#i didn't know exactly what but i knew he would find something

[cuubism]

I REALLLLLLLLLLLLLYYYY LOVE YOUR BELOVED PROFESSOR DREAM FIC!!!!!!!! PEOPLE TEND TO FORGET THAT!!! EVEN IN CANON!!!! HES FULL OF LOVE!!!! AND PASSION!!! AND HE CARES SO MUCH IT LITERALLY DOOMS HIM!!!!! AND IF ONLY HES BEING GIVEN A MUCH MORE KINDER CIRCUMSTANCES!! HE WOULD BEHAVES EXACTLY LIKE YOUR FIC!!! I FEEL SO CRAZT!!!! PLEASE NEVER DIE I LOVE YPUR WORKS SO MUCH!!!

I've grown quite fond of him myself 🥺 @five-and-dimes and I discussed him at length and created more lore for him. It was determined that Dream's earnest whimsy probably got him bullied a lot when he was younger. Not since he met Hob though.... it's probably a coincidence 🤷‍♀️ surely everyone just realized the error of their ways and decided to grow up and be kinder! Dream knew it would happen some day :)

-

Dream is still reeling as he reaches the cafe where he's meant to get afternoon coffee with Hob. He feels a bit shaky, but happy. Joyful. In disbelief.

When Cori had cornered him after class, Dream had been sure he was going to shove him up against a wall, or throw his books on the ground, or any of the other number of things he seemed to get satisfaction out of doing. He'd clutched his books tight, bracing himself.

Instead, Cori had, with halting, uncomfortable words, apologized to him. Actually apologized! Dream had been wary at first, sure it was just another way to hurt his feelings--he's been called gullible many times and he knows there's truth to it--but Cori hadn't taken it back, or suddenly turned on him again like he had every other time Dream had tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. He seemed genuine.

It was what Dream had always wanted, what he had always hoped for, so decided to take it and just pray that Cori wouldn't change his mind again in the future. Or trip him as he walked away.

He didn't, though. And as Dream left to walk to his next class, he couldn't help but feel victorious. He knew he would get through to him eventually! He'd always known that eventually people would grow out of their juvenile pranks and learn to treat others better. And finally it was starting to happen.

None of the other usual suspects bothered him that day, either. Nobody tried to trip him, or snickered when he said something overly sentimental in class. It was like overnight the world had woken up and decided to better itself. It was magical.

So he's still shaking a bit when he sits down across from Hob, who's already gotten him his mocha latte. When he doesn't say anything at first, just takes several long sips of his drink, Hob nudges his leg under the table.

"Everything alright?"

"Cori," Dream says, "apologized to me."

He must have milk foam on his lip, for Hob reaches across the table to wipe it away with his thumb, lingering on the corner of Dream's mouth. "Did he?"

Dream nods. "It- it did not seem to be a joke. Hob, I think he actually learned."

Hob smiles sweetly. "That's great, honey."

"Nobody tripped me today," Dream muses. "Or made fun of what I said in class. I cannot believe it. I knew that eventually people would grow up and learn how to treat others kindly, but it's startling to see it happen in real time."

"They must have learned from your example," Hob says. He takes Dream's hand on the table and starts playing idly with his fingers. Hob is very touchy-feely with him, always holding his hand, or playing with his fingers like they're a fidget toy, or petting his hair while they're lying in bed together. Dream found it strange at first. He was used to others he had attempted to date wanting to rough him up a little. When he questioned it, they would say, with a laugh, you're just too sheltered. Dream didn't think he was, particularly, he just didn't understand wanting to push someone around. At least not without finding out if they even liked it.

When Dream mentioned it, Hob had said, with a grimace, that Dream's kindness could be misinterpreted as innocence, and it made people want to 'corrupt him.' Dream didn't get it, but there were a lot of things he 'didn't get', at least according to other people. In any case, Hob didn't do that, because he knew Dream didn't like it, so Dream is content now. And he has Hob to at least attempt to interpret other people's odd behavior for him.

"I hope it sticks," he says, worriedly. "I would hate for Cori and the others to backslide now that they're finally making progress."

"Oh, don't worry," Hob says, bringing Dream's hand to his lips and kissing his knuckles. He looks at Dream over their joined hands, gaze absolutely sure, a look that never fails to make Dream shiver pleasantly when it's directed at him. "I think it'll stick."

[gold-onthe-inside]

frostbite

who? spencer reid (s3) x tough!reader summary: spending christmas on a case is hard enough without you tracking down the unsub on your own, and tough as you are, you're not invulnerable. word count: 1k content warnings: canon-typical violence, references to dismemberment, weapons (ax, knife, guns)

This was not how you thought your Christmas would go. Your hands felt cold and numb in the North Dakota winter, you just couldn't seem to warm yourself up, even in all your layers. Think. What happened? The team had been called away on the 23rd, and now for some reason you were lying in the snow, surrounded by trees. You must have hit your head on something, if you couldn't piece this together.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" sang a taunting voice and you groaned softly, getting up and spotting the low-hanging branch. Right. You had been running. You patted yourself down. No gun. Knife. You gripped the hilt, slowly getting up. The grip is second nature, you didn't top the Academy field training course for no reason. You slip into the trees and branches, keeping an eye out for the unsub, trying to remember how you got separated from the others. The cabin.

They'd found it empty, had started pulling up floorboards to look for their latest victim and in the hubbub of looking for Melissa Green, you had seen the axe missing from the chopping block outside, footprints leading out to the trees. "Come on, pretty girl, where'd you go?" his voice sang again. You know he's a big guy, the odds that you could take him weren't exactly slim, but you knew better than to bring a knife to an axe-fight. But if you could play Marco Polo long enough…

He's an expert at tracking, so you tear off a piece of wool that was already unspooling from your sweater, letting it fall and leaving deliberate foot prints to lead him right to you. And then you clamber up a tree, gripping your knife between your teeth. If it works, you get the drop on him… literally. If it doesn't… well, you can't outrun the bastard anyway. You can't even remember which way the cabin is, and it's starting to get dark. You swallowed, gripping your knife, comfortably perched on a thick branch, hidden among the trees, and radioing your location. Rossi's maybe the only one in the group who's any good at wilderness skills and hunting. If anyone can find you, he's your saving grace, no matter how much you detest hunting as a sport.

Sure enough, you spot the big guy lumbering towards your trap, too engrossed in the hunt to care about the potential of other FBI agents searching for him. You let out a breath and it fogs up in front of you, and you prepare yourself for the tussle, the grip on your knife tightening, and then you jump. It all happens so fast, you don't even really track what happens. Your legs tightened around his neck, attempting to choke him so you don't have to use the blade in your hand, but then he slammed you back against a tree and the pain and cold forces a grunt out of you. You're on the ground, the unsub in front of you and his axe is swinging. You have enough sense to dart out of the swing and it lodged in the tree, your knife slicing into his torso as you twisted out his way.

"Bitch," he spat, pulling his axe out of the trunk and you quelled the panic rising in your throat.

"I bet you got a lot of coal for Christmas, didn’t you?" you asked, taunting him as you circled around him, the adrenaline giving you more nerve than you had as you twirled your knife. Where was your team? "But seriously, were you like… never hugged as a child? Seriously? Who spends Christmas chopping people up?"

"You talk too much," he said, gritting his teeth as he loomed over you while you backtracked.

"Yeah, my supervisor said that too," she said. "But he stonewalls a lot, what else can you do?" you asked, shrugging, your mouth working before your brain could catch up. You needed backup, badly, before this guy backed you into a corner. It was getting colder and darker and God, you really didn't want to have to kill him. He cocked his head at you, probably wondering why you weren't running, like a sane person of your height and weight. "Any chance you'd just… surrender, so I can go home?" she asked and the unsub chuckled.

"You're not going home," he leered, backing you into a corner and raising the blade of his axe to your neck, watching you swallow. Never show fear. You closed your eyes, taking a breath to calm your nerves, and then you heard them. You can't fight your smirk as half a dozen footfalls end up surrounding the two of you and you twisted the axe away from your neck, slamming the big guy against a tree.

"Drop the axe!" Aaron yelled, flanked by the rest of your team. You stepped away, relatively unscathed, and Emily passed you your gun back.

They eventually drag him back up through the woods and into custody and Spencer approached you with a fretful look as you holster your gun back in place. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice soft and tender, his hand finding the bruise on your temple, the cut right by your hairline, and the care in his touch is so sincere, it hurts more than your actual injuries.

"I've recovered from worse," you assured him and his lips pursed.

"That doesn't make me feel better," he told you, hazel eyes turning darker as the light faded. "You could have a concussion--"

"I probably do," you said. "I can barely piece together what happened."

He huffed. "What happened is that you ran off without back up again and got injured again, you can't be this reckless, do you have any idea how terrified I was when we couldn’t find you? You were out here with an unsub on the loose and no weapon, you could have ended up like Melissa--" His voice was breaking as he spoke and you hugged him before he could tear up. There's a lot you can take, there's not much that breaks your spirit, but Spencer in tears? He found it unexpected, it had taken 2 years before you let Penelope hug you without complaint, but he was hugging you back, burying his head in your crook of your neck, exactly where the unsub's axe had been. "Never do that again," he whispered and you didn't answer, nor did he prompt you. You don't make promises you can't keep.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Not a Creature Was Stirring

Declan O’Hara x Reader

Words: 2677

Summary: Christmas at the Priory gets more complicated with Maud can’t make it back from London. As Declan’s girlfriend, you try to step in to still make it a perfect holiday for him and his kids. Needless to say, things don’t exactly go according to plan. 

Notes: With my love for Aidan Turner, you guys had to know Declan would be joining my list of stories eventually! I love him so much and I’m happy to have him as the subject of my Christmas imagine this year. I hope you all have a happy holidays, whatever you celebrate and a wonderful new year! (and if you recognized the Poldark quote I totally stole, no you didn't)

-

T’was two weeks before Christmas and all through the Priory, everyone buzzed with holiday spirit. Patrick and Caitlin were back from school, Taggie was busy making hors d’oeuvres for all of the holiday parties she’d been hired to cater and you were enjoying a book by the fireplace. The only one who seemed unable to enjoy the season was Declan. He stomped about, going through receipts and orders and cards. His brows furrowed and his mustache curved with the harshness of his frown. 

“I can’t make sense of any of this,” he huffed. “Everything from the last ridiculous party she planned and I still don’t know what to do.”

You set your book aside. Even though Declan and Maud were no longer together, you knew her approval still meant a lot to him. That, and now that he was the face of Corinium, he was expected to be a bit of a socialite as well. 

“Why doesn’t she plan it herself?” You asked. 

He hated getting into the details of these things. As long as there were good drinks and decent music, he seemed happy. 

He ran a hand through his dark curls and collapsed onto the sofa beside you. 

“Because she won’t get here until Christmas Eve.” Declan blew out a long, tired breath. “And the kids have been hounding me about having something here for weeks. I think they’re too cooped up. Tired of the house. Tired of me.”

Caitlin had complained more than once about her ongoing boredom. 

You brought your legs up, draping them over his lap as you turned to face him. His hand found your calf, rubbing circles to soothe both you and himself. 

“Why don’t you let me do it?”

“Do what?”

You flicked his arm. “The planning, silly.” 

“You want to plan Maud’s party?” He scoffed. 

“Sure,” you shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

Declan grinned, snickering.

“What?” You asked. 

He just shook his head and kissed your cheek, pulling you closer as he stared into the fire. 

-

He’d tried to warn you. From the moment you volunteered to take over, Declan had told you it was not a task for the faint of heart. Especially since you were convinced the party had to be as extravagant and special as Maud’s would be. He wanted to tell you there was nothing to prove. That you didn’t need to dazzle everybody and put on some grand show. But you seemed excited to help, so he didn’t say anything. Besides, it was nice to focus on his work rather than invitations to people he’d rather not have to see more than he already did. 

Taggie knocked on the door of his office, apron covered with flour. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Declan glanced up from his papers. Bills he couldn’t pay and assignments he didn’t want. 

“She isn’t here?”

Taggie shook her head. “I was going to ask what she wanted me to make for the party.”

They looked at each other for a while until Declan shrugged.

“I have no idea,” he said. “She hasn’t told me anything.” 

“You mean you aren’t helping?” 

Declan scoffed. “I haven’t exactly had time, Taggie.” He put the papers aside. “And she won’t let me.”

“She won’t let you?”

“No. She won’t let me.”

She sighed. “Reminds me of me.” 

Taggie muttered, while it was nice not to be in charge for one, she felt a twinge of guilt thinking of you trying to throw everything together on your own. 

“If you find her, tell her I want to talk to her,” Declan said. 

Taggie snorted. “Right. Talk.”

“Your sister is rubbing off on you,” Declan groaned. "Run off."

Taggie left snickering. 

Declan tried to focus back on his work, but couldn’t. Maybe Taggie was right. Was he expecting too much of you? He wasn’t exactly known for his observation skills when the subject wasn’t an official or celebrity he wanted to tear apart. He didn’t want a whole fuss of a party anyway and now he was letting you bend over backwards to make it happen. He sighed, running a hand down his face. It was too late, of course. Declan knew if he said anything, you would assume you’d done something wrong. 

Your current situation did little to help. Having spent the last two hours haggling over second-hand decorations, you still didn’t have enough for both the entry hall and the dining room, not to mention other areas of the house. Plus, you’d need to repaint most of the wooden tree decorations, patch up the banners, and glue the ceramic snowman back together. The rest was a haphazard collection of string lights, ornaments, and brass angels you bartered for a steal. For you, it was enough. But for the O’Hara’s? For Declan? 

It was hard not to feel cast into a shadow when his ex was who she was. 

“Why couldn’t Maud be a minimalist?” You groaned. Maybe the girls could help you dig up some more decor from storage. Surely they had a snow or two tucked away somewhere. 

Stars… 

Now that gave you an idea. 

-

12 hours. That’s all the time you had left to prep the best Christmas party Declan’s family could have.

No pressure, right?

With the decorations set- you nearly broke your neck putting them up- now all you needed to do was make enough food for all the people you invited. Taggie had offered to help, but you insisted she spend Christmas Eve about town with her siblings. Of course, this left you standing in front of a dozen empty pans and no idea how to fill them. 

“How does she do this?” You muttered to yourself, looking over the recipe for the thousandth time. Mince pies, cranberry tarts, figgy pudding… it all could have been delivered, but making it yourself was cheaper. You knew money was tight, not that Declan would ever admit it. So it would be the best- and most affordable- Christmas party. 

Declan walked into the kitchen just as you were putting the first round of mini pies in the oven. 

“Maud called,” he sighed. He smoothed his wild curls only for them to pop out again. “She can’t make it.”

You almost dropped the pudding. “What?” 

“She can’t come home for Christmas.” He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice, but you heard it all the same. “Apparently there’s a big party with lots of directors who might cast her, so she’s staying in London.”

“Oh.” You turned away so he wouldn’t see your face fall. It was silly, really, to be upset. But you hadn’t realized how much you wanted to impress her until now. 

“I’m sorry, love.” Declan came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I know how much work you’ve put into all this.”

Secretly, a small part of him was relieved, though it was a shame the kids wouldn’t see their mother on Christmas. 

Your back stiffened against his chest. 

“This is all the more reason to have this magnificent party,” you said, shrugging him away so you could get back to work. “It’ll be good for Patrick and the girls.”

Declan stood to the side, watching fierce determination overtake your features. 

He exhaled, surrendering. “Alright, love.”

-

The kitchen smelled like smoke and blackened fruit. Coughing, you pulled the tray of unsalvageable tarts from the oven and set them aside. You’d been so busy finishing up the decorations that you’d forgotten about them entirely. You opened the window despite the chill to let out some of the black clouds and godawful odor. 

Just half an hour before guests would start arriving and you’d just ruined half of the desserts. Pouring yourself a glass of whatever was closest, you just hoped they’d be content with free liquor after dinner. Maybe they’d get too drunk to care. 

“Are you setting fire to the entire neighborhood, because if so, at least spare my dogs.” A familiar snark sounded from behind you.

“Rupert? What are you doing here this early?” You gasped, wiping your hands on your apron. “Declan hasn’t had enough whiskey to tolerate you yet.”

“Then you should have invited more people,” he teased. Rupert entered the kitchen, leaning on the counter. “Why don’t you have Taggie help you? She’s perfect at this.” The admiration in his voice was hard to miss, but you ignored it.

“Because she deserves to spend Christmas with her family, not stuck in here with me.”

He raised a finger to point out you counted as family, but you interrupted. 

“And what do you mean, invite more people?” You put your hands on your hips. “I invited half of the Cotswolds.” 

Rupert winced. “Yes, well, that explains this then.” He pulled something from his jacket pocket. A stack of filthy, water-stained envelopes. “I didn’t find them til this morning. Postman must have dropped them in the garden when he got chased off by the dogs.” He handed the ruined invitations over. 

You stared at them, a lump forming in your throat.

“You mean… no one is coming?”

“I’m afraid not, darling.” He plucked a not-charred tart from the tray and popped it in his mouth. “But isn’t this better. A more intimate gathering with your mustachioed man?”

You shook your head, running your hand through your hair, breathing starting to pick up.

“Maud is staying in London,” you blurted. “So the family is without their mother for Christmas and I thought I could-”

“Replace her by throwing some ridiculous party?” He chuckled. His face fell, however, when he saw your lip quiver. “Darling, you know no one expects you to be Maud, don’t you?”

You looked away. 

“Nobody wants that.” He stepped forward. “Y/N, I’m sure they don’t. I’m a little relieved she’s not here, to be honest. She was always a bit much.” 

Shaking fingers struggled to untie your apron. You tossed it aside. 

“I have to go.” You hurried for the door, grabbing a bottle of wine from the counter. 

“Y/N-” He started. 

The door slammed shut behind you. 

Rupert watched you go, sighed, and stole another tart. 

-

As the O’Haras piled into the main hall, Caitlin pinched Taggie’s arm, spotting the Minister of Sport coming out of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know he was coming,” she whispered excitedly, earning a stern glance from their father. 

Taggie gulped. “Neither did I.”

Both watched their father put on a tight smile and approach the other man. 

“Rupert.”

“Declan.” Rupert’s smile was genuine, if not a bit arrogant. “I’m afraid I’ve been the bearer of bad news to your lovely Y/N,” he said. “All her invitations were lost to my flower bushes, left undelivered.”

“So there’s no one coming?” Patrick frowned. He’d hoped to meet some of his father’s good-looking TV hostess coworkers. 

“First mummy, now the whole town. Whatever will we do?” Caitlin said, eying Taggie and scooching her forward. When that didn’t work, she poked her brother. “Patrick scared them off with his terrible poetry.”

Patrick rustled her hair, making her squeak in protest. 

Declan ignored them. He ran a hand down his face and looked around at all you’d set up. You hadn’t even gotten to turn the lights on. 

“She seemed rather upset,” Rupert said, noticing Declan’s concern. “Ran off into the night. Very dramatic.” He leaned forward. “Perhaps you should go find her, hm?” He gave him a knowing look. 

Declan’s heart sank. He knew this wasn’t about the party. Not really. He just wished he’d realized it sooner. And before Rupert Campell-Black.

Starting for the door, he stopped, grabbing Rupert’s arm. 

“Don’t-” He narrowed his eyes, “-touch anything.”

He hurried off.

Rupert turned to the remaining O’Haras. 

“So,” he clapped his hands together. “Who knows where Declan keeps his best scotch?” 

-

He found you sitting on a snowy stump at the edge of the property. Declan watched the deep, shimmering green fabric of your dress sparkle in the moonlight, shifting as you lifted the bottle to your lips. You didn’t seem to see him approaching, eyes trained at the stars. 

“You look-” He sat beside you and kissed your cheek, “beautiful.”

“I don’t feel beautiful,” you muttered, taking another swig. The wine stained your lips a reddish purple but you didn’t care. Nobody would see it anyway. “I failed, Declan.”

“You didn’t fail.”

You scoffed. “The dessert is burnt, the decorations are literally hanging by a thread, and- oh yeah- none of it matters because no one is coming.” You raised your arm for another drink, but Declan grabbed the bottle, bringing it to his lips instead. 

Despite your efforts, your lip trembled. 

“I just wanted your family to have the perfect Christmas,” you said. 

“Is that what you think I care about?” He asked. “The extravagant party? The guests lined up down the pather?” Declan took your hands in his, trying to warm them from the chill. “Y/N, you’ve gotten me to look forward to a holiday for the first time in ages.” He brought your hands up for a lingering kiss. “Just by being you.” 

Your shaking stopped, tears chased away by his soft smile. You snatched the bottle back.

“Flattering will hardly make me feel better, Mr. O’Hara,” you teased. 

He raised a brown and leaned forward. 

“Does this?” He kissed your lips. “Or this?” Your jaw. “Or maybe…” The spot behind your ear. 

“Declan,” you breathed. 

He kept his lips by your ear, whispering. “You don’t have to be any more than you are, to be enough for me.”

Now, your tears returned for a different reason. Throwing your arms around him, you crashed your lips into his, forgetting what you’d been so upset about. Your hands found his hair, tangling those perfect black curls around your fingers. He reached one hand around you to hold you closer while the other rested on your thigh, creeping ever upwards. 

“If nobody is coming, can we start to eat?” Patrick called out over the lawn, making you jolt apart. 

You bit back a laugh, Declan’s face turning pink. “Go ahead!”

“Little bastard couldn’t wait ten more minutes?” Your frustrated boyfriend whined. 

“Ten minutes?” You stood, holding out your hand to help him. 

Declan pinched your upper thigh and scooped you up, both actions eliciting a squeal from your lips as he carried you back. 

-

“Ready?”

“Yes!” They all cheered, impatient.

You giggled, holding the switch captive in your hand. “You don’t look ready.”

“Get on with it, Y/N,” Caitlin whined, “turn them on!”

A chorus of pleas joined her. Declan just laughed, giving you a wide grin.

“You heard them,” he said.

“Alright, alright.”

You flipped the switch. All at once, the main hall lit up, and not just around the tree. Lights strung up above their heads created a canopy of color. Rupert turned on the speakers, filling the space with music. Exclamations of awe and excitement sounded all around you.

“Come on,” Caitlin said, dragging her siblings out to dance with her. Taggie glanced at Rupert, blush flooding her cheeks. He simply motioned for her to go on and dance.

Declan grabbed your hand.

“It’s perfect.” He kissed you deeply, making your knees weak as though he held you up in his embrace.

Caitlin made a teasing sound of disgust, but Taggie couldn’t help but smile. She didn’t think she’d ever seen her father so happy.

Rupert leaned over to you as he strutted to join the others. 

“Told you so,” he whispered. You reached to smack him, but he shimmied out of the way.

“Told you what?” Declan asked. 

You curled a black strand around your finger. 

“That I didn’t have to prove something to be loved by you.”

He pressed a kiss to your palm.

“For once, Rupert and I agree.” He lead you out to dance, swaying slowly despite the cheesy song. 

“Merry Christmas, Declan.” You kissed him again, nuzzling closer. 

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

And so you all spent Christmas dancing to overplayed tunes under flashy, colorful lights. 

And it was perfect.

[xoxoavenger]

What Is This Feeling?

pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

summary: Y/N and Dean are certainly feeling something for each other, they just can't exactly put their finger on it. In the meantime, they'll rip each others throats out and annoy Castiel and Sam.

word count: 3003

warnings: a small mention of alcoholism, intense enemies to lovers, based on 'What Is This Feeling' from Wicked, you may think this is isn't Christmas themed but there is a grinch reference thrown around a couple times (I couldn't help myself)

12 Days of Christmas masterlist main masterlist

Dean had never felt this way about anyone before.

It was surprising, because he had been in a lot of relationships with a lot of women. But something about this woman made his head reel in a dangerous way. He wasn't quite sure what it meant, at least not until he talked to Sam.

"I swear, ever since the moment I saw her I've felt this way." He tells Sam as they drink beer in the library.

"Hm," Sam says, still looking at his book. He clearly is not too interested in what Dean has to say, which causes him to be a little upset.

"I'm being serious! I don't understand it." He knows he's whining, but he wishes there was a way for him to know what this feeling was. It's been driving him crazy for months on end. 

"Are you sure it's not love?" Sam asks as he looks over, and Dean makes a face.

"Definitely not love. More like," It's on the tip of his tongue, and his mouth turns down as he figures out what makes him dizzy about her.

Y/N and Castiel are having the same conversation in her room, just down the hall, at the same time.

"He makes my heart race. I've never felt anything like it. I can literally feel the blood leaving my face just talking about this." She tells him, swirling her wine in her glass. Cas frowns.

"It sounds like you're in love." He says in that stupid low voice, and she wants to hit him at just the word.

"Absolutely not. It feels more intense. Like," She narrows her eyes, because she knows exactly what the feeling is.

"Loathing."

~

After the two of them figure it out, their relationship somehow gets worse. Sam and Castiel can only sit on the couch of the hotel room, each holding a beer. The only thing that would make it picture perfect is if they were eating popcorn. Sam would get up and pop it if he didn't know that Dean would deck him for even thinking about standing and interrupting their argument.

"How could you let it go?" Y/N yells from her side of the room. Sam and Cas swing their eyes over to Dean as if this were a baseball game.

"Let it go?" Dean repeats, barely able to stop himself from sputtering. "What, did you want it to kill you? Or maybe I should have shot you and hoped the bullet went all the way through?" He yells, because the stupid werewolf had been able to run after they'd been track it the past couple days. Everyone knew the likelihood of them being able to find and track it again, especially so soon.

"I'm sorry, is your aim that bad that you couldn't shot it without shooting me?" She knows, deep down, that the werewolf was wrapped around her, that it would have been hard to get a clean shot with then way he was holding her like a shield. Cas had been able to swing and slice a chunk of the werewolf's arm with his angel blade, and the werewolf had made it's escape while Y/N fell to the ground and Dean had gone to her side instead of shooting at it, like Sam had been.

"Seriously? You know that thing was wrapped around you like a freaking slinky. Do you have a death wish?" He shoots, and she turns, putting her fingers to her forehead in annoyance. "Why are you turned around now?" He asks, and she explodes.

"Your face is annoying me!" She says it far too loud, and Sam and Cas exchange a look of surprise before looking to Dean. This has officially gone from arguing about the hunt to personal attacks.

"Ugh!" Dean groans, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer. "I need alcohol just to deal with your voice." He says, and she turns back around, steam practically coming out of her ears.

"Are you angry because they didn't have a new jacket at army surplus? Too bad the old one has a knife shaped whole in it. Although, that probably made it look better." She's going after whatever she can think of, and she knows this isn't going to stop any time soon.

"Alright," Sam stand, putting his hands up. It's gone on a little too long, and he's sure any minute now they're going to get a call from the front desk because neighbors started complaining about the noise. "Let's just say you two hate each other and call it a day, yeah?" He suggests, and Y/N shakes her head.

"It's so much more than hate." She's staring daggers at Dean, who is chugging his beer.

"Finally something we can agree upon." He says as he pulls the bottle away and wipes his mouth, and she just rolls her eyes.

"He makes my skin fucking crawl, Sam. I can't stand him." She says, as if Dean isn't in the room at all.

"What about him makes you so angry?" Sam asks, and she doesn't even need to look at him to answer.

"Everything. All of it." She says, and Sam takes a deep breath.

"Okay," Sam is trying to keep his cool, but he kind of wants to laugh. This entire situation is childish, and he can't believe the two haven't figured their shit out yet. "Y/N and Cas, you share a room tonight."

"I couldn't handle her being in here anyway." Dean says, finishing the beer and throwing it in the trash before immediately grabbing a new one.

"Is it wrong to call him an alcoholic?" Y/N asks as Cas grabs her arm and starts to walk her to the door. "Because personally, I think it's just saying the truth, but I know some people,"

"Please stop," Cas begs quietly, opening the door. Dean has fire in his eyes, and she's lucky her back is turned when Dean starts to stalk toward her. Sam has to grab him and pull him back as Cas pulls her out the door.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Dean?" Sam asks finally as the door shuts and he lets go of his brother.

"Me?" Dean asks incredulously. "She's the one who started it!" He argues, and Sam just shakes his head.

"Y/N is a nice person. She gets along great with everyone else, and she always makes friends with people on cases. She even somehow has demons that like her more than you do. So yes, I think you're the problem." Sam tells his brother, and Dean just gets even angrier.

"She hates me too! There's not much I can do here, anyway." He argues, grabbing his stuff and walking to the bathroom.

"Maybe she wouldn't hate you if you weren't such a dick to her." Sam says, because he knows his brother can be a little rough around the edges, but Dean usually isn't this rude or upset with someone. There has to be a reason why they loathe each other, and Sam doesn't think it has anything to do with loathing.

~

"So, why do you hate him?" Cas asks Y/N as they pack up the next morning. The angel had let her off the hook the night before, but he needed answers now.

"Well, ever since the beginning, there's just been something about him. And I usually get along with everyone. But he doesn't make it easy, exactly." She says. She doesn't like talking about it, because she doesn't have a good reason for the feelings that bubble up every time she sees Dean.

"It sounds like you don't hate him." Cas tells her simply, and she just blinks.

"You're right, Cas. I loathe him. Entirely." She frowns, zipping up her bag. Cas doesn't know what to do about this. He just wants Y/N and Dean to get along, because he's getting so tired of them fighting so much. It's every time they see each other, every time they're together. It doesn't even matter if they're on a case, or who's watching.

A point proven when a couple hours later, on the way back to the bunker, they stop at a diner and a fight ensues.

"Just because you're the one who lost the werewolf doesn't mean you have to take it out on us by making us stop at the shitiest place." She tells him after they'd ordered. True, this diner didn't exactly live up to any standards, but she was overreacting slightly because of her feelings.

"I'm sorry you're just so entitled that you have to have a five star meal, but we don't exactly have the funds for that. Maybe, if you put in a bit more of your own work, rather than just joining all of our hunts, we'd have more money for better food." Dean goes off, voice raising. Instead of sending him a glare to quiet the argument like she normally does in public spaces, she doubles down.

"We have plenty of money, you asshat! You just need the greasiest burger you can get your hands on, because it reminds you of life on the road with your dad." She shoots back, and some people near them have started to stare. She doesn't have it in her to care anymore, and can only barely stop herself from telling Dean that their cards are fake and so is their money.

"Seriously? You think you can read me? Well, you're not a closed book!" Dean yells, far too loud for the small diner. "You're only with us because you're lonely and terrifies you. You've lost everyone you've ever cared about, which keeps you from caring too much now even when you're nice to everyone. And if it were up to me, you wouldn't even be here." The words are barely out of his mouth before Y/N launches across the table, legs underneath her on the chair and arms out to choke him. One hand grabs his head and she's able to push it to the table once, hard, before Dean gets his bearings and puts his hands on her wrists.

"You think you're so smart, Winchester? You're a boy who grew up too fast and never had a childhood. Your whole adulthood has been you acting childish, because around your dad you were never allowed to. I get you had a bad life, but you think you're the only fucking one?" She grumbles into his face, fingers still twisted in his hair. He scowls, because she hit the nail on the head.

"I don't give a shit about what you think happened. I know a lot of people who were dealt a shittier hand than me. But at least I'm trying to make the world a better place. You act like you owe everyone you meet something, as if you're the reason their life ended up the way it did. News flash, the world doesn't revolve around you!" He yells in her face. She moves to get up onto the table to get better grip and maybe even choke him with her thighs.

"Okay!" Castiel grabs her leg as she tries to move, pulling her back. She's still got a grip on Dean's hair, so she pulls him too.

"Ow!" He yells as she grabs her fingers and unwinds them from his head. Y/N ends up on her back in the booth, Castiel holding her legs.

"It's time." Cas says as he looks at Sam.

"Time for what?" Y/N asks, getting up on her elbows and trying to kick her legs out of Cas' grip. He just holds on tighter, then nods at Sam before sliding out of the booth, his hands still gripping her ankles.

"Let go of me!" Dean yells, definitely causing a scene. And then, Cas gets up and pulls Y/N's legs with him, holding them over his head so she doesn't hit anything. Curse his stupid fucking angel strength.

"Cas!" She shrieks, grabbing her shirt to keep it from falling and revealing her stomach and bra to the entire diner, all of which were watching now.

"Which way to your bathrooms?" Cas asks calmly, as if he's not carrying a full grown woman upside down. The server points to the side, and Cas and Sam drag Y/N and Dean into the bathroom. Y/N's laid down on her back, confused out of her mind, and Dean is yelling at Sam as the younger Winchester pushes him into the small one-hole bathroom.

"What the hell?" Dean yells. Y/N turns on her stomach, and Dean turns toward the door just in time to see it slam closed.

"Fuck," She mutters, getting up and moving to the door. She tries to open it, but the handle won't even budge. "They're holding the door closed." She tells Dean, who instantly moves to where she had been to try and open it.

"Let us out!" Dean screams when it becomes clear that he won't be able to open it either.

"Nope!" Sam yells out, sounding far too excited. It makes Y/N even more mad than she is right now.

"You two need to work it out. And until you do, you aren't leaving that bathroom." Cas says through the door. Y/N wants to pull her hair out.

"Ugh!" Y/N screams, taking in the bathroom. It's old and a little dirty, and she hates the smell.

"You have no room to complain. If it weren't for you, we wouldn't be here." He tells her, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms.

"Me?" She asks incredulously. She cannot believe the gall of this man. "You've got to be kidding."

"You started the whole fight!" He throws his arms out, and she thinks her eyes may pop out of her head. She takes a deep breath, because she wants to get out of this bathroom before she's forced to pee in front of Dean.

"Why did you let the werewolf get away?" She asks quietly. It's the softest tone she's ever used with him. He sighs, unable to look at her.

"How many times do we have to go over this? I didn't let it get away. Sorry your hunting standards are so high, but it's not like you were helping either." The way he says it, the tone so crisp and the words practiced, she knows he's lying.

"I'm not trying to make fun of you." She tells him, grabbing some paper towels and wiping off the water on the counter. "I just know you're lying, and I want to know why." She tells him, throwing the towels away before sitting on the counter.

"How would you know if I'm lying?" He asks defensively, and she rolls her eyes as she tries to tamp down her own snarky response.

"Dean," She groans, taking a deep breath. "I know that we aren't exactly close. But we aren't going to get out of this bathroom until we tell the truth, and I'm actually kinda hungry." She says, and she sees his exterior crack a little bit. He breathes out a long sigh, then looks from the ground to the wall.

"I did let the werewolf get away. You were right. I could have helped Sam go after it. I probably would have been able to shoot it." He admits, and it honestly surprises her. She didn't think he would tell her, at least not until they had been in there for an hour. She was about to push when he starts talking again. "I just saw you fall to the ground, and your eyes rolled back into your head, and I thought that you were more hurt somehow. I just needed to make sure that you were alright, and finding the werewolf was the furthest thing from my mind." It's silent in the bathroom, and Y/N is sure that Cas and Sam are listening. Dean looks at her, and they lock eyes for a few long moments.

"Why would you care?" She asks quietly, but it still echoes in the tiled room. Dean clenches his fists, rolling his eyes and walking towards her.

"I don't actually hate you." He says, standing far too close to her.

"Loathe entirely?" She asks with a small smile, heart racing. She's not sure why, exactly, but she can feel her face heating as well.

"No," He chuckles, shaking his head. "But I think it may start with an L." He walks even closer, his hands going to each side of her hips. She can smell his body spray, the smell of him that hangs around the bunker and usually infuriates her.

She realizes that maybe now she isn't infuriated with him. She's infatuated.

"I think I feel it too." She tells him, voice low as her gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.

"I'm sure you do." He says with a smirk.

"Alright." She chuckles, throwing her head back in fake annoyance. He grabs the back of her head however, and pulls her into a searing kiss. All their emotions, all the heart racing and dizziness and blushing has all lead up to this kiss, where their lips move in tandem and their teeth clack as they both open their mouths. Y/N's pushed against the mirror by Dean, one of his hands slamming against it. She moans as her body arches into his, and her groans into her mouth as he puts one hand behind her back, pushing her impossibly closer.

"Do you think they're physically fighting?" Cas asks from outside the door. Both him and Sam have their ears pressed the door, however Sam is slowly starting to lean back.

"They're physically doing something." He replies, frowning. Cas jerks back, letting go of the door handle as he realizes what Sam is insinuating. 

"I'm not sure if this is going to be better than them fighting." The angel says, and the two go back to their table, where food is waiting for them.

"Worse." Sam says, trying not to imagine all of the shit that's about to go down in the bunker. "Definitely worse." 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @theoraekenslover @king-of-milf-lovers @lyarr24

[matrixbearer2024]

I had an ask about this regarding my AU but I don't know what happened to it after I saw it in my inbox cuz it might be tumblr being funny but essentially it was just:

"Does West Coast Tech still exist? Why didn't Ford go to West Coast Tech?"

Short answer is, he simply didn't want to in this AU. West Coast Tech is among the Ivy Leagues in my AU and BMU still exists too, it still has the prominent reputation of being a back-up university.

In this AU ultimately Ford never really developed the mindset that he was "special" and had to make a point of it or prove that he was somebody. Because of their upbringing, there wasn't a "preference" others had towards either twin because Filbrick disliked them equally and their academic and extracurricular skills basically made them break even. There wasn't a stupid twin/smart twin between them and Caryn made damn sure about it.

Possibly the only thing that most people say about the two is that they're "smart but stupid" because of all the trouble they get wrapped up in doing whatever or being too curious for their own good.

The teachers or coaches didn't favor one twin over the other either and they were generally liked by their peers. Ford didn't end up with that sense of arrogance that you can typically see in canon where he believes he is above the rest and he has to be and Stan didn't develop that inferiority complex compared to his sibling.

In this AU, Ford had the option to go to West Coast Tech but even throughout senior high he already knew that a good university could really only get you so far. He was a sharp tool yes, but... he didn't think that edge would really push him far. He had an edge, but it wasn't much.

There's a lot of gifted people nowadays and even good credentials aren't going to guarantee a decent job or a stable career, that's if you can even get a job right away.

The science project and everything was still what gave him the opportunity and Stan even congratulated him for scoring that high but Ford wasn't really pleased? I'm not sure with the word but he wasn't exactly happy with the circumstance. They didn't fight over it considering all throughout highschool they kept talking about potential careers and whatnot.

It didn't help that Filbrick encouraged the idea of West Coast Tech because of how much money Ford could potentially make. Even so, Ford was stupidly skeptical after seeing the pamphlet and researching online. Realistically it seemed too good to be true, and he couldn't even sleep on it from how much he kept thinking.

Stan knew he would likely take longer to figure things out but he'd get there, and he was willing to let Ford just reach for the stars as he always did. They still have that dream of sailing around the world as adults but it's a lot more defined and realistic compared to how they planned it in canon. They're thinking, work hard, get rich, then retire early to sail and travel around the world. If their paths split early, they'll find a way back when they grow up. They always do.

It's something they constantly talk about because they both desperately want to move out after graduation just to get the hell away from Filbrick. It doesn't matter where they end up they just need to get away.

Even so, Ford mulled over the offer and decided to visit the university before making his decision. His gut feeling was both parts right and wrong, sure— what he thought was too good to be true was the actual reality of the school and it's pursuit of academic excellence, but he was right to be skeptical after he noticed the snobbish and arrogant nature most of the students have. It's a common thing for ivy leagues to have that mentality that they're the cream of the crop. The best there is. Not everybody is like this of course, but sometimes the loudest crowd doesn't always have to be the majority.

It does take a lot of work to get to their level and to stay at that level but Ford couldn't see himself in that school. He didn't want to allow himself into that crowd where he knew it would potentially make him worse off as a person. Also, he had the entirety of undergrad to get through, if he so much as wanted to transfer to an Ivy League to get his masters or doctorate he knew he could! So what was the rush?

University was a stepping stone and he had time, he knew he could do a lot but he didn't need to rush. So... Ford turned down the offer.

Sadly, it was pretty much as chaotic(bad) as you'd think.

Of course, that meant looking for another university instead and it was mostly Stan who did the research this time because Ford was too burnt out and sulky after everything. He knew he made the choice that would inherently grant him more happiness, but it doesn't always feel like that right away and it didn't help that the walls were paper thin. It's hard to fall asleep to your parents yelling and throwing things around in a fight because of a decision you made.

Both of them had generally pretty good track records academically and a long list of achievements to follow it so it wasn't hard for them to find universities either. That's how they ended up with Graviton University in Oregon, it's not an Ivy-league but it's not as bad as BMU either. It really is just a stepping stone in the middle, your performance practically shapes the path you walk on.

The Stan twins have a choice in this AU mostly because they could also afford it, take note- the family is financially comfortable in this AU because Filbrick is one hell of an unscrupulous businessman but very successful. They're not rich but they're comfortable, and that's a lot in the state of the economy nowadays.

Ford has choices in this AU and it's also a very big part to play in why he could turn down the offer at the time and not look back at it with regret. Stan also being on even ground beside his brother is why they don't ever fight about such topics either, he's not ever chasing after Ford— he's standing right next to him.

The subtle differences from canon can genuinely just make a world of difference in the bigger picture. But yeah, it's why I had them go to Graviton University instead. It's a middle-ground and it's also how I can essentially get them to stay in gravity falls instead of ending up elsewhere when I cranked the "weirdness" level pretty low. There's still bits and bobs of it around, but not to the degree of the canon show I would think.

I hope this generally clears up how I wrote or my thought process as to why I didn't have Ford reach for the stars despite having that option and why the Stan Twins are generally this tight knit in my AU.

[drcomttheo]

Slytherin Boy oneshots—ML

Slytherin Boy oneshots—AO3

𝘌𝘕𝘡𝘖- 𝘗𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 (Slow burn fluff)

"Today, we will be brewing Amortentia." Slughorn stated.

Amortentia is the most powerful love potion in the world.

You immediately put your head on your desk.

Potions was your least favorite class; you liked hands-on magic, and you were already well advanced in most of the potions you were learning.

"Can anyone tell me what this potion is? Come on! Why don't you give it a try, Ms/Mr..."

Please don't say it.

"Y/L/N," you sighed inwardly, knowing that was coming considering you were the only one that paid attention.

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world." you said. "It's rumored to smell different to each person, according to what attracts them." Slughorn nodded appreciatively.

"Correct, Ms/Mr. Y/L/N, well done." Slughorn said, lifting up a vial as to cheers. "Now, everyone find a partner and turn to page seven."

You turned to Hermione, but Ron had already grabbed her arm and was pulling her towards the supply cabinet.

Sighing, you glanced around the room, which was pure chaos; everyone was rushing around to grab their friends and soon, everyone had a partner.

Everyone except...

"Mr. Berkshire, why don't you work with Ms/Mr. Y/L/N?" Slughorn put a hand on the boy's shoulder, pushing him towards you.

You raised an eyebrow. "I assume you expect me to do all the work?"

He laughed. Leaning back, he put his feet on the desk. "Absolutely not, Berkshire," you said as you shoved his feet off of the desk.

Skimming through the instructions on the page, you started gathering everything you needed to execute the position correctly.

"Two Lionfish spines, please..." You turned to him and thought for a few moments, "And a rose petal." Enzo smirked while getting up "Coming right up, your majesty," you glared at him and continued to read.

The process wasn't too bad since Enzo was a smart guy and actually put in a decent amount of effort. You figured you would be finished rather quickly.

As you continued to mix all the ingredients as stated in the pages, you finally had a bubbling potion.

You tried not to get too close, since you were scared of what you were going to smell.

"Time's up!" Slughorn said, "Books down everyone. Now, I'm going to call your names, and when I do, I want you and your partner to take a whiff and tell us what your amortentia smells like. That way we'll know if you've done it correctly."

Your heart skipped a beat.

Oh no.

You knew exactly what you were going to smell.

Enzo elbowed me, "Do you want to go first or shall I?" He asked.

"You go," you said, shaking your head, turning it away from him and scooting the potion closer to his side.

Enzo paused for a moment. "I smell... (Y/N scent), (Y/N scent),

(Y/N scent) and (Y/N scent)? You don't think Parkinson smells like (Y/N scent)...

and..." he hesitated, "peacocks." You looked over at him and scoffed.

"Peacocks?"

He had to be lying. You didn't smell remotely close to peacocks—(Y/N scent) was obviously you.

"Yes. White ones, to be exact. Is something wrong with them, Y/L/N?"

Yes.

"No." you said shortly. "Shall we continue?" Enzo asked with a smirk. It was your turn.

Should you try to lie?

"I smell..." you breathed in, trying to come up with the easiest lie, but you couldn't.

"...peppermint, hot tea, and citrus." You quickly pushed the cauldron away and sat down quickly.

Slughorn then cleared his throat to push the awkwardness out of the air. "Well, uh, done, class. Tomorrow we will be learning about the principles of potions; please read chapters four through six. You may be dismissed."

You quickly gathered your things and rushed out of class. When suddenly, you heard the sound of footsteps following close behind me:

"Peppermint and tea? Really, Y/L/N, that's obviously me."

"No, it is not Berkshire." You scowled, "Why on Earth would you smell someone as vial as you?" You retorted and Enzo laughed.

"Sure, it's not?" He said, running his hand through his hair and walking backwards for a few steps until turning and heading back down the corridor.

[pantheraviva]

merry christmas/happy holidays! to celebrate, i drew brite again + attempted to write a little reader x bright drabble. enjoy!

Anyone who works at Site-19 knows Dr. Jack Bright has a certain... reputation, for being a playboy. Well, playboy isn't exactly the right word. But he certainly isn't the type to just pick one person, or hell, pick several people to settle down with. You were sure he'd made out with at least one person from every department you knew existed, the ones you didn't know existed, and the ones that would make your head implode if you even thought of them existing.

There was one small problem.

You desperately, desperately want to be one of those people.

You aren't quite sure when it started. Maybe it was back when you were an intern, hearing stories of his crazy antics throughout the decades for the first time. Maybe it was when you caught his eye in the hallway, realizing his eyes were a deep, deep red, red as the ruby of SCP-963. Maybe it was when you had an unexpected conversation with him in the break room and realized he actually was capable of acting like a reasonable person and not a chainsaw cannon-wielding, Pokemon spawning, pandemonium causing, anomaly of a person. Maybe it was after several of those conversations after you kept running into him around the site. Maybe it was when he called you his friend like it didn't feel like a nuclear bomb settling in your chest.

When it started didn't matter. What mattered was that it is the Foundation's Christmas party, and you are going to get that kiss.

Your eyes dart around the room, trying to find him. It doesn't take too long to spot the bright (ha!) ginger hair of his current body, chatting with Director Kondraki and some other personnel near the soda dispenser. You zigzag your way through the crowd, your eyes locked in on your target. As you draw closer, you see him, holding a red cup filled with... something, wearing a blue sweater that read "[ ] Nice / [ ] Naughty / ✅ Keter" and you fondly scoff. He must've gotten it made just for Christmas. "Hey, Dr. Bright? Can I borrow you for a second?" you ask. He turns from Kondraki to you, those deep red eyes meeting yours once more, and you steel yourself to not tear away from his knowing gaze.

"Yeah, what's up?" he replies conversationally.

You turn over your plan in your head. "I need to talk to you about SCP-3671," you say, cursing yourself for not thinking out your excuse more. You weren't even assigned to that SCP, you just heard about its vendetta against Dr. Wright from your co-worker. "The vengeful cereal box!" Bright says with a laugh, and you want to capture that chuckle in a little bottle in your heart forever. "Alright, alright, lead the way. Kondraki, you still owe me." He pointed at the Site Director before looking at you expectantly.

You lead him to the other room, the one where you spotted a mistletoe hanging in the door frame. It's a stupid, stupid plan, but you were getting desperate, and no self-respecting SCP researcher was going to get caught just asking Bright for a smooch--or maybe that was just a you problem--you did have the tendency to overthink matters of the heart. He leans on the door frame. "So, what's the matter with 3671? Did it brutally tear apart Frank yet?"

"Uhm, actually," you say, then you point above the both of you to the mistletoe, hanging innocently.

Bright doesn't even look surprised. You recognize his expression as barely masked playful amusement, like he just thought of a new prank to pull. "Oh, would ya look at that."

...

That was it? THAT WAS ALL HE HAD TO SAY? Oh, would ya look at that. You tried not to show your disappointment, but he looks down at you and his playful expression immediately softens.

"Don't look so sad, jeez," he huffs. "If you wanted to kiss me so bad you should've just said so."

You sputter, seeing your plan fall to pieces. "I- but- you-"

He crosses his arms and looks through you. "Yeeesss? I what?"

"You're... you... and I can't just ask, because, well..."

Bright leans forward slightly. "Because I'm practically a living legend and you feel like dirt beneath my feet even though we work in the same god damn site and drink from the same coffee machine?"

Curse him for being able to read you like a book. "Yeah..."

"Oh, don't worry about it," he said, patting your shoulder. Then his hand slowly moves up to lift your chin up to face him.

"So, just so we're clear. Are we here to talk about the sapient cereal box, or did you bring me here to kiss me?"

You glance away, your face feeling as hot as the surface of the sun. "The- the second one."

"Well then," he says with a cheeky grin. "Let's do this, yeah?"

You nod shakily.

You've had daydreams about kissing Jack before. You supposed he'd be good at it, seeing as he had decades of experience under his belt. But you severely, severely underestimated him.

Jack hums softly as your lips meet, and his hand moves from your chin to caress your face. His other hand, still holding his cup, snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Your lips move in tandem against each other, and you're nearly overwhelmed with the complete ease he has at making you fall apart without using his teeth or tongue.

You pull apart after a moment, softly panting.

"Wow," you say.

"So it does work," Jack muses, removing his arm from where it was wrapped around you, and you mourn the loss.

You quirk an eyebrow. "What works?"

"This," he holds up his cup, filled with a shimmering, clear liquid. "I snuck in to use SCP-294 before tonight's party and I asked for a cup of "the stuff dreams are made of." I thought it'd get me high, or something."

You laugh disbelievingly at the absurdity and utter cheesiness of what he just said.

"Are you serious?"

"I am! Do you want a taste?' he said, eyes darting to your mouth and his tongue running across his bottom lip. You can probably see where this is going.

"Yeah, sure thing, Jack."

He doesn't even hesitate to put his lips on yours again, coaxing your mouth open with that clever tongue of his. And oh, if you thought the last one was good, this was divine. There's something possessive in how he hums into your mouth, and you're sure everyone in the room is watching. He nibbles on your lip as if to say 'Ignore them, only pay attention to me, me, me,' in the insistent way he does during your little conversations. Bastard probably wanted to show off. You find that you don't mind. You taste the stuff dreams are made of as he gently pushes you against the door frame and rubs soothing circles on your hip. It tastes, oddly enough, like cereal.

[missjessefantastico]

who's surprised? nobody!

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny adopts himself

It's a common joke in Gotham that Bruce Wayne will adopt any black-haired and blue-eyed traumatized boy he finds. So much so that even he leans into it. But he was completely shocked when Damian confronts him about having a new brother that he did not want.

Bruce could barely get a word in when the rest of the family arrived upset that they weren't told about getting another sibling after Damian texted the family group chat (for once).

Damian had encountered a boy around Drake's age moving stuff into what was an empty room. The room was now furnished top to bottom with glowing green lights, tapestries of stars, random artifacts, several telescopes, and model rockets.

He knew the moment he saw the black hair and blue eyes that his father had taken in another ward.

Apparently Bruce was the last the know about his new "son" who was currently rearranging furniture and asking to help Alfred with dinner.

Said dinner was an uncomfortable as Bruce was grilled by his kids on his addiction to adoption. Simultaneously they tried to get to know the new addition to the family.

It was easy to see that Damian didn't like Danny but it was equally easy to see that Danny could cow the boy like a border collie on a lamb. When Damian thew a dagger the teen caught it with one hand as it passed his face and then slid it across the table back to Damian.

"Try again. " Danny said "And this time don't aim to miss on purpose. If you want me dead you need to do better."

Damian put the knife away and huffed.

Tim and Danny hit it off almost instantly. The way they were able to bounce their thoughts back and forth made Tim believe that he found an equal.

Danny was able to understand Cassie immediately with just look in eachothers eyes like he was reading her mind but not in a creepy way.

Jason of course noticed the strange energy in the air around the kid. It was soothing. Like lavender wafting in the air. Well lavender for everyone else for him it was like opium. His eyes felt heavy like he had eaten a handful of poppy seeds. At the same time he felt full, like he had eating a full meal after starving for a week.

Whatever it is Damian was feeling it too. The demon looked even more his age as he rubbed his eyes and yawned. The crease in his brow gone.

Duke on the other hand was more on edge as his eyes flickered towards Danny before looking away. He had something he wanted to ask about the glowing boy but since no one can see it or just isn't saying anything he will keep quiet for now.

Next was Barbara who teased the new kid.

"So how do you like your new family? Ready to be the new robin?" She asked.

"Im robin." Damian mumbled groggily.

The others were waiting for Damian to finally fall asleep and glared at one another in a challenge to be the one to pick up Damian and put him to bed. Dick was winning.

Speaking of Dick, as expected he was off the wall excited to learn more about his new little brother. He wanted the full story as to why Bruce took him in. He could almost certainly guess it was because of a tragic situation and Dick was already ready to handle it as the greatest big brother ever and he wasn't sharing the title no matter what Barbara said. Even if she was Stephanie's favorite.

Bruce cleared his throat and the table went silent. "So, Danny. Where exactly did you come from? Why are you here? And how did you know who I am?"

Everyone went white. Did they all just risk their identities believing that Danny was a new Robin? Why didn't Bruce say something? Not even a signal for the protocol they would use.

Danny frowned looking a bit hurt.

"What do you mean, Bruce? You said you owed me. You said you'd give me anything I wanted if saved your son. I even helped you get back home when you got lost in time." Danny huffed feeling betrayed.

The table went silent.

Bruce made a few calculations in his brain before something must have come to mind. "I lost my memory for a bit so I need a bit of proof."

Danny placed a batarang on the table. The batarang had an engraving on it in a code that only Bruce knew.

"You told me to show this to Alfred when I came. We had a deal, Bruce. You promised me whatever I wanted." Danny huffed clearly insulted.

Just like Danny had said the code was the one Bruce had made. However this code wasn't a promise to grant a favor but to welcome someone new to the family. Past Bruce must have had plans to take the boy in but told Danny something else to lure him here.

Bruce recognized that everyone was right and he has a problem now that he's looking at it like this.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[writersdrug]

I need the bartender Simon having to escape upstairs for a few minutes just to control the monster in his pants just because of a more direct provocation from the reader

I was saving this ask and I think this is the perfect moment after Simon sees reader in his shirt, no?

Warnings: NSFW, masturbation, sex toy, pining, daydreaming about p in v sex

He doesn't dare go up to his room - even after the bar is closed, after you and Johnny are both gone, after his tasks are complete. His mind has been scrambled ever since you came down in his shirt, looking like you'd just woken up from having a nap in his bed. He knew that wasn't the case, but it was so easy to pretend. You made it easy, looking like wearing his shirt was just your typical Friday outfit. If he tried hard enough, sitting at the bar after hours, sipping on an Old Fashioned- he could imagine you were up there right now, lying stomach-first in his bed, wearing his shirt, with "LT RIELY" on your back - you weren't objective, he certainly doesn't think of you like that - but having his claim on you aroused the most primal part inside him. If only you could see what you've done. Did you even know it?

Price comes lumbering down the stairs. Simon doesn't bother to look at him; he sits at the bar, his Old Fashioned long gone, with an empty whiskey glass and the mostly-full bottle next to him. He was hoping to replace the thought of you with drinking, but he didn't have the stomach for it.

"I'm plannin' to see if Garrick wants to join the team." Price says, shrugging on his jacket. "I know he wanted to be his own man, but we could use him. Our girl's made this place quite popular."

Simon wants to spit out the words he'd just heard. Our girl. Whose girl? John's? Soap's? The entire pub? It was his name on your back. Not Price. Not MacTavish. He was the one you came to with all those receipts, numbers scribbled in the margins, trusting him to help you ward them off. Sure, you have fun with everyone, asking them all for help - but you go to him the most easily, whenever you need to feel safe. Bad customers, bad situations - you looked to him. Didn't that mean anything to Price?

He doesn't respond to his captain, choosing to stare at his empty glass instead. Price looks at him quizzically.

"Feelin' alright, there?"

Simon grunts. "Long day."

Price knows he's bullshitting him. He knows exactly what this is about. He sighs, pulling his beanie on and tucking the money pouch into his jacket. "If you want 'er, Simon, tell me to back off. Can't read your mind."

That has him pursing his lips, grip tight around the sides of his glass. He would have punched John, was he any other man. He knows exactly what Simon's thinking, yet he makes him work for it. Typical. His pride and his jealousy are fighting tooth and nail against each other, but he can barely say a word.

Price stands there a moment, waiting for Simon to speak - but he doesn't even spare the owner a glance. Bastard's always punishing himself... he thinks, sighing again.

"Bright and early tomorrow, lad." He says, heading towards the kitchen. "Lights off when you're done here." He knows Simon's capable of closing, but he repeats it every night regardless.

"Sir."

Price stops, halfway through the kitchen door. He looks at Simon, who's now staring directly back at him. There's a look in his face, something that reminds him of Ghost - the reason he became his right-hand man.

"Respectfully..." he says slowly. "Back off."

Price almost finds it comical. Like an animal staking its claim, staring at its rival - except they’re not rivals. The only reason Simon is bothering to play his captain's game, asking for permission to have what Price would happily hand over, is because he's his superior. Even if they're all retired from the SAS, no one ever really dropped the dynamics of the team.

He smiles, nodding his head once. "Understood." He says, shoving himself through the kitchen door. "But hurry up and say somethin' to 'er. I'm sick of you losing your mind during the rush."

With that, Simon hears him leave through the back door. He stays there for a moment, his mind reeling - he feels both satisfied and angry at the same time. It was a bit humiliating to tell Price to leave you for himself - you don't belong to him. But that was a problem he was going to fix. You had his name on your back-

For Christ’s sake, he’s got to give it a rest. You wore his shirt, that was all. You wore it – with no bra. Bare. Naked underneath the 141’s insignia, under his title.

And that damn bra is still in his room.

He can’t take it anymore. He unscrews the whiskey bottle and takes a few swigs, before slamming it back onto the bar top. He leaves the bottle and the glass there as he gets up, making his way across the floor, up the stairs, passing the office, and continuing up to his studio flat.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. If you’d gone snooping, you either did a good job of hiding the evidence, or you didn’t really rifle through too much. His bed was untouched, his books and items where he had put them last – he goes into his drawers, checking to see if you had gone through anything other than his shirts. Considering everything is still where it should be, he assumed not. Though you did leave a mess in his shirt drawer – you’d been digging around in there until you found his old SAS shirt. Did you mean to do that? Were you looking for something with his name on it, just to drive him insane?

He goes back into his top drawer, muttering a curse as he pushes the contents aside. His cock is pulsing in his pants as he grabs his pocket pussy, slamming the drawer shut and heading towards his bed. He doesn't want to draw this one out - this is nothing more than a wank, just to get you out of his head. He sits at the foot of his bed and unbuttons his jeans, pulling his hard length out of his briefs – it bounces up and slaps against his abdomen, precum already smeared across the tip. He’s been hard for hours now, trying not to cum in his pants at the thought of your tits rubbing against the inside of his shirt. Do you have small, pebbly nipples? Or ones that are soft and pliant? He growls as he smears the tip of his cock against the lips of the toy, rubbing up and down the slit. He sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. You’re there, rubbing your lips on his cock, your hand wrapped tightly around his shaft as you stare up at him, licking and kissing his tip like a good girl…

He scowls and opens his eyes, sitting upright – he sees your bra hanging off the back of his chair, and he nearly passes out form how quickly the blood rushes to his cock. Pink lace, delicate and kinda skimpy… and your shirt, crumpled on the seat of the chair. You’d forgotten to shove them into your bag before you left. Or did you do this on purpose?

He's reaching out before he realizes it, slowly standing up and heading towards the chair. He wants to grab your bra, rub his cock in it until he stains it with his thick cum – but something in the back of his mind keeps him from touching it. One, it’s purely you, and he doesn’t want to ruin that. Two, he’s trying to cum. Not to cum to you. He’s doing this to get rid of your image in his head.

So, he goes for the next best thing. He grabs your shirt and sits back down on the edge of the bed. He lines himself up with his fleshlight and brings your shirt to his face; no wonder the drinks had turned it translucent, it was the thinnest fabric he had ever felt. Practically skin.

He presses it against his face and inhales: the scent of you, sweet, floral and spicy, fills his mind. It makes it all to easy to imagine that you’re sinking down onto his cock, and not that he’s stuffed it as far as he can into the toy. He groans, his eyelids fluttering shut as he pumps his hips once, then again… the tightness of the fleshlight slides over him easily, offering no resistance with the precum acting as a lube while he grinds up into it, heat knotting in his gut. The waist of his jeans hugs his thighs as he slowly and steadily pulses towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths of your scent.

He feels like an animal. Dirty, cheap, and desperate. He has to remind himself that it’s not about you, it’s about having a good wank and getting you out of his head. He drops your shirt on his chest and uses his free hand to cup his balls, groaning as he massages them. The schlick of the fleshlight around his dick is loud, the sensation borderline painful as he quickly fucks into it, curses spilling past his lips as he slams the thing down to the base of his length, catching on the Jacob’s ladder piercing on the underside, then back to the tip.

He shouldn’t, but he lets his mind slip elsewhere. What would you be doing? Would you have your hands on his chest, lips parted in a moan as you drop your hips onto his thighs, your cunt dripping and squeezing around his member…? What are you doing now? Are you still wearing his shirt? Are you lying back on your bed, playing with your breasts under the fabric and using your other hand to toy with your pussy? What do you sound like? Are you saying his name, or can you make any sound at all?

He falls back against the bed. “Fuck fuck fuck-“ he mumbles. He’s caught himself in a trap here – he can’t allow himself to indulge in the thought of you, begging him to take your hips and buck up into you – but it’s impossible to get you out of his head. Even if he could, he doesn’t think he’d be able to cum without you. He squeezes his fist around the fleshlight, groaning loudly from the pain, trying to drown out the sounds of your moans in his head… you’re always there, ever present, leaning over him and whimpering in his ear, need you, Simon, wanna cum on your cock, want it inside-

It's all too much for him, but not enough. He turns himself over, climbing up to his knees on the bed. He props himself up on his forearm, holding the fleshlight with his other hand as he ruts into it, stuffing his cock in as far as it will go, until the lips are smashed against the base. He pants and groans, mouth hanging open as he hovers over the bed; over you, holding one of your thighs up, touching his forehead against yours, watching as you’re covered in a layer of sweat, tits bouncing with each violent thrust of his hips. Both wrists secured above your head with one of his meaty hands, whimpers and whines spilling from your mouth as you struggle to remain coherent. Your cunt swallows him greedily, hugs him tightly, pulses around him, coaxes him to pound into you harder and harder, your walls twitching as slick gushes around him, your fingers digging into the back of his hand as you cry out his name, “Simon, Simon, Simon”-

He hisses through his teeth as his balls seize up, his abdomen going taut and his dick twitching in the toy. He rips the fleshlight off and grabs your shirt without a second thought, wrapping it tight around his cock and pumping it. “Gonna cum, gonna cum- fuck- oh, fuck-!” He mumbles to no one as his orgasm is ripped from him, hips canting repeatedly as cum spurts into the fabric of your shirt, leaking out around his thighs as he thrusts into it, thighs aching from the exertion. He bites into his hand and growls as he continues rutting, fighting through the overstimulation to chase what remains of his high – but he soon collapses on the bed, huffing and groaning into the mattress.

His orgasm fades slowly, his heart ramming against his ribcage and the fog clearing from his head. Realization sinks in as he’s hyper-aware of your shirt, still wrapped around his dick, now soaked in his cum. He'd have to wash it, now. Filthy doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels, but he doesn’t find it in him to care anymore. He rolls onto his side, clutching your shirt in his hand. Fuck. One quick tug was all this was supposed to be, and now, he’s picturing you lying across from him. Face flushed, lips swollen and eyes hazy, smiling at him and panting. Telling him you love him. He’d say it back a million times. Listening as you breathe, as you talk about your silly little ideas for the pub, for redecorating his room… craving the moment where you drag yourself closer to him and snuggle into his chest for the rest of the night.

He hasn’t gotten rid of you, like he hoped for. He’s only made it more clear: he wants you. He wants his life to be threaded with yours, he wants to wake up next to you, he wants you to change his routine, to pick up his broken pieces and make a mosaic – and he wants to be there when you need someone, he wants to give you everything you want and more, whether that’s a life up in the clouds or down here, in his arms, in his small bed and lackluster apartment. You’d make it better; you’d make anything better.

He sighs, slowly sitting up and on the edge of the bed. Price was right – he’s got to hurry up and say something to you, or else he’ll be drowned in his obsession. You’d either agree to take this fucked-up giant on a date and end his misery, or you’d reject him, and he could force you from his thoughts and replace you with misery. It’s worked before.  

He pulls off his jeans and shirt and grabs the fleshlight, standing with a grunt and walking into his bathroom. He’s planning to clean the toy, but if he waits long enough, he might just be fucking it again in the shower.

[mattsmedusa]

✎ 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 ✮ 𝐜.𝐬 𝐰𝐜. 𝟏.𝟐𝐤 [𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭]

your boyfriend, chris, loved hearing your sweet noises of pleasure. he would do anything to hear you moan his name in that breathy tone, all drunk on his cock no matter where you were. he didn’t mind how loud you got, it only brought him more pleasure. well, you weren’t usually that loud in bed, you knew you’d get a noise complaint if you let your voice out completely, but you can’t really keep quiet when all he does is try to make you moan even louder.

"o—h, chris," you sighed shakily, your head thrown back in ecstasy as he slowly pushed inside. chris groaned lowly when he bottomed out, feeling your velvety walls pulse around his cock. he leaned down and nuzzled in your neck, his hands caressing your sides as he started to move. "y’feel so good baby, so fuckin’ beautiful," he murmured against your neck, kissing and nipping on the skin there.

chris being chris, with his hyper fixation with your moans, groaned in pleasure when he heard you moan so delicately, but he didn't want you to moan softly—he wanted you to scream his name. he wanted the whole neighborhood to know who was fucking you so good, who was making you feel so good. your eyes rolled back briefly when he started to pound into you, the tip of his cock mercilessly slamming into your cervix.

your eyes closed shut, eyebrows knitted together and back arching as profanities left your parted lips along with louder moans. chris relished in them. a shudder went down his spine when he heard you moan his name loudly when he hit a particularly spongy spot. he knew what he was hitting, he knew your body inside and out, after all.

"oh, did I find your sweet spot ma?" he cooed, tauntingly, before slamming hard into that spot again – purposely this time, making your back arch more, hands scrambling up to grip onto his forearms that held your hips in place on the bed. your whole body shuddered and trembled as he kept slamming precisely into your g-spot with a relentless pace, your moans nothing short of pornographic.

chris let out shaky low moans as he heard your sounds grow louder, his fingers working deftly on your puffy slippery clit, bringing you closer and closer to something earth-shattering. your eyes teared up in pleasure, already so fucked to say anything except "harder" and "faster". what could he do other than give you what you wanted? after all, he wanted it as much as your needy self.

the bedframe slammed against the wall in rhythm with his pounding, the bed creaking with each movement. your body rose up the bed with each thrust, making chris groan in annoyance. he wanted your body to stay still so he could fuck you harder just like you wanted, but with the way your body was bouncing it was near impossible, and so, he quickly thought of a solution.

you whined when he suddenly stopped and pulled out, "all fours, ass up, face down." he ordered, his voice breathless with unfulfilled desire and exertion. chris watched as you scrambled into position, presenting your backside to him, your face flush against the pillow. he let out a low whistle, "fucking love this view," he gave your ass a sharp slap before grabbing the flesh there with one hand and your hip with the other. you moaned into the pillow when he filled you up again.

his thrusts were punishing, exactly what you wanted as he surged forward with renewed vigor. chris couldn’t help but notice the way the pillow silenced your screams of pleasure.

oh, he was having none of that.

his hand left your ass and tangled in your hair, wrapping your locks around his hand before tugging your head up. your moans immediately filled the room, making his whole body shudder. your moans were music to his ears.

"fu—ck, chris, cumming, o—h," you mewled, "m’gonna—gonna cu—m." he grunted in satisfaction when he heard your desperate – barely coherent – words. "oh yeah? fuckin’ come on this big dick," one hand came down and around to draw quick circles on your swollen clit in time with his thrusts. "c’mon ma, wanna feel you fucking suffocate my cock." his voice was a near growl as he worked you closer and closer.

your body shook and trembled when you reached your peak, pure unadulterated pleasure etched on your features as you moaned his name. he didn’t stop, he couldn’t, not when you were moaning his name like that. you gasped when he pushed you down fully, your front side now flush against the mattress as he started to pound into you.

this was it. this was the position.

chris moaned lowly in pleasure when he heard your loud gasping moans, the way your legs lifted whenever he went balls deep only spurred him on. he fucked you mercilessly, and you couldn’t move away, you were trapped between his body and the bed. his hand yanked your head back by your hair so he could hear all the sounds you were making without it being muffled by the bed or pillow.

"fucking love your sounds baby, your sweet fuckin’ moans, only for me." he moaned in your ear, causing shudders to ripple through your body. you were fast approaching your second orgasm, the feeling of him going so deep and so fast was too much for you. his hand that was on your hair snaked around and wrapped itself around your throat. not quite cutting air supply, but enough pressure to have you gasping.

his free hand snaked under your body and strummed your bundle of nerves, the stimulation on your clit along with him repeatedly hitting your sweet spots deep inside you was your undoing. you let out high pitched keens and cries as you came again, your whole body shaking.

your pussy clenched around his cock rhythmically, all while pulling him in more. "f-fu—ck, your pussy’s fucking pulling me in, greedy girl," he groaned as he felt his release so close that he could practically taste it. a few more brutal slams and chris let out a guttural moan when he finally felt the pressure in his lower abdomen snap, his hips jerking against your ass as he filled your welcoming cunt full with his seed.

his hand soon left your throat, his breathing ragged, matching yours as his body slumped on top of you, his cock still letting out little spurts of cum inside your quivering pussy, painting your walls white. he nuzzled his face in the side of your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried to control his breathing.

after a while, he finally pulled out, both of you moaning at how sensitive you’d become. and almost immediately after he pulled out, his cum trickled out of your well loved hole. chris couldn’t help himself, he just had to take a picture. he took his phone from the bedside table and nudged you gently, showing you his phone. "can I?" he asked and you nodded, chuckling in amusement, still breathless.

he sighed in contentment after taking the photos and plopping down next to you, pulling you closer by your waist and nuzzling his face in your hair. "i love you," he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressed your body, worshipping every inch as you two lay there on his bed, relishing in the afterglow and love.

୨୧

[𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞!]

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @chaossturns @mels4ngel @sturniolozbae @hearts4werka @strnilolover @matts-sidepiece

© 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐚

[berryz-writes]

Blue

Azriel x reader

Summary: There's a large contrast between the warm and gentle Az you get to enjoy versus the cold and quiet demeanour he reserves for others

Note: FIRST FULL WEEK I HAVE THINGS PLANNED OUT FOR. this isn't entirely my favourite but fuck it we ball <33 enjoy lovelies

@azrielappreciationweek day 1

The kitchen is a warm, flour-dusted haven, filled with the sweet scent of sugar and vanilla as Azriel leans over my shoulder, watching me whisk the batter with an amused glint in his eyes.

“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my neck, “you could just let me do that.” He slips his arms around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Your hands might get tired.”

I laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “I think I can handle a little whisking.” I turn to face him, catching the soft, rare smile that lights his face, the one that only appears when it’s just us. I lean up, brushing a light kiss to his lips, and feel him pull me closer, his fingers resting at the small of my back.

“Hmm,” he hums, deep and quiet, his lips lingering just a moment longer. “You taste like sugar.”

“You’re distracting me,” I say, trying and failing to keep a straight face.

“Good,” he replies, his voice low. His gaze drops to the cupcakes cooling on the counter, and he raises an eyebrow. “They’re missing something.”

“Exactly,” I sigh, surveying the icing jars and realizing I’ve run out of the last colour I need. I hesitate, glancing at him, knowing he’s had a long week of missions and should probably be resting. But he just tilts his head, a patient smile on his face, like he already knows what I’m about to ask.

“Could you pick up more icing for me?” I ask, brushing a bit of flour off his cheek, unable to hide my smile. “Please?”

He chuckles softly, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “Anything for you.” There’s a gentle warmth in his eyes, a soft devotion that melts me from the inside out.

As he steps back, he squeezes my hand. “Save a few for me?”

“All of them,” I reply with a grin, watching as he heads to the door, wings stretching wide in the golden afternoon light. He gives me one last look before taking off, a dark silhouette against the sky.

Azriel's POV

Flying over the city, my mind lingers on her, the soft warmth of her laugh, the way her eyes light up when I walk into the room. She’s goddess incarnate, far too perfect for me.

The cold air rushes past as I fly, enjoying the time to stretch out my wings to their fullest.

But halfway through my journey, I feel Rhysand’s voice slip into my thoughts, quiet and laced with urgency.

Azriel, we have a guest in the dungeons. I need answers from him if you're available, it's urgent

I think about his words. Maybe if it had been a few months ago Rhys wouldn't have added the part of me being "available" knowing I was waiting at the chance to distract my mind. But ever since y/n walked into my life it was getting easier and easier to spend days doing nothing except enjoy her company. No torture sessions. No constant dagger sharpening. Just time spent with her.

Fine.

Was the simple reply I gave. It would only take a few minutes of my time.

The warmth I felt just minutes ago fades as I turn, heading down toward the underground jail, where shadows and silence reign. My shadows coil tighter around me, sharper, attuned to the work at hand as I descend into the dim halls of the dungeon.

The heavy door creaks open, and I step inside to find the prisoner chained to a chair, his gaze faltering as he meets mine. He tries to summon some defiance, but I can see the fear flicker beneath it, his breaths shallow as my shadows drift closer, surrounding him in darkness. This won’t take long.

I approach him slowly, letting each step echo off the stone walls. Leaning forward, I let my voice drop to a low, controlled murmur, knowing how much more effective a whisper can be. “Let's make this quick. Tell me everything you know"

I didn't have to elaborate on what I meant by everything. He knew what I was here for and I would get it one way or another.

He’s silent at first, eyes darting, and I can see him calculating his options. But there’s no fight in him, not against what he senses I’m capable of. My shadows close in, tightening like a noose around him, each word I speak dripping with cold intent.

After a slow drag of my dagger down the column of his neck the information begins to spill out, fast and frantic. I listen carefully, never blinking, absorbing each detail.

No need for lost blood; I extract every piece with surgical precision, each question laced with the promise of what could happen if he resists. Soon, he’s left shuddering, broken, and silent.

I silently thank the cauldron he didn't make this difficult otherwise I would have to clean up before getting to my wife and the thought of keeping her waiting was not something I enjoyed.

Before I leave, I pause, tilting my head as I look down at him with one last, almost casual question. “Pick a colour.”

His face twists in confusion, fear giving way to bewilderment. “Uh… blue,” he stammers, his voice barely above a whisper.

I give him a curt nod, acknowledging his choice before I turn and leave him to the shadows that linger. As I step into the fresh air aboveground, I make my way to a small shop, selecting a container of bright blue icing, a flash of colour that feels strange against the cold efficiency of what I’ve just done.

When I arrive home, I find her at the counter, surrounded by stacks of sweet heaven. She lights up as she sees me, her eyes crinkling with happiness. "Az! Thank you my love" she says, taking the container and pressing a warm kiss to my cheek.

I'd be lying if i said I didn't melt.

But then she pauses, glancing at me, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze. “What took so long?”

I shake my head, not wanting her to worry “You don’t need to worry” I murmur, my voice gentle. “Rhys just needed something done”

She watches me closely, as if weighing my words, a knowing look in her eyes. But she doesn’t press. Instead, she smiles softly, letting her fingers brush over mine as she returns to her cupcakes.

I linger there, watching her work, feeling the lightness return to my chest as I settle back into the life we share. She doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.

With her I feel like life is worth living.

note: should have azriel year tbh

[klausysworld]

hey, so i’ve been having this scene in my head for days where y/n and klaus are kidnapped by some witches and they are put under a sex spell that makes both of them really horny. they gotta have intercourse for the witches to draw the energy that comes from simultaneous orgasms or something like that. they are reluctant at first especially y/n but klaus manages to convince/seduce her and they end up having the best sex of their life. could you write something like that pls?

Timeless Desire

Klaus groaned softly, rolling onto his back and peeling his eyes open. The light stung at his pupils making then shrink momentarily before they expanded beyond their usual diameter.

His body ran hot and a familiar but much more intense ache rolled through his body, his lower body especially. With a stiff grunt he placed his hand over his crotch, an immediate cry leaving him with how incredibly hard he was.

"Fuck" He breathed, lifting his spinning head and forcing himself up onto to find himself in a plain, bright room. He was fully dressed but he felt the need to tear each material from his skin. Just as he started to tug at the hem of his shirt his attention was pulled to a soft moan, one that made his loins stir.

Klaus spun round to see a vaguely familiar girl curled up in the corner. Dressed in a floaty dress that meant that the delicious scent of her arousal spread through the room like a wild fire. His eyes found hers, she was afraid that much was clear and if he were honest, he was also a little nervous but she looked scared of him and he didn't understand why.

His lips parted to speak but before he could, someone else's voice piped up.

"Perfect. You're both awake!" The voice was cold and mildly amused. Klaus felt his anger spike, he knew this witch. Not personally but he knew who it was and the type of shit this guy did. But the girl didn't, Klaus could tell that she was lost. "Now I know you're a little scared honey, but don't panic, I'm not here to hurt you." The guy grinned, adressing the girl before gesturing to Klaus "But he might" He whispered to her and Klaus frowned, confused. Did he know her? "Now you should recognise each other just a little bit. This, honey, is Klaus Mikaelson" He smirked and she sniffed, backing further into the corner, "And this is Y/n Y/l/n, you met once, she's part of Jackson's or I suppose now it's Hayley's pack" The witch explained and Klaus's eyes went wide. Hayley had introduced them, once, and he had liked her. He had flirted and teased but nothing came of it, so why was she here? Why was he here?

"What is this, exactly?" Klaus questioned, brows furrowed and eyes darting to Y/n who was squeezing her thighs together tightly.

"You know what it is and you're not gonna fight it. There are dozens of us who will benefit from this ritual and you will complete it by the next full moon." The witch told him sternly and Klaus's expression darkened.

"You're sick" He spat, he knew the ritual he meant. It was a power draw. Two supernaturals, when simultaneously orgasming would release a specific type of power that could be used and twisted to perform some of the biggest spells. Werewolves especially, their hormones are so high. And Klaus? He was perfect for this type of sorcery.

"Sick or not, It's necessary. You have a month, get to know each other if you have to. Or if you want to get back to your daughter them make it happen as soon as you can, hm?" He snapped and Klaus growled.

He knew what the witch was suggesting and based on how Y/n cried "No" , she knew too. The magic wielder left and Klaus looked to Y/n who was shaking her head.

"Please don't" She whimpered and Klaus sighed, brushing his hand over his hair and groaning at the sweat that coated him from how his skin boiled.

"I'm not...I won't make you do anything" He told her, trying to keep his distance but suddenly the room felt so much smaller.

They stayed in opposite corners, silent and uncomfortable. Sometimes she would cry and he would whisper that it was okay and they would get out but he knew it was useless.

When night came it was freezing, unbelievably and her body trembled. He knew what they were doing. They wanted them to lay together to conserve their heat, to touch. Instead, klaus pulled his henley over his head and pushed it over to her so she may warm up.

They stayed silent for days before Y/n began to struggle. His eyes had met her fading ones in the centre of the night and he nodded, getting up and coming over to her.

"It's okay" He whispered, laying down beside her and spooning her delicate figure against him. His cock was solid and pressed right against her ass but he didn't grind himself or say anything, he just needed to keep her warm and alive until the night was over.

But in the morning, the temperature was all the way up and their bodies were practically stuck together. Y/n was dragging the henley over her head, her body pressed against Klaus's and it made him bite down on his tongue hard. Her hips shifted without meaning to and Klaus groaned, bucking his hips against her firm ass. A whine left her and he grunted.

"Fuck, I'm- I'm sorry" He muttered, crawling away from her. He felt like a dog, a weak, panting dog that was desperate for water. His mind was hazy with her so close, he wanted her. He wanted to taste her, to feel her, hear her. Y/n looked so soft, so perfect.

She had curves, he could see them through the dress when she laid and he needed them.

But he couldn't, she was still scared and he couldn't make her. He would do a lot of things but he would not force her.

Klaus tried to stay away from her in the day, only touch at night for heat but then they started to get hungry, physically. Y/n needed food and Klaus needed blood. The witches said Klaus must feed from her and if Y/n wanted food then she would have to earn it. The deal was that for each minute they kissed, she would get a pice or a slice of something. No specifications, just something to entice her.

She was famished when she looked up at him, eyes wet with tears that hadn't yet fallen. Klaus softened, again, and let her shuffle over. His arms wrapped loosely around her waist and whispered gently in her ear. "It's going to be alright sweetheart, just a minute so you can get something okay? I won't hurt you"

Y/n leaned close to him, needing to feel safe and he could do that. She knew the witches were watching and it was unsettling but she also knew that she needed to eat.

So she closed her pretty eyes and let their lips collide. It was supposed to be closed mouth and quick but once they both got a small taste, they yearned for more.

Y/n broke first, surprisingly, and moaned against his lips. As soon as her mouth opened, his tongue was inside and their little kiss became an intense make out session. The heat was too much again and Klaus was pulling her to straddle his lap whilst his tongue fucked her mouth passionately.

They were both blissfully unaware of the time passing by as their bodies rubbed together desperately and her legs spread invitingly for him to lay between as he pushed her onto her back and bunched her dress up. His cock was so close to tearing through his boxers as he dragged his jeans down his hips roughly. Y/n was tugging at him overly eagerly, needing him inside her.

However as soon as he hand grabbed at her panties, her eyes flew open. A gasp leaving her throat and her face pulled away making his wolf growl and hers whine. The fear was back and he could smell it. He panted and let go of her underwear. His eyes listed to meet hers and she whimpered, but she didn't look too scared, she was still lustful.

But they didn't have time to talk about it. Not when a tray had appeared in the opposite corner. Y/n had scrambled over there, grabbing at the pieces of pancake and the berries. Klaus cleared his throat and pulled his trousers back on, he felt embarrassed but he knew he couldn't be due to the circumstances.

He came and sat by her whilst she ate, he was watching over her. Klaus had become protective. The witches had come in one night and tried to take her clothes, to speed the process and since that night he made sure to stay close. He had to fight them off, he almost turned and they knew not to touch her again. He knew that they were still winning, they wanted him to feel possessive and it was working.

He would look around the room, searching for where they were watching them from. He could never find it. In the end his attention would end up back on Y/n.

Once she had devoured everything on her plate, she was snuggling up to him and ready to sleep. There wasn't much to do bug struggle and sleep. The only issue was when she needed to sleep in the daytime. In sunlight hours, it was far too hot to be touching, as the next week came by Klaus ended up sitting in just his boxers during the day. Y/n had torn her dress so it was shorter but eventually it was shredded entirely and she was left in her bra and panties.

It felt so much better in the day but at night? Klaus often worried she would die. Even with their werewolf bodies generating heat, she wasn't strong enough for the temperatures they were putting them through. He would be wrapped around her, on top of her, holding as much over her as possible so that she was as warm as he could have her. It was in the night that he would feed from her. It felt so intimate, too intimate and he couldn't have the witches seeing and he couldn’t have the combination of the heat, her body and feeding all at once so he did it in the cold and dark.

Sometimes, his hands would stroke her skin whilst he fed and when he pulled his mouth away from his neck he would give her little kisses as a thank you. But little kisses weren't a thing. They got sloppy fast and they would be dry humping in minutes.

Too many times one of them had cum in their pants. It resulted in them both completely naked. Y/n had clung onto her bra but he had torn it off her when in a frenzy.

Their lack of clothing made everything difficult.

Klaus wished that the witches could've drawn power from the times he had cum against her leg in the night but he knew that had to be inside her and they had to do it in unison. It was the only way.

He missed his family. He needed to get home, Hope probably thought he had left her but whenever he looked at Y/n, he couldn't ask her to do it. How could he? In the span of weeks he felt that he loved her, he couldn't hurt her.

They had been lead together all night and all day, despite the heat. Their mouths seemed permanently attached, always kissing, licking, loving. Klaus didn't realise how it would feel to cum without any friction. To simply get so hard that he couldn't hold it in. His cock felt like it had exploded with ecstasy. Y/n had giggled when it went all over her stomach, she had stroked his hair gently while he panted and let her kiss his jaw.

"I love you" He whispered to her one day, it was on the fourth week but they didn't know that. Time wasn't real to them. It felt like months had passed with the amount of time they had spent together.

Y/n didn't reply, it hurt him but he understood.

"Would you lie to me...so that you could get out of here?" She asked him a while later, voice weak and eyes avoiding him.

"No" He whispered. "If I were ever going to do that, I would have done that in the first few days. I promise you, I won't ever hurt you. That full moon and come and go, they can torture me but I will never-"

"We have to...I know we do...I just- I"

"I know" He murmured, stroking her arm. "I'll take care of you" It was a promise.

"They'll watch..." She whispered, and he could see that inkling of fear again. It only appeared when the witches were mentioned or showed themselves.

"I'll hide you" He whispered, he pulled her into his hold. "We can be right up in the corner, they'll only see me."

"They've already seen me" She uttered and his heart broke, he was sure of it. He cupped her face and pressed their foreheads together.

"I'm going to rip their eyes from their heads as soon as we get out of here, I promise you" He told her, his voice incredibly low so that they couldn't hear. Y/n nodded silently and sighed softly.

"Maybe just...try something smaller first?" She questioned and he tilted his head but caught on when she shyly touched his hand, his fingers.

"Yeah...we can do that" He whispered, caressing her hand gently and lifting it to kiss her palm. "I can do that for you" He nodded whilst his hands glided down her sides, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Y/n whimpered softly and closed her eyes, focusing on the intoxicating sensations he created.

His lips pressed to her cheek before scattering down her neck, sucking briefly to make her moan whilst his hands massaged her thighs. Y/n pressed herself right to him, her skin on his and her breath against his ear whilst he brushed his touch between her legs.

A low groan left him when he felt how wet she was, not that he expected less. She had been permanently soaked since they were put here. He had felt it through his clothes at the start, when they would move against one another; more recently she would grind on his thigh but he hadn't been able to really touch her how he wanted. She was much more aware than he was which surprised him with his years of restraint and experience.

Many moments of weakness had struck him. He would stroke himself as quietly as he could but he knew that she knew. They were both far too physically sensitive to feel the psychological shame. To begin with they did but now? They had accepted the desperation. They were submitting to it.

That was obvious when his forefinger slipped inside her with ease. Y/n whimpered and curled her fingers against his shoulders whilst her pussy clenched. Klaus pushed a second finger in with only slight resistance and slowly moved them in time.

"It's alright" He mumbled, kissing the side of her head "You're nice and wet for me" He whispered and she moaned softly. Her eyes squeezed shut and her head rest against his neck to muffle her sounds. His thumb hovered over her clit, encouraging her to move her hips in time with his hand.

They started tentative and gentle but the heat took over soon enough. His digits moved inside her as quickly as physically possible, her hips bucked in a frenzy and her moans were no longer hidden and quiet. She was loud, desperate, hungry for him.

Klaus bit down on his tongue to shut himself up as he pumped three fingers into her enthusiastically. He was certain he could stretch her wide enough for his whole hand but he didn't need to. She bit down on his shoulder when she came around his hand with no warning other than a broken cry.

He expected her to be exhausted but she only seemed more eager for him to finally fuck her. Her mouth was on his in seconds, begging him to take her. His fingertips rubbed her clit, trying to bring her down from her high but it only riled her up further.

"Love" He mumbled, a groan to his voice, "Sweetheart"

Eventually she stopped and looked up at him. Her pupils were blown and he fought against every instinct as he cupped her sweet face and kissed her forehead.

"I'm sorry" she whispered "I got carried away"

Her cheeks were blushed red and it made him smile. "It's okay, I just didn't want you to keep going if you didn't actually want to" He murmured, knowing that the intensity of the witches magic was sending their bodies into overdrive.

Y/n nodded and glanced down at his hand with embarrassment.

"Why don't you go see if they've filled your tray?" He suggested softly so that her attention shifted. Y/n went to her feeding area and was able to relax and eat her only meal of the day whilst Klaus went to their usual sleep area. The remains of their clothes worked as some sort of bed and he sighed softly at the reality they were living in.

He promised himself that he would have her wrapped in the finest silk sheets, clad in the softest of clothes and fed the most exceptional of meals. He would care for her, he would get to care for his daughter again and see his family. He hoped they'd be happy to see him.

Similar thoughts swirled through his mind each night as he lay with her curled in his arms. Sometimes she would ask what he was thinking and he would tell her whilst she silently hoped that she would get to stay with him once they escaped.

As the full moon neared their scents became stronger and each little, harmless touch became much more intense. They both became more animalistic. Touch, food and sleep was all they wanted and it was all they got.

Klaus was far too happy with the recent development of being allowed to touch that sweet pussy of hers. His fingers were always inside her however after hours of having her fall apart on her hand she needed more. Which was how Klaus ended up with his mouth attached to her cunt for an entire night.

Much to his embarrassment Klaus had borderline begged her to touch his cock. Y/n had felt guilty for letting him struggle and stroked him until he was as much a mess as she had been.

They weren't aware that it was the night of the full moon when their lust overpowered them both.

The witches had the rest of their ingredients ready to draw from the two wolves once the moon hung high.

Klaus's mouth had moved up and down her body three times mover before his cock finally spread her pussy lips open. Her hands grabbed at his skin, her nails dragging up his back to pull him closer.

"Are you sure?" He breathed though he wasn't sure if he could actually stop himself if she said no. Thankfully she was all the more eager.

"Please Klaus, I'm sure, I'm ready" She begged, her eyes pleading with his and making him nod subconsciously and push into her.

The first few thrusts were as slow as he could manage as his fingers curled to grasp at the ground beneath them. His claws extended without him knowing whilst his cock thickened inside her and pushed against her soaking walls.

His head fell forward whilst hers went back and her own claws sunk deep into his flesh.

It only took a minute before control was tossed and Klaus's mind went into overdrive. His hips started to snap aggressively to hers, his ears longing to hear that harsh slap of their skin meeting and the immediate moan that left her lips.

His hands slid under her back to hold onto the back of her shoulders to get a good grip on her whilst he thrust into her roughly. Her legs were up around his hips and he could feel the heels of her feet hit against the base of his back with each thrust.

"God, I love you" He panted, his eyes burning gold as he clung to her tightly and pressed his lips to her jaw. Her cunt was so wet and hot, he never wanted to leave. She squeezed him so delightfully that his vision would go for a moment here and there.

Y/n couldn't close her mouth for even a second, her sounds were endless whilst she begged.

"Harder, Klaus. Please!" She cried, her claws shredding the skin of his back. He obeyed her demands and bucked his hips harsher, hitting that spot with more force.

Klaus watched her eyes roll back whilst her body tensed and tightened.

"Not yet, love" He murmured through a strained voice. He gripped her tighter and moved faster, chasing what his body desperately needed. Klaus groaned loudly, his mind was on fire, his body too. A fire of desire set them both aflame.

The witches gathered in a circle, their chanting synchronised as they felt the power start to flow.

Klaus held himself up with one hand whilst the other slide down the front of her body to dip between her legs. His cock continued to slide back and forth roughly within her whilst his fingertips began to circle her swollen clit.

Y/n was borderline screaming for him when she came undone, her jaw open when he sheathed himself to the hilt and released inside her.

Their foreheads pressed together, sticking with sweat as they panted warm air against each other's mouths.

Y/n felt the weakening first. It hit hard, as though every ounce of her energy was dragged out of her soul.

Klaus noticed her skin paling and worry settle dover him before he felt the same struggle. He muttered incoherently, trying to tell her it was okay but his mind went fuzzy but this time it wasn't due to pleasure.

He knew that the witches had completed their ritual but he hadn’t expected the effects to happen so quickly or be quite so intense. Unfortunately his thoughts were cut short when everything went dark.

It felt like days had passed when he woke again.

His head rang and his arms shifted to hold onto Y/n but she wasn't there.

Immediately he pushed himself up, ignoring the blaring ache throughout his muscles. His eyes were wide when he saw the familiarity of of his bedroom. Relief flooded him before the confusion and the worry.

"Y/N!" He yelled, his throat raw. Elijah appeared in the doorway, rushing over to his brother.

"Niklaus-" He spoke, voice clear as he put his hands on the hybrids shoulders. "It's alright- we got the coven, the majority are dead. We kept the leaders back for you to deal with and-"

"We have to go back right now!" Klaus told him, eyes wide. "Y/n's still there, tell me you didn't hurt her-" He yelled before a throat cleared and Klaus pushed Elijah out of the way.

Y/n was stood slightly behind Hayley, dressed properly for the first time in weeks and looking up at him with a tired but genuine smile.

He took fast strides before pulling her into his chest and smelling her now clean hair. He looked ahead of him and smiled when Rebekah came into view with Hope on her hip.

Y/n pulled away so that Klaus could hold his daughter and she rubbed her eyes. Hayley placed a gentle arm on Y/n's shoulder and gave her a smile.

"Welcome to the family" She told her, a lighthearted tone to her voice in hopes of keeping the positive energy of their rescue alive rather than the haunting memories of their time in the room.

[cvnntagious]

:: babydaddy!matt has no problem sticking up for brat!reader

matt wasn't the type to get easily riled up—especially not to where he felt the need to get physical about it. he was more the type to talk things out, most would say. and that's exactly why it was such a shock when you made your way towards the commotion in the living room to see matt with a guy under him, fists of fury hammering into the poor dude's face.

for a moment, you contemplated if this was something you even wanted to involve yourself in, given is was your child's father. but when matt's hand continued coming down repeatedly with no sign of stopping any time soon, his opposer barely fighting back at this point, you couldn't find it in him to let him just keep kicking this guy when he was so clearly down.

giving a harsh tug on matt's plain black t-shit, you pulled him off like he were a misbehaving dog. his head snapped back to see who had grabbed him, brows unfurrowing the moment he came face to face with you.

his breathing was ragged, waiting for you to berate him as the people surrounding you two scrambled to stop the guy who was once lying on yhe dloor from standing up. to his surprise, you pulled him along with an annoyed grunt, slipping out of the party amidst the chaos of the fight. "where're we going?" matt asked, only to be ignored as he followed behind you until you guys were far from the house.

"i knew this was a stupid idea," you finally muttered, letting go of his wrist to turn and look up at him as you two stood in front of his car. your eyes, scanned his face, maneuvering your head to get a good look at any injuries he may have.

matt's mouth opened, wanting to explain. he knew you didn't want to hear it. "m'not hurt," he replied simply, shaking his head as his eyes finally met yours.

you clicked your tongue, giving him a deep sigh as your eyes rolled for what already felt like the millionth time tonight. "what's your problem?" you asked, addressing the big fat elephant standing right in front of your guys' faces, "forget you're an adult now, hm? have been for almost five years... fighting's how you catch cases, dumbass."

the scoff that left his lips made you want to slap some sense into matt, giving him a look that said, 'are you a fucking idiot?' as you waited for whatever lame excuse he might conjur up. but you should've known better than that. you knew matt had never been the type to go out fighting recklessly, so you should've known something had seriously bothered him. and the fact that something so simple had slipped your mind made his reasoning all the more shocking. "kid was talking shit," he answered, eyes averting to look anywhere but you, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

again, you weren't paying enough attention. "yeah? what, he said your fancy little carharts weren't cool enough or something? so you had to go and risk literal jail time?" you insulted, growing increasingly more annoyed with each passing second, "i mean, seriously, i don't know what i'd do if that guy chooses to press charges—you better hope nobody recorded that."

matt looked at you with a softness to his eyes, feeling his chest tightening a bit at your words; for a moment, those last few sentences made it feel like you needed him. of course, he knew in the back of his mind that you were thinking of mazzy, but he'd like to remain at least the slightest bit delusional in the moment. "come on," he scoffed again, "it was about you... the guy was talkin' shit 'bout you. was i supposed to jus' let him?"

the confession made your breath hitch a little, head pulling back and brows furrowing in a mild confusion. then, you came back to your senses, the attitude rising within you apparent on your features. "what'd he say?" you asked with a quick work of your neck.

"s'nothing important." matt was quick to brush you off, a certain coldness washing over him.

"really? then why'd you fight about it," you pressed on, a brow raising as if to tell him you simply didn't believe him.

he shook his head, mouth openining and closing as matt thought of an excuse. he couldn't – or, moreover, he didn't want to lie to you. "jus' spewin' some bullshit about you, like, bein' overly difficult... said you rejected him an' shit earlier. i guess he was upset about it," he answered, realizing he may have overreacted a bit now that he was explaining it out loud.

"that's all?"

matt shot you a confused look, shrugging a bit. "yeah—i mean, i also saw him tryin' t'grab on you earlier, so..." even that that wasn't really all, truthfully. it was the way the guy was so persistent, eager to start some sort of smear campaign against you between all of his friends. his lack of regard for matt as he badmouthed you, knowing what matt was to you. what you meant to matt.

you were quick to push past him, another annoyed grunt as you shoulder checked him. "just let him talk next time," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "that's not your battle."

matt turned and watched you walk away, in utter disbelief that this was how he was getting treated for standing up for you. of course it was his battle. who else was going to fight it? you? absolutely not. that guy got what was coming to him, saying whatever so carelessly.

"stay if you want," you called back, head turning to look at him, "m'gonna stop by your house to pick up mazzy from chris and nick."

w/c : 971 taglist : @mattsturnswife, @br1annax, @x0x0bunny, @m4ttsmunch, @mattsnumberonehoe, @k4yd1, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @sturnstar169, @bxtchboy69, @strnilolover, @little-miss-shay, @sweetobservationface requested by anon.

[brrahbrrahcharacterimagines]

Old Man (Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Reader)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Wolverine/Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3615

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Minors DNI!, Sexual themes, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), p in v penetration (wrap it before you tap it), cum, swearing, use of "Baby" as a pet name, small alcohol mention, Older man/younger woman, Reader has female genitalia

Summary: After moving in to the mansion, you have developed quite the crush on the older, grumpy Wolverine. After he finds you walking the grounds one evening, what could happen if you face the fact that you've been flirting with each other for months?

A/N: I have always had such a crush on Hugh Jackman's Wolverine so Deadpool and Wolverine is like a dream come true

You were thankful that the other mutants had found you when they did. You had just lost your job, behind on your rent, and the most recent Tinder date had ghosted you. When a group of likeminded individuals came to you with a promise of a free place to stay, how could you say no?

Once you had arrived and decorated your room, Professor Xavier revealed the place wasn't quite free. With a mutation allowing you to manipulate food at will, he thought you may be able to help provide for all of the children and teenagers living at the mansion. Despite feeling a bit slighted, you were glad to have been given a purpose.

Over time, the mansion began to truly feel like home. You felt at peace in the kitchens, putting together meals for the other occupants. Many of the residents saw you as a maternal figure despite you not being much older than them, only being in your twenties. No matter your age, they tended to enjoy talking through problems with you over some tea and your famous chocolate chip cookies.

Something else that had grown over time at the mansion, alongside others fondness of you, was your own fondness for a particularly grumpy mutant. You couldn't explain it, as it didn't seem like you had much in common. You were generally a pretty bubbly, happy person, eager to speak with the children to help them out. The Wolverine was, well, not exactly described the same.

Nonetheless, he began to consume more of your thoughts. At first more of a schoolgirl crush, thinking about how you found him attractive. Of course you had thought about the fact that he was much older than yourself, but you didn't pay that much mind as you expected the little crush to go away over time. Instead, the crush became stronger and stronger until it was something you knew would not go away soon. Laying in your bed at night, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to feel Logan laying in bed next to you. Or perhaps, on top of you.

Using your powers to conjure ingredients for the student's lunch, you let your mind wander again as you worked. You imagined what it would be like to feel the Wolverine's hands on you, walking up behind you while you were cooking to place his hands on your hips. Resting his chin on your shoulder as he relaxed into you, making you giggle as his beard tickled your neck.

"Do we have any beer?" Came a voice, startling you from your daydream. What startled you most was the fact that it was his voice, as you spun around to face Logan, hoping your face was not as flushed as it felt.

"Give me just a minute," you said with a smile at him. "You know Charles doesn't like to keep any on hand since there are so many kids here," you said slyly, "but lucky for you my powers can extend to food and drink."

He sat down at the table nearby with a sigh. You tried not to notice the picturesque way he seemed to pose as he sat, legs spread and chest puffed out. Stop being such a creep!

"Why couldn't he have found you sooner?" Spoke Logan. The lazy smile on his face as he said those words made your face hot, hoping he didn't notice as you got to work on his request.

Handing him the drink, your fingertips brushed his. As you moved to let go, you felt him linger.

"Thanks, bub," he said, looking up into your eyes as he took the drink from your hand. You turned away quickly, resuming your work in hopes he didn't notice the way that his stare made you heat up.

Thankfully, Logan chose not to stay long. Once he left the room, you felt you could finally catch your breath and focus on the task at hand.

-

This was a pattern that the two of you fell into. Simple conversations never lasted long, but they always seemed to end with a linger. Oftentimes you would find yourself trying to sneak a glance at the man, only to meet his own eyes before shifting your own away quickly.

You tried not to look too far into those moments, after all, there's no way that Logan would be looking deeper himself. Surely it was a coincidence, or perhaps it was merely a symptom of the social cues he tended to ignore in favor of brashness. He never seemed rude during conversation with yourself, but it may be correlated. At least, that's what you decided to believe. Allowing yourself to believe the alternative, that he was purposefully flirting with you, could never end well. You were not going to open yourself up into that kind of disappointment.

Walking the grounds of the mansion, you took in the cool autumn air. After a busy day, you thought a walk in the moonlight would be the perfect thing before making your way to your bedroom. It was a futile attempt to clear your mind before trying to fall asleep, even though you knew despite your efforts your mind would still drift to Logan before you did so.

With a sigh, you took a seat down on a nearby bench. Looking up at the sky, you were grateful Charles did not allow much light pollution nearby, allowing you to admire the stars.

"The hell are you doing out here?" Came a gruff voice from behind you, making you jump. Even though the suddenness of the voice breaking the silence making you jump, you knew who it was immediately.

"I could ask you the same thing, Logan." You said, turning to find the man coming up on the bench. He rounded the corner, motioning to the empty seat next to you as if to ask permission to sit down. You nodded, and he did just so.

The two of you sat in silence, taking in your surroundings. At least, that's what you assumed he was doing. The only surrounding you could take in now was him. He smelled good, like smoke and a cologne you couldn't place. Your thigh brushed against his seated so close, and as soon as your leg touched his it felt as if it could have caught fire, spreading through your body quickly. The power he had over you was undeniable, and you pled that he wouldn't notice.

Looking over at him, you saw him looking into the distance. You took the moment to observe the way he looked under the moonlight. His hair looked soft, as if begging to have hands run through it. The stars reflected within his eyes, giving them a subtle sparkle. Your eyes trailed down the slope of his nose, down to his lips. You were sure that if you were to kiss him, his facial hair would tickle your cheeks in the most delectable way. You felt your breathing deepen.

Logan turned towards you, a look that you couldn't quite place in his eyes.

"What are we doing?" He asked.

You felt your heart clench, unsure if you should be confused or nervous.

"What do you mean?"

He chuckled, "you know what I mean. As if you weren't checking me out a few seconds ago." You turned away in embarrassment, feeling your face heat. He continued, "we've been dancing around it for months. I should have put a stop to it a long time ago."

You felt your body heat in embarrassment even more. Not only had he noticed how you felt, but just as you assumed he did not reciprocate those feelings.

"I-I'm sorry," you said softly. Afraid that if you rose your voice any louder, you he would hear the wobble in your tone. You didn't want to cry in front of him, especially now.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said with a sad chuckle. "It's not your fault. When I said I should have put a stop to it, I mean an old man like me shouldn't be flirting with a young thing like you."

So he was flirting, you thought. Even though he seems regretful now, at least you know you weren't looking into something that wasn't really happening.

"It's not like I wasn't flirting back," you said with a sigh. "If I wanted you to stop I would have told you."

You could feel his eyes flip to you quickly, as if he was surprised.

"What did you just say?"

"I-I would have stopped you?"

A smirk made its way slowly onto his face.

"You wanted me to flirt with you?"

Your face scrunched in confusion at his words. "Was I not obvious?" There is no way he didn't pick up on your feelings. "Did you not just comment on me checking you out literally minutes ago?"

His smirk only grew, "maybe I just thought you were naive. Good to know there's more to it."

"You were flirting with me, thinking I was just naive?" You questioned, a slight burst of confidence making you reflect on what he had said previously. "A young thing like me?" He faltered at your words.

"What do you-"

"You said so yourself," you purred, confidence clouding your judgement, allowing you to reach toward him to place a hand gently on his outer thigh. You were sure to note his sharp intake of breath as you did so, only emboldening you further. "You liked flirting with me didn't you, Old Man?"

He nearly groaned at your words, sending a rush through your body. his eyes, previously glued to your hand placement, flicked back up to your eyes. They didn't stay there, and you noticed his heavier breathing as his eyes began to flip between your eyes and your mouth. Not wanting to wait for him any longer, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. You were right, his beard did tickle.

You kissed Logan softly, moving your lips with his as soon as he got over his shock. The softness of your lips on his, paired with the near-innocent way you kissed him drove him crazy. Logan's arms made their way around you, pulling you towards him so that you were sat on his lap. His strength was already known to you, but the ease of his action still made you squeak. If he can move you this easily while kissing you, your mind ran wild with what else he could be capable of.

He deepened the kiss, leaving you just about breathless. Your excitement, and ego, only grew as you felt Logan's own excitement growing under your lap. Hands frenzied across his chest, grabbing his shirt while he continued to use his arms to press you close to him. You didn't even register you had begun moving your hips against him until he pulled back, his head rolling back with a groan that was purely sinful.

"You're a little minx, you know that?" He grumbled, but made no move to stop your motions.

"Logan," you whimpered, batting your eyelashes at him with wide doe-eyes. His last thread of self-restraint snapped inside of him as he heard his name fall from your mouth. He had already let himself go much further with you than he had planned, but now that he's heard how you sound saying his name he needed to hear it, again and again and again.

He rose from the bench quickly, grabbing your hand in his much larger one.

"Come on," he grumbled, pulling you along with him. He moved hastily, but you kept up easily. His pace only made your growing sense of arousal quicken as well.

Before you knew it, he was pushing open the door to his room. The room matched the man, and you noticed how it smelled like him too.

"Sit," he commanded motioning to the bed. You had never thought yourself one to obey a man so easily, but something about his tone made you do as he said. Logan made sure the door was locked behind you both before returning to you quickly, taking your lips in his own again. His tongue darted out, running across your bottom lip. A moan escaped you involuntarily, and he relished in the noise. To have you here with him, so needy, so willing, so young. Even though he knew he should have blocked himself off from you as soon as he heard you were only in your twenties, he couldn't deny the fact that it only turned you on now that he had you in this position.

He held your thigh with one hand, using the other to snake under your shirt to cup one of your breasts over your bra. You moaned again at his touch, only encouraging him further.

"Take it off."

You pulled away from him just far enough to grab the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head. You then reached behind you, unclasping your bra and throwing both articles of clothing to the floor.

Logan smiled, eyes not leaving your breasts as he spoke.

"Well damn, I just meant the shirt but I'm not complaining."

The blush that rose to your face spread down to your chest as well. The way you flushed at his words was gorgeous to him. He never wanted this vision of you to stop. There was a part of Logan that was still convinced he may be dreaming.

Wasting no more time, he laid you down. His bed was much softer than you would have guessed. One hand made it's way to one of your breasts as his mouth made its way to the other. You moaned as he squeezed one breast, using his tongue to flick over your nipple on the other. The heat pooling between your legs was nearing a point of becoming uncomfortable. From the rigidity of Logan pants where they pressed against you, you could assume the same was true for him.

You reached down, palming him through his jeans. Already, you could tell his size would break you. It's not a thought you minded. He groaned at the contact, the vibrations making their way from his mouth to your nipple. Every part of you felt on fire, overheated as each touch of his sent you deeper into arousal.

You gasped at the sudden loss of contact, Logan pulling away to pull his own shirt off his head. You made no attempt to look away from him, taking in his built chest and abdomen. You wanted to put your mouth all over him.

"Like what you see?"

He pulled his jeans off before crawling back on top of you, one hand fingering each of your nipples as he attached his mouth back to your own. He captured every moan of yours into his mouth, as if devouring them would mean he could hear another.

Your hips has a mind of their own, craning upward towards the bulge in his boxers. As your clothed heat came in contact with him, he reciprocated with a growl, grinding down into you. Your mind spun at the increased contact, heat continuing to grow in your belly.

Logan pulled away from you again, making you whimper. His mouth trailed down your body, stopping at your breasts before continuing further. His fingers looped under your waistband, and he looked up at you as if asking for permission.

"Please, Logan," you whined with a wiggle of your hips. With your confirmation, he nearly tore the bottoms from your body trying to take them off so fast. Revealing your panties to him, he groaned as he saw the way that they were clearly soaked through. He loved the effect he was having on you.

The panties didn't stay on you long though, tore from you as well as you felt his warm mouth find your cunt. His tongue licked slowly from your hole up to your clit, nearly making you scream. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his tufts. The soft tug from your fingers make him moan into your pussy and you tucked that information away.

His speed increased, tongue flicking over your clit in sloppy circles. Your moans and whines only continued to spur him on, and you felt a finger prodding at your entrance. He pushed it in slowly, feeling your velvet walls clench around him.

If one finger feels this good, you thought, how the fuck am I going to take him?

He began to fuck you with his hand, adding a finger when you were ready and pushing slowly in and out of your soaking pussy. Combined with the movements of his tongue, you felt yourself reaching your peak quickly.

"Logan, I-" you whimpered.

"Come on baby," he said gruffly, only backing off your cunt long enough to get his words out before continuing his motions. "Cum for me baby. Show me how good you taste."

You moaned at his words, it being all you needed to push you over the edge. Your body shivered at the intensity of your orgasm, walls clenching around his fingers. Logan eagerly lapped up your juices as you came, only slowing down as your moans became breathier as you came down from your high.

" 'm gonna fuck you now baby," he growled. Despite having just orgasmed, his words sent a wave of tingles to your core. "That sound alright?"

You nodded, looking into his eyes as he made his way on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you, and you could taste yourself on his tongue.

"Use your words."

He took his length into his hand, mesmerizing you with the way he lazily jerked it in his hand.

"Please," you whispered.

"What was that?"

"Please, Logan, fuck me!" You cried.

"That's it," he said cockily as he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance. "Damn you're fucking soaking wet for me, aren't you?"

You could only moan in response, his cockhead stretching your walls as he entered you. It hurt as he stretched you in the best way, feeling more full than you ever have before you had even felt him bottom out. When he finally did, he used every ounce of restraint to stop himself from moving too much as he allowed you to adjust to his size. Before too long, you began to squirm under him. Your hands roamed his body, from his abs to his chest to his arms. With the way you whimpered under him, he was glad for your motions as he wasn't sure he could stay still much longer.

He began pulling out, before pushing back in tantalizingly slow. You moaned wantonly at the movement, feeling his dick twitch inside of you. You wiggled your hips, trying to push closer to him.

"Logan," you whined as if begging. Looking into his eyes, you could see how dark they were with lust. His pace increased, only making you louder as you kept your eye contact with him.

"Fuck baby," he grunted. "Not to bad for an old man, huh?" The way you moaned in response, mouth open in an 'O' shape as your eyes stayed locked to his told him he was correct. Your hands clawed your way down his chest, your eyes falling shut in your pleasure.

"Look at me," he demanded. You did as told, your big, lidded eyes filled with want nearing him towards his orgasm. All you could do was whine, whimper and moan, no hopes of formulating any real response. It was as if you were drunk on the way he felt inside you, pushing in deep and hitting all the right places.

"Are you gonna cum again for me baby? Let me feel you clench around my cock?" All his words did was make you moan louder, as if that were even still possible. You had never felt this level of pleasure before, and you knew you were going to be addicted. One of his hands made its way to one of your nipples, pinching it and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You felt your tummy flutter, clenching as you reached your second orgasm.

Your vision filled with stars, nearly screaming as you reached your peak again. Your walls clenched around Logan's cock, prolonging your orgasm as he continued to pound it in and out of your cunt.

You felt his thrusts begin to falter, grunting and growling as his movements became even harder and deeper than before. He suddenly pulled out, making you miss that feeling of fullness as he jerked himself off with his hand, spilling his cum onto your stomach and breasts.

As you both began to relax again, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way his seed looked across your body, your flushed face and the way your breasts moved as you huffed breathlessly.

"Take a picture," you joked, "it'll last longer."

"Can I?" He replied cockily, breathless himself as he cocked an eyebrow making you giggle.

After helping you clean yourself up, Logan laid down next to you with a deep huff, pulling the blanket over the both of you.

"We've got to start doing that more often," you whispered. His arm opened for you, letting you snuggle into his chest sleepily as he wrapped his arm around you. He placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

"Oh baby," he chuckled softly, "after all that, I don't think I ever want to stop."

You drifted off to sleep, feeling protected under Logan's grasp, happy you had decided to take that walk.