#this was in my drafts for a while but my powers been out for a week

[honey-on-your-tongue]

Hey, I wanna a a request from you.. about the worst wolverine!Logan (or the one in th x-men series) × mutant!fem!reader.

Reader may have powers like Wanda Maximoff or Jean Grey, but she's stronger. Anyway, there's my main plot; enemies to lovers, a HUGE breeding kink, possibly pregnancy(the a result of the kink hehe) Wade is the person who introduced them, and Reader's Wade' bestfriend. They saved the eart 10005 and they celebrated this at Wade's (and Blind Al's) house. Logan may be a complete jerk to the reader at first, and he may have attacked the reader in the scene in the Honda Odyssey, but then things change and so on. Can you write somethin' like that? If you do, thanks already!!! See ya, bub, take care of yourself.

I’VE HAD THIS IN NY DRAFTS FOREVER WHAT

HAPPY HOLIDAYS

I hope you enjoy this, babes ❤️

Ever since Wade came looking for him and took him to earth 10005, Logan’s life has been easier. There’s less hate towards him (which is an understatement, really; he’s now adored and it never ceases to surprise him) and it feels like, maybe, he’s redeemed himself from what he did. Maybe, his luck has finally started looking up.

But then there’s you. You infuriate him. Every time he sees you, he just wants to put his claws through your ribs. Although he did that already, in the Void, in that stupid fucking Odyssey. But it wasn’t nearly enough. God, he can’t stand you. The way you talk, the way you walk, the way you handle yourself. Sharing an apartment with Wade and Blind Al doesn’t bother him, he even stands Mary Puppins and her hairlessness. But you? You who likes to walk around at night in an oversized shirt and sweatshirts, who leaves the apartment smelling of your perfumes and shampoo after you shower, who he can hear as you fuck yourself with your fingers night after night.

His room is next to yours, he’s heard the way you work yourself up, how you eventually manage to get your pussy soaked enough to stuff your fingers into yourself. It pisses him off. And what he hates most is that his body reacts to it. Having been so hated in his world means that the last time he had sex was…Well. It’s been a while.

So he uses that as an excuse. Of course he doesn’t want you, his body just needs the sex, that’s all. He wants the sex, the release. Nothing more.

Maybe that’s why he does what he does.

On one of those nights where Blind Al is probably too out of it with her cocaine and Wade is probably at Vanessa’s, he hears you. The sweet sounds of your little whimpers and your heavy breathing, the obscene, slick noises that leave your cunt as you fuck her with your fingers. And Logan can’t take it. He just cannot take it anymore.

He barges into your room and delights in the way you react. Your wide eyes, the way you scramble to pull your fingers out of yourself and cover your body with the bed sheets.

“Logan!” you yell, cheeks blushing furiously. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“What are you doing, bub? Touching yourself like you think I can’t hear, or like you hope I will.”

“You didn’t even fucking knock,” you continue, mortified.

He closes the door after himself, locks it just in case. “You’ve been at it for hours, bub. Hours. Is something wrong?”

Still flushed, you refuse to reply. You just clutch the bed sheets tighter.

“Can the poor little girl not come on her own?” Logan insists, smiling. When you fail to answer again, he insists, “Hm? Do you need help, girl?”

The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know. The scent of your arousal thickens and he’s lost.

He’s quick to crawl onto the bed, prowling over you. He leans down, lips nudging at your neck as he gently pushes the bed sheets aside. “Let me see you, baby,” he says lowly, his eyes hungrily taking you in.

You’re so beautiful, prettier than he ever thought you’d be.

His already hard cock twitches in his pants, demanding attention, but he ignores it. For now.

“So pretty,” he says, mouthing at your jaw as his hand slips between your thighs. He touches the slickness spread over your skin, how warm your pussy is. Your folds are swollen, your clit throbbing. You’re probably raw from how long you’ve been touching yourself, so he’ll make sure to not overdo it. He’d hate to hurt you.

He slips a finger into you, groaning as he finds little resistance. “God, you’ve got yourself all stretched out already. All open for me.”

He leans back onto his knees, pushing your legs up to your chest and spreading them apart. He eyes your cunt, all needy and spread wide.

Growling quietly, he reaches for his pants. He pushes them down to his thighs, his eyes on you. “Let me put my cock in you, bub,” he says, almost begging.

You’re so out of it, dazed with the need to come and the lust that’s overcome you, that you just nod in agreement. “Yeah, yes.”

He wastes no time. Slowly, he nudges into you and fills you to the brim, the breath leaving his lungs. “Fuck, Logan.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grins, pleased with himself. He starts out slow, thrusting into you with care as he tests the waters. When your pussy releases its grip on him some, he thrusts harder, deeper.

You squeal, hands gripping onto his forearms as they hold your legs to your chest, keeping you nice and spread for him. Your nails dig into his skin, your eyes squeeze shut. He’s fucking you too hard for you to even say much. You just whimper, gasp, mewl.

It helps that you’ve been touching yourself for so long. You come around him with so much force that your body falls limp against the bed, your pussy spasming around his cock.

And it’s not fair to him. He hasn’t had sex in so long, how is he even supposed to hold back.

“Oh, baby. Oh, baby. I’m gonna fill you up, bub. Gonna put my child in you.”

You gasp at the words, whining lowly.

“Yeah? You want me to make you a momma? You can make me a daddy, hm, bub? Yeah?”

Your body writhes underneath his, your eyes wide as they meet his. “P-please, yes. Please.”

That’s all he needs. Not only did you just give him permission, but you’re begging him for it.

“Baby. I’m gonna fill you up, ‘m gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my come and you’re gonna keep it in you. You’re gonna give me a child, maybe two if you behave, hon.”

And he does. When he comes, rope after rope of thick, sticky come spurt into you. He fills you up until it’s dripping out of you, until he’s spent and he can’t come anymore.

You two stay there a while, trying to regain your breaths and let the high wash away. He kisses your forehead softly and lays own next to you, knowing he’s gonna be ready to go soon.

For the next few weeks, it’s more of the same. He fucks you again and again, filling you with his cum to the brim every time.

That’s why it’s no surprise to you when you miss your period. No surprise at all. In fact, you have no doubt that Logan is going to be thrilled. Now there’s only the matter of telling him…

---

Blog masterlist

[abyssal-ilk]

please give us vivienne headcanons the people want them

then the people will be given them! as a holiday present or something, idk, this has been in the drafts for a minute. i've got a whole bunch but have some off the top of my head

- vivienne struggles sleeping anywhere in a location she isn't used to. so the early days of both haven and skyhold, sleeping out on the road, settling into an inn for the night– it's all difficult for her. she's a mage, and notably one who does not like exploring the fade when she dreams. each new place she sleeps takes her to a new part of the fade, and it sometimes leads to her skipping sleep when she can risk it. she will also actively avoid solas if they happen to be in the same part of the fade while sleeping. he's tried tempting her to explore more of the fade and he is NOT defeating the pride demon allegations.

- her favorite place to sleep is in bastien's estate! she's very wary of any spirits she encounters there still, but she enjoys spending time in the fade's version of the estate's garden. she hated sleeping in both the monnstimard and ostwick circles, though.

- vivienne is an alcoholic. in the same way your aunt says that it's fine that she drinks so much and its not a big deal because it is Just Wine, vivienne usually has a glass in her hand more often than not. she very rarely drinks to the point of being inebriated, but she gets stressed when she hasn't had a drink and relies on it maybe a bit more than she should. she doesn't drink red wines, though. she won't even touch them.

- adding onto the previous one, dorian and vivienne are drinking buddies! usually it's just vivienne having a glass or two while dorian gets trashed, but there has been a few times where it has been the reverse. they don't talk about it afterwards.

- vivienne does have a favorite type of magic and it is her healing magic, not her ice or even her sword. being a healer means people rely on her, which she likes, and it also means she doesn't need to rely as heavily on other people when she can do it herself. the act of healing is also pretty therapeutic to her in a weird, morbid sort of way. feeling bones snap back into place, sinew threading itself back together, and burns fade to scars under her fingers makes her feel powerful in a way her combat magic just. doesn't.

- this leans more to canon, but vivienne is also an alchemist! her heath potions are potent as hell, but holy shit is there a kick to them. in general vivienne has several practical skills that a lot of other circle mages don't. she can make potions, she can stitch wounds, she can sew clothes, do her own laundry, cook– anything and everything to be as reliant on herself as possible.

- sometimes during down-time moments with sera she'll tap her nails against whatever is near her to get that scrape-y, crawly sound. skitter skitter.

- and one of my favorite ones, vivienne has worked with/hired the bull's chargers in the past before inquisition! she occasionally hired them when she needed some beast to be killed for an ingredient, a pelt/hide, or if it was generally causing problems and it would look good for her to stop those problems. she pays them well and, on one occasion, joined them to take down a particularly bothersome drake. bull missed that fight though 😔

if anyone would like more or to share their own, feel free to send in an ask <3!!

[nose-rice]

OH MY GOD YES. YES YES YES. I mentioned this in my og post but with the whole Nuru being raised differently, I mainly focused on her being a girl and royalty. But being a black girl also plays a huge roll with the whole "you're either the mom friend, or sassy". I've seen her portrayed as straight up mean before which is personally infuriating to me.

And with Yong!! Like you said he's a pre-teen! While I certainly wasn't matured, I wasn't thinking surface level thoughts. You start to overthink, find yourself, and your rose-tinted glasses start to fade just the tiniest bit. He's more than just "wow.. ypu guys seem really sad," or "wow! I'm so happy my fireworks worked!" And him being the fat asian kid leads is also troubling like you said. He's never taken seriously beyond the surface level "I don't wanna bother you guys" It's just really sad to me because I see so much of myself in Nuru, and I absolutely ADORE Yong and his absolutely vibrant personality. I feel like he holds immense power when it comes to shifting the tone of the story since he's the main source of optimism in the group, which could also set up a character arc that deeper than one short little moment of introspection.

Also this is a more personal thing but as a mixed poc, I am STARVING for literally any fun cool story I love with MAIN poc characters with complex thoughts and arcs. And I mean the MAIN. STARS. I'm a little tired of seeing the white lead with their poc friends that serve them in every way, and if we're LUCKY, perhaps a poc love intrest, which we didn't get here lol. Ofc I still love them. I just have been craving more diverse characters that can be seen in a complex light, which is what started my whole Nuru rant (i love Nuru soso much)

And i do agree that part of it is the way the story was set up fundamentally, with there being almost no info on Nuru and Yong, and being centered more on the main white couple. But I think it's great that it was just a first draft, and Anna and Kay have said they enjoy seeing different interpretations and chages. It's just unfortunate that most people tend to grasp onto what we're given a little too much, and not exploring so many possible concepts. The whole point I feel was that it was an idea thrown out there to whoever wants to add on to it or simply just enjoy what's already there, but the fandom pretty heavily tilts toward the "enjoy what's given" side.

Not to mention DONELLA AND ULLA?? EVEN CYRUS!! I personally am biased towards Donella but I feel a lot of the things with her can be said for Ulla too. I feel that a lot of the time they serve as plot devices for Varian and Hugo respectively. Obviously they're all very important to eachother, but I wanna see more of THEM. Just Ulla. Just Donella!! There are some good fanworks and art out there that do dive deeper into them, at least a big chunk more than Nuru and Yong which is a little sad. But I feel like I never see any fanworks that focus on their backstory aside from the library and "sons". What about THEIR parents, where they grew up? Their little quirks and their cultures? I especially find the way some Donella redemptions feel half hazardly taped on for the plot infuriating because to get to her state, you have to be pretty set in you beliefs!!

And to be fair Cyrus is very much less involved as he is Don's "side kick" sort of? Bodyguard? It's up to interpretation. But I really like seeing people giving him a bigger role in stories. Like. PLEASE. This is more just me asking for things I personally wanna see but I sorta wanna see a found family dynamic between Cyrus, Hugo, and Donella. The "villain trio". I think it would be super fun! Love seeing people rant about this stuff because I never see it talked about!!

Guys I NEED to rant about my thoughts on Nuru because i love her <3 ramblings ahead

Like I feel like in almost every fic i read, she's just like, a side character that's there to make whitty remarks to Hugo and be the levelheaded one. If she has an insecurity or problem it's usually pretty surface level and solved quickly, or only mentioned once or twice. I think there are SO many aspects of her character that are so cool.

Okay first, I think we sometimes forget that she's a nerd just like the rest of the gang. Yes, on the outside she's definetly the most 'normal' one, but I think we should concider the fact that she's the only girl in the group, and she's literal royalty. She was raised with a completely different set of standards than the other three. I don’t think I've really ever seen anyone cover that. I feel like she would get called "mature for her age" when she's only 15/16, and almost always gets critisism when she talks back with her own ideas (like her concerns about the meteor shows for example). I feel like out on her journey, she would finally get the freedom to just be herself, and be a kid and be able to rant on about her intrests with the rest of the group. It could be a struggle at first, but it would be awesome to see her getting more comfortable with the group the longer they spend together! Nerds encouraging nerdy rants lol

Since she is a kingdom figurehead, you could also argue that she always has a lot on her hands (especially since she's very proactive when it comes to science and solving problems). This could bring up a need to be productive, or always feeling like she needs to make the right decision, even for the littlest things.

I also feel like a lot of the time she's potrayed as the "right" one, who is 100% right when it comes to stuff like arguing with Hugo. Since they're opposites when it comes to class, they often are compared through that lense. I think it's cool just having Nuru tell Hugo off for judging a book by its cover, but I feel like they have a lot more in common than they realize. I think it would be interesting to see Nuru judging a book by its cover too. Maybe not to the degree that Hugo does, but I feel like calling out both their judging would not only call out character flaws, but it also enforces that even though they hate eachother and would never want to be like the other, they have a lot of the same flaws.

Also, being sheltered in a palace her whole life, I think she might think kind of black and white sometimes, and while she knows when people are just being mean as an act, she might struggle when it comes to people like reformed criminals.

Maybe she's able to be meaner to Hugo because she justifies it by telling herself he's criminal, and therefore bad, possibly glossing over the reasons he might be like that (maybe it crosses her mind, but she tells herself it's not a good enough reason, because stealing is still stealing, and he literally steals EVERYTHING. Even little trinkets and stuff he definitely doesn't need!). When they find out about Varian's criminal history, maybe she reexamines her views on morality and how she used to see people, because by her standards, Varian is a 'bad guy' who's caused harm to SO many people, but he's also the kind, caring, helpful friend that she's been traveling with who would never willingly hurt anyone.

Moving on to Amber x Nuru, I honestly never find myself liking the ship because Amber isn't developed enough which is fine. I don't think every character has to be a magnificent work of art. Side characters are side characters, but their romance is usually written like: "wow that girl is cute! I have a crush now!" Which is cool, but then that's about as far as it gets, then timeskip! Or offscreen they're a couple now. I know it's a side couple so it won't have as much devlopment as something like Varigo, but I never really see their dynamic play out in different situations. Like I don't know how to explain it, but it feels like they solely exist to be a couple? Amber sometimes just feels like an extention of Nuru, and their relationship feels surface level a lot of the time.

I feel like too often she's just watered down to the nice, smart, grounded friend, and I don't know I just think there’s so much more to explore with her. She’s not just some side character. She's literally part of the main cast! Even in fanart I feel like she doesn't really get a lot of stuff besides funny art and just like, pictures meant to look pretty. Unlike something you get a lot with characters like Varian or Hugo.

And honestly I get it. Some characters you just don't take an intrest in. I know I find Varian, Hugo, and Nuru more relatable than I find Yong, but I feel like part of that is developing their characters rather than just seeing them on a surface level. Ofc there are exceptions and there are some stories that dive deeper into Nuru's character out there! I just happen to see this A LOT.

Wow i said "surface level" a lot didn't I 😭😭

Anyway thank you for reading my rant i wanna know what you guys think!!

[riptidefromzoe]

How I would have fixed Bianca Di Angelo's Character

First of all Bianca is a character who has very little actual personality or backstory, I'm afraid ultimately she is just another age old case of a woman being killed in order to further a man's story.

So to fix her(and give her an actual character) I would do the below:

1.Make her older!

• I would make her 14, a few months older than Percy(specifically born on June 9th 1932, idk why but I feel like it fits her) seeing as Bianca being 12 logically makes zero sense in the context of her story. Making her older would in turn make her choice to join the hunters, make Artemis's decision to let her become a hunter and zoë's decision to let her join the quest all less stupid. Her being older would also make her the second choice for the prophecy, above Percy. It also just fits with what little character she has to be older.

2. ACTUALLY GIVE HER A PERSONALITY!!!

• Something that has always deeply annoyed me is that she has no personality! We're clearly meant to be devastated by her death but we know so little about her that her death doesn't really invoke any emotion. When we look at the Greek big 3 kids personality's in all honesty she and Percy have a lot more in common than Percy and Thalia or Bianca and Nico, so l'd hone in on that, id point out their similarities(though I wouldn't make her basically female Percy, there's already enough of that in this fandom), make her happy, make her gloomy, make her apathetic, just make her something!

3. Expand more on her powers and what they would have been had she not died.

• I wouldn't make her show off too much as to not give away the surprise of her and Nicos father but l'd definitely give her something. I saw once in a fanfic that her powers were to control the rivers of the underworld and do things like turn any water into a river of the underworld and I quite liked it and thought it was creative.

4. Don't make Bianca's entire character revolve around Nico!

• Bianca's character completely and utterly revolves around Nico, it's always 'oh Nico this' and 'Nico that' like please shut up!

Why is Bianca 'mothering' Nico at all??? For the first 9/13 years of their life's they lived with their mother and all the other parts were in the casino; where they had their every need taken care of, and their school; where Bianca and Nico probably weren’t even around one another very often!; they both also mainly grew up in fascist Italy(an extremely misogynistic place & time mind you) so even with that(Especially with that) it makes no sense why Bianca would be ‘mothering’ Nico(honestly nico would most likely been raised and expected to protect and take care of her!)

—

This is less of a fix and more of a silly headcanon but I’d have her steal 6 friendship bracelets from the gift shop whilst at the National Air and Space Museum. One for Percy, one for Thalia, one for Zoë, one for Grover, one for Nico and one for herself(she got one for Nico because even whilst caught up in becoming a hunter she had noticed that Nico was sad, most likely from feeling left out, so she got him a bracelet so when she came home she could give it to him and he wouldn’t feel so left out anymore). When she dies she takes her and Nicos bracelets with her. They never find either bracelets. Percy, Thalia and Grover have never taken the bracelets off.

—

Anyways if you have any other suggestions or thoughts please let me know!

(This has been sitting in my drafts for a WHILE now😭)

(Also sorry if this is hard to read!!!)

[esmeblaise]

Instead of setting sail and leaving Luffy alone Ace and Sabo got twin tattoos for their 17th birthday (they were both very very drunk)

masterpost

[mintjeru]

"but if you turn around now. then, i'll kiss you according to my conviction."

bonus:

open for better quality | no reposts

[love-is-a-pearl]

daily reminder that dawn is the only one out of the OG trio that gets a special pika-name ♥

[gensnix]

So apparently totk isn’t getting a dlc here’s some botw->totk things that make me go mmmmh 

[mishy-mashy]

WELP got a new BNHA fic idea about the Resistance and an entrepreneurial OC, including:

Kudo is pretty sure the university barista isn't as polite and proper as she seems. Bruce doesn't believe him

"Are you sure you want to be working on Valentine's, Shiki-san?" Bruce looked up at the red streamers hung around. "Don't you have someone to go out with? It'll be really busy with all the couples."

She gave a closed-eye smile, which set off an alarm in their heads as this was very much not her usual one. It was a familiar sensation, being why they stiffened—the instinctive fear of scary women.

"What are you talking about, Bruce? Other than the fact that I have no time for romance..."

Her back turned, fist clenched as fire erupted in her eyes and around her. The aura she let off darkened her surroundings to a noxious blue, and Kudo could swear he saw GOGOGOGO~ characters shrouding her.

"Coffee dates are a classic. I can't turn down this chance to turn a profit......"

Bruce and Kudo sweatdropped.

Kudo likes facial masks

"Are those things really essential?" Bruce deadpanned, watching her stash mask packets away.

"If I ever need a self-care day to relax for a bit," she said.

Kudo put a finger on his cheek, touching the results of the deluxe face mask he stole from her.

"Totally understandable. Shit feels great. I'm smoother than a baby's ass."

"Kudo," Bruce warned, not wanting him to swear in front of her.

"That's why I was saving it. Jerk."

"Jerk who saved your life."

"Kudo!"

Being asked out by All For One while undercover with a fake identity

Her brain stalled.

"Fumi Haruka. Be my woman."

"..... I'm sorry, but we barely know each other. So, a relationship like that is..."

Yoichi didn't want to be here. He really did not want to watch his brother do this right now.

"Brother!!"

... Oh boy.

Yoichi doesn't understand Resistance codenames

"What's your name, dear?"

"Yoichi," he mumbled.

"What would you like to be called?"

"Yoichi."

"...... Alright." She didn't falter, tone as chipper as when she first asked. Similarly, Leader and Bruce didn't even blink as she introduced herself with a codename.

Writing their own domestic fanfiction in a canon-divergent void out of boredom

"I think we should adopt," Yoichi said thoughtfully. "I'd love to give children another chance at family."

"Oh, boy, 'children' plural." She did not miss that little big fact. "What's the limit of children? I don't want more than three."

"I want six," Yoichi hummed.

"More than one," Kudo decided so firmly that he definitely already had a number in mind.

"Only one, because just one is going to drive our house crazy," Bruce remarked as the sole voice of reason. "I wouldn't mind another one when the first is old enough."

"Well, we definitely aren't in agreement."

Going through their theater kid arc while waiting for the other vestiges

"She's the most beautiful girl in the whole town. That makes her the best."

"Damn, Kudo, didn't know that was your motivation," Bruce muttered not-quietly-at-all.

Yoichi still learning his memes

"Are we all cowabunga on this?" Yoichi asked the other holders.

None answered him. Finally, Shiki sighed and spared them all the discomfort of answering. "Yeah. We're cowabunga."

"God, I hope the road works ahead," Kudo muttered under his breath.

"This is fine." Bruce held up a thumbs-up.

En crinkled his nose, keeping quiet. They were his senpais, but, They're so outdated.

The first four holders being old

"Do you think we should call them Quirks now?" Yoichi asked Shiki, turning his head. "It's been long enough. No one calls them Meta Abilities anymore."

"Eh..." She looked away, not partial to the idea.

"We should keep up with the times," Yoichi decided for them.

".. If you think we should," she relented. Yet again, she fell victim to it: no one could say no to Yoichi. "Quirks," she tried it out. "Quirks. We have Quirks."

"No offense, Shiki-tan, but it sounds weird coming from you."

"Bruce, please."

Bruce basically having aneurysms whenever his attention is brought to All Might and Midoriya's health

"I WAS RIGHT."

"Bruce-"

"FORCING HIMSELF TO DO SOMETHING HE CAN'T DO WILL JUST BREAK SOMETHING."

[*Midoriya using One For All for the first time]

[st4rstudent]

Unfortunately, it has gone quite slow. This writing thing has HANDS!!! It's just a short one story since I haven't actually wrote anything in a whiiileeeee. i think its about maybe halfway done

[starsundertheceiling]

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND how anybody could know all the details Bylers know about byler and not go insane.

How could they know about their years of friendship and their yearning and their love barred by internal and external homophobia, then see them fight and support each other and flirt and sacrifice for the other, and not want to scream into the void.

How could they know that Mike Wheeler and Will Byers are the only ones that will ever truly fit into the other’s perception of true love because it’s THEM.

How could they spend their days with a clear, unshaken mind knowing that if only one of them worked up enough boldness in themselves to say what he truly feels, they could be together but they aren’t.

How could they know about all of the theories and details and intricacies and gestures and expressions and 

How could they not immediately fall into an existential crisis knowing that there are irl people responsible for byler and we won't know what happens to them until s5 is out.

Every time I think about them I spiral into insanity.

And I think about them a lot, so you can imagine the kind of state I am in.

[h-a-unted]

Cassandra "Cassie" Webb was an orphan whose mother died at childbirth for unknown circumstances. She was raised in an orphanage for non-Supes where she grew up awaiting for foster parents who would care for her. This never came. Instead, once she was of age and able to have a job for herself, she takes on the mantle of a paramedic and moves out of the orphanage and into an apartment complex, where she would occasionally have the company of a stray cat – and a box full of things from her mom.

The first sign of Supe abilities comes as she aids a man trapped in an upside-down car hanging from the edge of the street. Apparently, one of The Seven had been trying to stop a criminal, some damage was bound to be left behind ("collateral damage", if you will). Though Cassie successfully saves the man in the car, as she takes a sigh of relief, the car falls into the river with her inside, and she dies for all of 3 minutes. During those 3 minutes, she witnesses threads, webs, noises, and an overwhelming sensation of unnatural strength coursing through her body. She wakes up and, suddenly, the world she knows is long gone. Hell, even her body feels overwhelmingly different.

Now, she is much more aware of web threads around her, and suddenly, she starts seeing visions of what's to come minutes or seconds before it happens. It feels more like a time loop to her, with the confusion being much greater than the actual question lingering in her head of if she has become somewhat of a Supe.

One thing is for sure, she doesn't know how to stop it, despite having tried to. And though she can see what will happen, no one can change fate. Eventually, everyone dies, she thinks and yet... The moment she tries to save a dove from dying after living it for a second time, things become clearer. She can save people, but she can also be bound to the guilt of reaching them seconds too late, a roulette she is uneasy to accept, a destiny she feels is not her own. That's for the Seven, that's for Supes, not for her.

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ yapper, chris sturniolo

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis. in which chris is yapping away with his fingers in your mouth because you kept interrupting him.

warnings. gagging, suggestive but no smut.

authors note. this has been sitting in my drafts for quite some time, i completely forgot about this.

“there’s so much shit i need to do for my brand tomorrow, like-“ chris says but being cut off by your voice for the fifth time and he’s only been talking for ten minutes.

“oh my god. i’m so excited for you to release the new items, they’re all so cute.” you gush with excitement as you think about the baby tees and hoodies chris has designed.

“yeah. i think this will be the-“ chris attempts to talk but gets cut off by you, yet again.

“that baby pink baby tee? that looks like heaven. it’s so cute, i can’t wait to-.” you say, but quickly stop as you turn to chris and see the unamused look on his face.

“what’s the problem, baby?” you ask furrowing your brows.

“you. you’re the problem at the moment, actually.” he says with a smirk growing on his face as he trails his hand up your arm, holding his hand in place when it reaches your jaw, “you’ve interrupted me so many times.” he whispers, leaning his face closer to yours as he moves his ring and middle finger up to yours lips.

you and chris kept intense eye contact as he pushes his fingers into your mouth until the lay flat in the middle of your tongue.

his finger’s sit in your mouth for a moment before he pushes them the slightest bit further in. “i swear you never let me talk.” his icy blue eyes stay locked on yours as he moves his fingers just a little more.

when he finally stills his fingers in your mouth, you attempt to talk again, “i do, i let you talk all the time” you try to say but it comes out muffled.

“all the time?” chris repeats back with a scoff, his fingers moving ever so slightly in your mouth, clearly not believing you. he knows you don’t ever let him talk. he just loves any excuse to tease you.

“maybe not all the time, but most of the time” you say but when you do chris plunges his fingers to the back of your throat, causing you to gag on his fingers and tears fill your eyes. and when they do chris pulls his fingers back to sit on your tongue, “now let me talk” he says.

his fingers sit with a little more pressure on your tongue as he waits for you to nod in agreement, watching the tears form in your eyes as you try to recover from the gag. he knows you’ll agree, you always agree.

you slowly nod your head. chris smirks then continues talking, “now you’re finally letting me get a word in. so yeah, the new drop is in about two weeks so i have a bunch of shit i need to sort between now and then.”

his fingers sit still in your mouth as he talks, his other hand that’s around your waist moving up and down your side gently. while his fingers don’t move, they do apply more pressure as he talks, making it harder and harder for you to concentrate on what he’s saying.

chris has yapped and yapped for the past 15 minutes with no interruptions, due to obvious reasons.

you let out a hum as chris brings up something you really want to talk about, but he glares at you and pushes his fingers further down your throat, causing you to gag again.

he smirks as you gag around his fingers again, he’s got such power over you at the moment as he’s in full control. every time you moan, hum, or try to say something, he gags you again. he knows there’s something you want to ask, and he finds this whole situation way too amusing, “there something you want to say, baby?” he taunts with a sly smirk on his face.

he watches intently as you hum and moan around his fingers, his smirk never leaving his face. he loves how powerless you are right now. no matter how hard you try to talk, his fingers will always stop you, and it makes him so amused. he knows that there’s something you want to ask, and he’s fully enjoying taunting you.

“sorry baby, it’s my turn to talk. not yours. but you’ll get your chance later, just not now.” he says in a mocking tone. chris lets out a small chuckle as he watches you struggle. he knows how badly you want to ask him the question, but he’s loving this too much to give you the chance too. “you’re just gonna have to wait a while, baby. i still have more to say. don’t worry.”

he continues rambling on for another ten minutes. this time he only had to gag you twice, unlike last time he had to do it countless times. you really wanted to talk so you brung your hand up to chris’ hand that is in your mouth and attempt to pull it away from your mouth, which chris doesn’t like.

as soon as your hand comes up to his, he pulls it back and pushes his fingers even further in your mouth, his smirk growing as he watches you. he lets out a small huff, “no, princess, don’t try that. this is my turn to talk, not yours. you don’t listen. i have to remind you who’s in charge, don’t i?” he says in a mocking tone.

you look up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to let you talk.

chris looks down at you, seeing your pleading eyes and he feels his heart fluttering. every time you look at him like that, he just wants to give in and do anything for you. but not this time, though. no, no, no. right now he’s enjoying how much control he has, and he isn’t giving that up. “ah, princess, baby. stop looking at me like that. that’s not gonna work this time. i’m in charge right now.”

your body deflates when he says that. you really thought chris was going to let talk this time, but you were wrong.

chris notices your body deflates, seeing you give up. he lets out a soft chuckle; the whole situation was so amusing to him. he’s got you right where he wants you - at his mercy. he loves having power over you like this; it’s such a huge turn on for him. he can’t help but tease you a little bit more. “aww, princess. did you really think i was gonna let you talk? after all the times you’ve cut me off? that’s really cute.”

[florencemtrash]

Bedsides and Breakfasts

Summary: After Azriel comes home battered and bruised, he refuses to eat the meal you've made him... Why?

Warnings: Angst, character injury, fluff

Author's note: For context, Y/n is Helion's bastard daughter. In an earlier draft of my other (very long) fic, The Shadowsinger and The Inkbird, this was going to be a scene that takes place after Azriel gets hurt during the Battle on the Lake where Y/n figures out Azriel is her mate. I wanted to finish it up and get it out there because I don't want to say goodbye to that story just yet and I wanted to get back into writing so.... here ya go!

The Townhouse sang quietly as it worked. Its melodies lay in the shifting curtains that shook off dust into the wind. Its lyrics in the whistling teakettle. You liked these sounds as you moved about the kitchen, preparing your tea and a crust of bread slathered with butter and jam. 

When the Townhouse was empty, you didn’t need to fear your power — there was no one around for you to touch and steal memories from. Mor had tried to drag you out to Rita’s that evening — “Rhys says you’ve learned to keep your Clairvoyance at bay! Come dancing with us!” — but you couldn’t muster the courage or the energy.

Besides, you were awaiting a certain Shadowsinger’s arrival. 

“Won’t you come back and make me your home? You who’ve stolen my heart as simple as a whisper, calm as a storm,” You hummed to yourself. You swore the Townhouse sighed in contentment. “Do you like my silly little songs then?” You mused. 

The lights shone a little brighter, crackling the air with a flicker of energy. 

You were singing about Azriel — of course you were — and blushing all the while. He’d been the first to truly speak to you — the first to notice you — and the embrace you’d shared in Rhysand’s office had left you breathless for days. You could still feel the ghost of his breath against your neck as you’d buried your face in the hollow of his throat. The cracked leather beneath your fingers and the short hairs at the base of his skull you’d caressed as lovingly as any flower. It was the first time you’d ever been touched like that. Like you were something worth holding onto. 

When he was gone, the Townhouse felt too empty. You felt too empty. Even now, the edges of your patience frayed like a worn shirt without him. 

You spent the evening’s hours combing through every book you’d managed to lug over from the Library. It was quick, but taxing work as every touch against the weathered binding allowed you to absorb its knowledge without you ever having to lay an eye on the page. 

When the candle flickered dangerously close to your books and the dull throbbing behind your eyes had gone on for too long, you blew out the light and could do no more than curl up on the sofa before falling fast asleep. 

The whispers of shadows woke you. You couldn’t understand the words hidden within their overlapping voices, but their panic and relief were heavy in the air. You could almost taste their meaning on your tongue.

“Y/n,” Azriel moaned. He leaned heavily against the open door, forcing it open against the drag of the carpet. His sword clattered to the ground before his knees. “Y/n,” he called out again, more urgently this time. He prayed to the gods you were home. He’d flown through the night, tattered wings struggling to keep him aloft, to make sure he’d see you again… just in case.

Blood and iron burned your nose and your sleep-swollen eyelids split open. “Az—” Your knee slammed against the coffee table in your struggle to escape the blankets. “AZ!” 

Azriel was always greedy for the sight of you, and that familiar tug in his chest tightened as you rounded the corner and sprinted towards him. You tripped where the hardwood ended and the carpet began, throwing his arm around your shoulder. 

He smiled softly at you. Three months ago, you’d been too afraid to touch anyone. Now here you were half-supporting his weight as he staggered to his feet. He stole a few precious seconds to lean his head into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent. For a moment, he believed it would be enough to heal him.

“How bad is it?” 

“Three arrows in the right wing, two in the left. Fae bane.” 

“Anywhere else?” You both stumbled down the hallway back from where you’d come. 

“I may have been stabbed a few times.” He offered the piece of information casually, like he was complaining about the price of eggs.

“What’s a few?” Your eyes were wide as the moon. Searching, searching, searching for wounds.

“Ten?” 

Your growl tore through the quiet of the night. 

Your hands were slippery with blood, and Azriel almost slid out of your fingertips as you deposited him against the table. You flung your arms out over the hardwood tabletop sending bottles of ink, pens, and sheafs of papers clattering to the floor before rolling Azriel onto the top and forcing him to lay down.

Under the chandelier, Azriel looked ghastly. The warmth was drained from his skin and the hollows of his eyes and the fullness of his lips were tinged purple from cold. His eyes drifted apart from one another.

“I need you to stay awake.” 

“I will.” His words were slippery as soap on porcelain, syllables sliding into one another as he promised you he would be alright and that he had suffered worse before.  

“Stay awake!” You commanded him and his eyes sharpened ever so slightly on your figure as you tore through the cabinets in the corner. 

Where is it? Where is it? Glass bottles clinked and tottered on rounded bottoms. There! 

You snatched one of the pale green bottles lining the back wall and bit off the cork top with a grimace, spitting it out onto the floor. You could taste the medicine inside coat your teeth with an acrid film. 

“Hey, hey, hey.” You slapped Azriel’s cheeks to keep him awake. “Drink this.” 

Azriel’s lips parted immediately and he accepted every bitter drop you forced down his throat. It wasn’t a cure, but it would help stabilize him long enough for help to arrive. In the time it took for you to call out to Rhys and light the candle that would wake Madja and call her to the Townhouse, Azriel’s cheeks had flushed with some more color. 

The sight did little to ease your worries as you worked on unbuckling the straps of his armor. Piece by piece they fell away with a wet thud on the ground. 

He grabbed your wrist before you could run in search of something to cut off the clothes clinging to him like a second skin. Elain had left gardening shears on the back porch. Perhaps the kitchen had scissors?

“Stay.” He begged. “Please stay.”

“Rhys and Madja will be here soon. I just need to get something to help you.” 

“Then stay.” His grip turned desperate, short nails digging into your forearm. “Stay and help me. Don’t leave me.” 

Azriel might have smiled if he wasn’t in so much pain. His hand slid up the curve of your arm to hold your neck, thumb tracing the line of your jaw. 

“I wanted to see you just in case.” His chest rattled with the effort, “Gods, I missed you.” 

He’d been gone weeks on the Continent, scrounging after every whisper of Koschei’s name as far as the eastern mountains. He’d scavenged and raged. Killed and tortured. And he’d missed you all the while. It was what had possessed him to fly all the way to Velaris, when he would have been better off breaking into the Day Court and throwing himself at the mercy of Helion — your father. 

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, angry and hot. “If you say another fucking word like you’re about to die, I will kill you myself.” You were not prone to violence, and Azriel felt some pride that he could elicit such an emotion from you. 

Luckily for you both, Azriel didn’t get a chance to say anything else, and you didn’t get a chance to murder him before Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian, and Madja were bursting through the front door and following the blood-red trail to the dining room. 

Azriel squeezed your hand once more. “Stay with me.”

“Where else would I go, Az?” You whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the palm of his hand before the others crowded close. 

You stayed at the head of the table, one hand always holding onto Azriel’s. He swallowed his pain, the faintest groans slipping from his lips as arrows were pulled out inch by bloody inch. It was no easy thing to endure, not even for Azriel. Wicked barbs lined the arrow shaft and caught onto the delicate membrane of his wings no matter how Madja twisted, pushed, and pulled. 

One particularly harsh wrench had Azriel crying out, his nails digging into your arm and drawing blood. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, feeling your skin break beneath his nails. His skin was tinged green now. A sickly sheen covered his face and fell over his eyes. 

“It’s ok. It’s ok. Just look at me.” You grasped the sides of his face. “Look at me.” 

Once again, Azriel was ready to listen to your commands. His eyes never left yours, not once, until the last of the faebane-tipped arrows dropped onto the table with a menacing ring of metal on wood.

Feyre closed his wounds as best she could, but the flesh inside would take longer to heal. For now all they could do was carefully wipe the blood from his body and carry him up to his bedroom. 

You lingered by Azriel’s side long after he fell asleep, fingers twitching with nerves as you counted every slow and steady breath of his. 

“Y/n.” Feyre gently touched your arm. “He’ll be alright.”

You nodded, still watching Azriel sleep. Then, to your mortification, you burst into tears. Your clothes were drying stiff with sweat and blood — none of it yours — and the red handprints Azriel had left along your arms were turning to copper rust. 

She shushed you, softly tugging at your arms. 

“He-He asked me to stay,” you said between gulps of air. 

“He’d want you to be clean and well-rested, Y/n. Don’t let him wake up feeling guilty.” 

If it weren’t for Feyre, you would have remained glued to the floor of Azriel’s room until you became one of the faces trapped in the wooden floors. You let her lead you across the hall to your own room where she filled the tub with warm water and soap. 

“Shit,” you mumbled. Your fingers shook so much you couldn’t undo the buttons of your dress. Shadows, loose and long as stalks of grass, wound around your back, plucking the buttons undone without a word. 

“He’ll be alright.” Feyre repeated this phrase many times as you scrubbed off the night’s events and turned the water copper brown. The magic of the Townhouse whisked away the grime almost as quickly as it appeared until you sat in a sudsy bath, milky and clean.

“What happened to him, Fey?”

“From what Rhys and I can tell, Koschei had over a dozen archers lying in wait for when he returned to Prythian. We’ve already warned Helion.” 

You nodded. Your head felt heavy on your neck, like a doll with a snapped neck. 

“He nearly died.” Once the words were out in the open, fragile and pure, you broke down again, knees drawn up to your chest in the tub. 

“But he didn’t.” Feyre smoothed back your dripping hair. “It will take more than arrows and faebane for Death to steal him from us, Y/n.” 

Gods you hoped that was true, or else your heart might give out every time Azriel walked out the door. 

You returned to his side the moment you were clothed, hair still dripping onto his gray bed sheets as you leaned forward from your chair and held his hand. He slept on his stomach, wings flared out and peppered with white gauze like a patchwork quilt. Beneath the drape of his blankets you knew more gauze covered his chest and stomach, dotted with blood like blooming roses. 

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, but you awoke to a deep ache in your back and a faint choir of voices in the air. 

Shadows. 

They kissed your cheeks, cool and soft, urging your eyelids open. Azriel was already awake and sitting up in bed with a grimace. One hand clutched his side and a leg hung over the edge of the bed, like he intended to stand. When he saw you, his hazel eyes widened. First in alarm. Then in guilt. 

“Az?” Your voice felt crusted with smoke and sleep and you did what you could to straighten the crook in your neck and your spine from the odd position you’d fallen asleep in. ““You’re not supposed to be sitting up.” Your bones cracked obnoxiously as you moved for the first time in hours, and the guilt in his gaze deepened. 

You pressed lightly against his chest, feeling the gauze scratch your skin, but he did not budge. 

“Az, you need to lay down. What were you even doing up?” 

Azriel’s eyes flickered off to the side. “I was… I was trying to move you to the bed.” 

You swallowed your yawn and blinked in disbelief. “Azriel, you’ve just been shot and stabbed. You need to lay back down.” 

He grabbed your wrists, tugging you forward until you almost collapsed against his chest. “There’s space on the bed. I want you to be comfortable.” 

“The chair is fine, and you are hurt. Now, please—” He did not move. No matter how you reasoned with him. No matter how you tried to shove him back beneath the covers.

“I will lay back down under one condition.” 

You frowned. He was much more stubborn when he was injured. “What condition?” 

“Sleep on the bed. There’s plenty of room.” 

“Az—” 

“Please.” His hands slipped into yours, fingers pressing against the pulse of your wrists. “Y/n, I will be comforted with you beside me.” He held up his finger before you could sleep. “And not in that gods-awful chair. You’ll wake up crooked.”

“I’m not a stalk in a storm,” you grumbled, because it only seemed appropriate that you should fight him on this. Otherwise, you’d have to admit that the thought of melting into his bed set off fireworks in your stomach, exciting and terrifying at the same time. You’d also have to admit the scent of mountain air embedded in every inch of his room brought you comfort. You could lay your head on his pillows and sleep for an eternity. 

I shouldn’t be here. But you let him tug you closer to him. You slid your legs over his waist, calves catching on the waistband of his pants and dragging in a way that had your heart leaping into your stomach until you were safely on the other side of him. 

Azriel’s bed was massive — over 12 feet across to better accommodate the span of his wings. You moved as far away from him as you could without eliciting offense and stared at the window. 

Your muscles clenched as he shifted closer to you, wings rustling against the silk sheets and whispering as he got comfortable. Every time he so much as shifted, your back prickled, as though you had eyes there that shifted to soak up every inch of him. 

He’s hurt and I’m taking up space and—

He reached out his arm and his fingertips brushed against the curve of your back. You stiffened like you’d been struck by lightning. If Azriel were awake, he would have apologized and wrenched back his hand as if burned. But he was fast asleep and the touch was a natural movement he made in his dreams where he was imagining that you were closer to him. So close that he could breathe down your neck and feel you melt beneath his touch. 

You didn’t sleep, as much as the lull of his breathing threatened to sink you into sweet and comforting dreams. The sky was but a lighter shade of black when you were slipping out of bed with barely a whisper. Miraculously, Azriel did not awaken, and his shadows ghosted over the floors drowsily.

You were no stranger to dawn as you padded down to the kitchens. You hummed to yourself, cracking eggs over a well-greased skillet with onions, tomatoes, and peppers tossed in. They bobbed up and down in a sea of yellow like ducks on water. Potatoes browned to your right, their skins crackling and spitting grease as bacon popped and sizzled beside them. 

You ate as you went, plating the final meal for Azriel, who—if you knew anything about him—would be waking shortly after the first rays of sunlight split his shadows in two. 

You slipped back into his room as quietly as you’d left, and then nearly leapt out of your skin to find a dark mass of shadow covering the bed. 

“You’re awake,” you said blankly. 

Azriel propped himself up onto his elbows, back rippling as he forced his stiff and swollen wounds to stretch until he could sit up in bed. 

“Where did you go?” There was but a faint slur to his words. “You weren’t here when I woke up.” 

“I was making breakfast.” You dragged over the ottoman from the foot of his bed as a makeshift table. “Did you brush your teeth already?” Not that it mattered. A sour mouth wouldn’t keep him from a meal if he was hungry. 

The flash of fear in his eyes was so subtle, so brief, that you missed it. 

“I’m not hungry.” 

“Well that doesn’t really matter. Madja said you should eat first thing. Oh!” You plucked a purple glass bottle from his bedside table. “And she said to drink this with a meal.” You pushed it into his hands, reluctant as they were to take the stoppered bottle from you. 

“I can’t imagine eating right now.” He said, shaking his head. His cheeks puffed out and he swallowed hard. “The smell… it’s… I can’t stomach it.” 

You frowned at that. He liked your cooking. It was only due to circumstance that you hadn’t been able to cook for him in months. 

“Can you please try?” you begged. “Just a bite.”

His skin turned pallid and the dark marks beneath his eyes stood out. He picked up a fork with a trembling hand, stuck it into a potato, then dropped it as if it burned. Suddenly, he regretted asking you to stay the night. Guilt ate away at his stomach, twisting it like spaghetti on a fork. 

You sighed in dejection. “I’ll bring it back downstairs.” You said. You began collecting the silverware from where you’d left them by his side. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his hand. 

You smiled softly. “Try and get some rest.” 

“Will you be back?” His words caught you by the door. 

“You won’t even realize I was gone.” 

He doubted that very much. Still, he settled back in bed, rolling onto his stomach to keep its rumbling at bay. He was quite hungry. 

You closed the door behind you, carrying the untouched plate of eggs and potatoes. Cassian stopped his whistling as he made his way down the hall, a teasing smile playing at his lips until he caught sight of your dejected expression. 

“What’s got our resident Librarian frowning? Did someone misplace a book in the House?” 

You didn’t rise to Cassian’s jests. You cast a sullen glance back at Azriel’s door like it was personally responsible for everything, and shrugged. “He hasn’t eaten since he’s been back and I’m starting to get worried. I read up on Illyrian anatomy weeks ago and he should be fine enough to eat by now.” 

Cassian leaned down, taking a careful sniff of the plate before grabbing hold of a butter and rosemary roasted potato and plucking it in his mouth. It was cold and the butter had hardened into a greasy slick, but it was still good. He told you as much as he walked with you back to the kitchens, stealing slivers of potato as he went.

“It’s nice to know my cooking’s not at fault.” 

Cassian jerked back in surprise and sudden understanding. “You made him that?”

“Yes. I know the House has its own will, but I like to cook. And it still feels strange having food just appear out of nowhere.”  

Cassian fought with all his might to keep the cheeky grin from his face. 

Poor Azriel, forced to go hungry because he was still too much of a sheepish fool to tell you about the mating bond let alone accept it. 

He clicked his tongue. He loved his brother to the grave and back, but Azriel had a horrible habit of getting trapped in his own mind. Cassian had hoped you would help with that, given you suffered similarly. 

“I wouldn’t take it too personally. Azriel’s a picky eater. Always has been.”

That was a complete and utter lie. Growing up in the Illyrian war camps meant you either starved or ate whatever gray-brown mush you could get your hands on. Rhysand and Azriel had been quicker to move on from the rugged Illyrian lifestyle, and Rhysand especially had used his High Lord privileges to cultivate a refined and expensive taste, but if they were hungry and limited they didn’t give two shits what went in their mouths. 

“I didn’t realize you could afford to be picky in a war camp,” You grumbled. You dropped the plate’s contents onto a skillet, patiently waiting for the House to light a toasty fire. There was no need to let good food go to waste.   

You thought over it, some minor irritation settling in that the Shadowinger had rejected the food you’d worked to make. It really didn’t make sense that Azriel would be so particular about food. Or anything for that matter. He’d always struck you as the practical, bare-bones sort, and you knew him well enough now to know that was true. His very job required it of him. But then again you couldn’t remember the last time he’d accepted any food that you’d offer-

You froze. Oh. Oh.

The first night he’d visited your apartment in the Day Court, he’d refused your tea and cakes before leaving abruptly. You’d agonized over that night for months, trying to figure out what you might have done to scare him off. But he’d been so kind and shy afterwards and then the whole matter of Koschei had arose and you’d never given it much thought because he just seemed so familiar and... Oh. OH-

“BASTARD!” You spat out in shock. The skillet dropped to the stove with a sharp cry that had Cassian blinking. He’d never seen you like this. So…agitated.

Had you always been this dull? A year ago you might have been able to blame it on your naïveté, but you weren’t so socially misinformed now and yet this was a bit much. And… oh you couldn’t wrap your head around your own stupidity to even begin to think about a mating bond with…

A mating bond with Azriel. You… you were his mate. He was yours. And you were his. And suddenly the pieces of it were falling into place so quickly you thought you might be crushed beneath the weight. 

Mate.

Even the thought of the word crashed around your mind incessantly, like an anxious dog trying to settle down to sleep. Yet it all made such perfect sense. The way Azriel always found you when you were in danger or grieving. The awful days when Azriel had been away and you’d felt like a piece of your body had been severed. The way that the world felt right when he was beside you. Maybe it was the bond, maybe it was just something born out of love, or maybe they were one and the same. It was impossible to tell but it didn’t change anything.

Mate.

Cassian glanced sideways at you and said cautiously, “We’re both bastards, Y/n. I don’t think that’s much of an insult coming from your mouth.”

Your eyes snapped to his, suddenly remembering that he was in the kitchen with you. You brandished a fork in your hand like a weapon, pointing the pronged end up at him like he was a piece of meat to be skewered. You were shorter than him, but the sharpness in your eyes made him pause.

“You.” Such a simple word, yet it sounded so threatening. “You knew didn’t you?”

Was he sweating? The room felt warm.

“I don’t know what-“ You snatched his wrist and with your magic, you stole the information from him that you needed. It was as easy as plucking a flower from a field. 

Fuck. Cassian groaned at the same time you did. You knew now. Not that you really needed confirmation from Cassian. Still. It was rather embarrassing to learn you were the last of… well everyone to know, even if it was your fault for not noticing the signs. In your defense you had been preoccupied with other matters…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” You muttered, heating up the remaining food with a great deal of force before setting down a fresh tray, plate, utensils, and mug of tea on the countertop.

You keep muttering to yourself, your joy disguised by your embarrassment and no small amount of shock. Cassian watched nervously as you prepped the plate. 

You’d no sooner growled, “Move,” before Cassian leapt to the side and you set off out the door and down the hallway back to Azriel’s room.

She knows. One shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel felt his heart skyrocket and his stomach plunge to the cradle of his hip bones. 

She seems… upset.

Upset was a mild word. You were alight with every emotion possible — fury, fear, anxiety, excitement, love — and Azriel struggled to tease them apart. It was like he’d been hit in the chest by a tangle of snakes, each a writhing, living, ever-changing thing. One moment you seemed nervous, the next angry. 

“You.” Your knuckles were pale as they gripped the tray. Sunlight molded to your form like a crown, and it became all the more apparent that you were Helion’s daughter — his bastard daughter, but daughter nevertheless. 

He scrambled into a seated position just in time for you to drop the tray in his lap with a clatter that sent fork and knife skittering over the dish.

You looked down at the tray, then up at his eyes, wide and molten as amber. “You didn’t tell me.” You didn’t need to elaborate any further. 

“I didn’t think—”

“You’re right. You didn’t.” You blinked, suddenly shy. “Did I not make it clear enough that I liked you? That I loved—love you? Or perhaps you don’t… perhaps you don’t want me.” That was a possibility you hadn’t thought of in your excitement to see him again. 

Oh gods, you hadn’t thought of that possibility had you? You’d just aggressively thrown food at him, expecting that he would—

Azriel gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him again. Your cheeks were warm and painted with color. 

“I always worried I was reading into actions that meant nothing to you. But, never think for a moment that I don’t want you.” He smiled then, a shy, secret smile reserved for you. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” 

Now your cheeks were burning, but Azriel did not mind feeling this kind of heat on his hands. He let go of your chin, twirling a fork with his fingers like it was a knife. It was one of his few nervous ticks whose knowledge was reserved for the people he trusted. For the people he loved. 

“Being with me will put you in more danger than you know.” 

“But I expect it will bring me more happiness than I could have ever imagined.” You raised a hand up to his face, twisting away a stubborn curl of hair that fell over his forehead. “And you forget who my father is,” you reminded him. “Maybe it is I who will put you in danger.” 

“Maybe,” Azriel whispered. His breath fanned over your cheeks, soft and sweet. 

You picked up the fork, lifting it up in between you. 

“Eat.” You commanded him. 

Azriel smiled, plucking it from your fingers and stabbing a potato. He sighed. “I never could deny you anything, and I would never want to,” he said, before chewing carefully. Cautiously. 

You blinked in surprise, instinctively taking a step away when you felt something new and warm begin to burn in your chest, like someone had taken a drop of the molten hazel in Azriel’s eyes and dropped it into your heart. 

“Oh.” You breathed. 

“Yes,” Azriel murmured, “An unusual feeling, I know.” He placed the tray beside him and he’d no sooner opened his arms before you’d buried your face in the crook of his neck. You wanted more of that warmth in your chest. You wanted to slip into Azriel's skin as close as possible to his beating heart. To feel the mating bond wrap around you both like a curtain to block out the rest of the world. 

Azriel groaned in pain, but would not let you leave his embrace. No pain had ever been worth so much. 

You forced him to finish eating, even though all he wanted was the taste of you on his lips. “Later,” you promised him. When he was healed and whole there would be more breathless kisses and urgent touches, but for now he had to content himself with eating his meal and drinking his draught. But he would not be denied the press of your skin against his as you slipped beneath the covers and curled up beside him. This time, you fell asleep quickly and your dreams came over you like water. 

[readsaboutreid]

Cast Your Bets | S.R.

summary: (Y/N) has been at the BAU for two months now and the tension between her and Spencer has been noticeable to everyone but them. The team takes bets on when they'll finally snap but (Y/N) and Spencer over hear them and some smutty shenanigans ensue.

This is smut so it's 18+, minors please dni.

spencer x bau!reader

contains: unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), fingering (f receiving), non-established relationship

this has been sitting in my drafts for few months so i figured i'd finally let it see the light of day

The team were all sat on the jet after a long case, everyone off in their own little worlds. Morgan had his headphones on and had nodded off, JJ and Prentiss were playing cards, and Hotchner and Rossi were talking about the case they had just finished in hushed tones. Spencer had run out of reading material so he was just kind of sitting and staring off into space. His eyes fell to (Y/N), her brows furrowed in concentration as she read what looked to be a well-worn book, and he couldn't help the way his heart fluttered in his chest.

Ever since she had started at the BAU, Spencer had been hopelessly infatuated with her. She was intelligent, sweet, and most surprisingly she seemed to enjoy when Spencer would go off rambling about something that would usually leave Morgan rolling his eyes or Prentiss poking him and asking, "how did they make you so lifelike?" But when he was talking with (Y/N) and he would start off on a subject, she would just tilt her head and listen with a soft smile, occasionally chiming in with a question or comment, making it more than clear she was listening to every word.

She locked eyes with him and flashed him the sweetest smile and he felt his cheeks burn with a sudden heat. "Something interesting, Reid?" She chuckled, closing the book she had been reading and setting it on her lap as she turned to face him.

"I—I was just trying to see what you're reading," he lied, unconvincingly. He swallowed nervously and a small smile twitched at his lips at seeing her smile grow even wider before he looked down at his hands resting in his lap.

She held the book up for him to see the cover. Dune.

"Dune? That's one of my favorites!" He exclaimed with a wide smile.

"When I was a little girl this was one of my favorites. My dad would read it to me before bedtime," she explained before opening it back up to begin reading again. "I read it once a year the month of his birthday."

Spencer felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of confidence and decided to take advantage of it. "Hey, uh, I finished the only book I had brought with me earlier, do you mind if I read along with you, maybe? I could just read over your shoulder or something." He bit his lip as he waited for her to shoot him down, the confidence he felt already fading away rapidly.

"Oh! I, uh, o-okay," she responded while her eyes widened a little bit in response to the request. She moved closer to him on the bench they were both seated on. He adjusted the way he was sitting so that she could lean up against him and he found himself silently hoping she couldn't hear how fast and hard his heart was beating against his chest. She opened the book, holding it up high enough for Spencer to be able to read as well and they began reading. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her, the butterflies in his stomach flying around more frantically each time he did so.

His body was in overdrive and he did everything in his power to maintain his composure. He could smell the scent of eucalyptus and lavender on her hair as she leaned up against him and he started thinking about how nice it would be to be able to run his fingers through it while her lips were wrapped around his—

Spencer shook his head, dispelling the thoughts before they had a chance to take root. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs to cover up the fact that he was becoming rather noticeably hard. (Y/N) shifted a bit, leaning further into Spencer's chest and resting her head there gently. His breath hitched in his throat before he relaxed into her, resting his arm around her shoulders and his cheek against the top of her head.

They continued reading until Spencer noticed that she hadn't turned the page in quite a while. When he looked down at her he noticed that she was sleeping quite soundly against him. He tried his best to maneuver without waking her, placing her bookmark in between the pages and closing the book. There was no way Spencer himself would be able to get any sleep right now, but Spencer tried to relax enough to at least be a comfortable human pillow. Wrapping his other arm around her, he eventually found himself getting lost in the scent of her shampoo yet again as his eyes grew heavy.

Next thing he knew, he was waking up to Morgan lightly shaking his shoulder. "Come on lover boy! It's time to wake up. We're about to land," he said in a voice loud enough to also rouse the still-sleeping (Y/N).

She shot up suddenly, her face turning a deep shade of crimson as she stammered out a flustered apology and swiftly rushed off to the bathroom, leaving Spencer to glare daggers at Derek from his seat on the now otherwise empty bench.

Later that night, Spencer found himself at home, sprawled on the couch with the familiar blue glow of the television screen illuminating the room. The soft hum of the TARDIS filled the air as he half-heartedly tried to focus on the episode of Doctor Who playing before him. But try as he might, his mind kept drifting back to (Y/N).

Her scent still lingered on his clothes, a sweet and intoxicating blend that teased his senses. Images of her leaning against him, of her hair brushing against his skin, invaded his thoughts. His body reacted to these memories, stirring with a desire that he couldn't ignore.

As the scene on the TV faded into the background, Spencer's hand began to stray lower, fingers tracing the outline of his growing arousal through his pants. He closed his eyes, letting himself fully indulge in the fantasy of (Y/N) that had taken hold of his mind.

Her soft lips against his skin, his hands exploring her body with a gentle curiosity...

Spencer reached his hand into his pajama pants, pulling out his throbbing member and wrapping his fingers around himself, slowly beginning to stroke up and down. His breathing grew shallow as his hand moved more purposefully, seeking release from the building tension within him. Lost in a haze of desire and yearning, Spencer's thoughts were consumed by the memory of her touch, her scent, her warmth as she leaned up against him. With a quiet gasp, he abandoned himself to the fantasy, his movements growing urgent as he chased the climax that beckoned to him.

The fantasies of (Y/N) moaning and writhing beneath him in pleasure became more vivid, more alluring, fueling the fire that consumed him. Every fleeting touch, every whispered word in his mind pushed him closer to the edge until finally, with a shuddering breath and a silent cry of her name on his lips, Spencer found release in the solitude of his living room. The waves of pleasure washed over him, leaving him spent and breathless, his heart pounding in his chest.

As reality slowly seeped back in, Spencer lay there in the dim glow of the TV screen, a flush of both satisfaction and guilt coloring his cheeks. He wondered how he would ever be able to look (Y/N) in the eye again, but at the same time he couldn't help but long to see her still.

With a deep sigh, Spencer finally shut off the TV, cleaned himself up, and headed to bed, his mind filled with a mixture of longing and remorse.

The atmosphere in the bullpen was buzzing with it's usual energy. Spencer and (Y/N) were hunched over their desks, papers scattered everywhere as they focused intently on their work.

Meanwhile, across the room, Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Penelope Garcia, and JJ were observing the pair with playful banter and knowing looks. Their whispers floated through the air like mischievous spirits.

"Hey, JJ, how long do you think it'll be until these two finally give in to their sexual tension?" Derek asked with a cocky smirk.

JJ shrugged. "I'll give it two weeks."

Derek scoffed in response and said, "I say a week tops."

Penelope interjected, "oh please! I give it three days."

"You're all ridiculous" Emily shook her head and laughed, "I bet it'll take 24 hours, tops."

Spencer could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he overheard the playful bets being made about him and (Y/N). His heart raced at the mere thought of what could transpire between them, a mixture of excitement and nervousness swirling within him like a storm.

As they both reached for the same file folder, their fingers brushed against each other's in a fleeting moment that sent a jolt of electricity through Spencer. His hand trembled slightly at the contact, his skin tingling with a sensation he couldn't quite describe. But he couldn't deny the rush of warmth that flooded his veins at the simple touch.

(Y/N) quickly withdrew her hand, her eyes widening in surprise as she glanced up at Spencer. Her cheeks were painted with a delicate pink blush that mirrored Spencer's own, a silent acknowledgment passing between them in that moment.

Emily raised an eyebrow as they all observed the exchange between Spencer and (Y/N). "I told you all—24 hours, no more, no less.”

Agent Hotchner's lowered voice came from behind the group, startling everyone at the table. "Less than 12 hours," he stated calmly, his eyes piercing as they turned towards Spencer and (Y/N). The sudden silence that followed his words was almost palpable, the tension thick in the air as his prediction hung over them like a heavy cloud.

As the others in the room exchanged surprised glances, Derek let out a low whistle. "Hotch, you sure about that?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips.

Hotch simply nodded, his expression unreadable as he turned away and walked out of the bullpen, leaving the rest of the table floored as they looked back at Spencer and (Y/N).

The gentle hum of the bullpen around them seemed to fade away as Spencer found himself lost in a daydream, imagining a world where he and (Y/N) were more than just colleagues. His heart quickened at the thought of what could be, but just as quickly, the shadow of doubt crept in.

What if she didn't feel the same way? What if their friendship was forever altered by a moment of vulnerability and desire? Spencer's mind swirled with conflicting emotions—longing mingled with fear, desire intertwined with doubt.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice (Y/N) shooting him a quick smile before returning to her work. The warmth of that smile lingered in the air around Spencer, filling him with a sense of hope and a tinge of uncertainty. Was it just a friendly gesture, or did it hold a deeper meaning that he desperately wanted to believe in?

As the day drew to a close and everyone began packing up, Spencer finally spoke up. "Hey, (Y/N)," Spencer nervously fiddled with the strap of his bag, "would, uh, w-would you want to come over and watch Star Trek tonight? We could get some takeout, you know, like we always do the weekend after a case?" She looked up at him with a warm smile that made the butterflies in his stomach flare up and nodded happily.

As they walked out of the office together, Spencer couldn't help the sweat that began coating his palms in a thin layer. He gripped the leather strap of his bag and fiddled with it to give his hands something to do. The elevator took them down to the parking garage and they approached her car. Spencer rushed to open the driver's side door for her, drawing a soft, melodious giggle from her lips that made him go weak at the knees.

He made his way to the passenger side and slipped into the seat, buckling the seatbelt and swallowing the lump in his throat. She pulled out of the parking space and they began the short journey to his apartment. On her car radio a CD started playing, and a man with a soft and pleasant voice was singing to them about a woman with a green plastic watering can and a fake Chinese rubber plant. (Y/N) hummed along to the song and Spencer looked at her from the passenger seat, and as he did so his mind ventured back to the conversation he over heard between their colleagues earlier today.

"Spencer? Why are you staring at me?" She asked with a small smile, snapping him out of his thoughts and back into reality. His cheeks burned as he silently berated himself, not realizing how long he had been looking over at her. A whole new song was playing on the radio now, the same man now singing about how he used to fly like Peter Pan.

"S-sorry, I, uh, I just, uh—hey, wh-what did you wanna order tonight?" He clumsily attempted to change the subject, looking down at his hands as he wrung them together in his lap.

"Oooh!" (Y/N) exclaimed, always excited to talk about food. "There's a new pizza place across the street from your building that I noticed the last time I came over, what if we ordered from them?"

Spencer closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, relief washing over him. "That sounds like a fantastic idea," he smiled and shot another glance her way, this time immediately looking back at his hands.

(Y/N) parked the car on the curb in front of Spencer's building and turned off the engine. They stepped out into the cool evening air and walked across the street, entering the pizza shop. The inside of the shop was small, just a handful of tables. The walls were painted a pale shade of yellow and plastered with vintage Italian film posters. The air smelled of tomato sauce and pesto, and as they approached the counter a middle aged woman with a red apron over her blue dress pushed through the door in the wall behind it, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Welcome! Table for two?" She asked, looking between (Y/N) and Spencer.

"Can we actually just order something for takeout?" Spencer asked, looking at the menu above her head.

"Of course! What can I get for the handsome couple?" She smiled, her brown eyes crinkling on the side.

Spencer blinked. "Oh, uh, w-we, uh, we're not—," Spencer stammered, his eyes widening as his cheeks flushed. "Um, can we get a, uh, a large pepperoni pizza?" He shifted gears, remembering her once mentioning to Garcia that pepperoni was her favorite pizza topping.

"Did you want a two liter bottle of cola? It would only be an extra $1.25," the lady chuckled, entering everything into the register.

"S-sure," he responded, pulling out his wallet.

"Alrighty! That will be $9.25," Spencer handed over a $20 and the lady opened the register drawer and handed him his change. "Please, feel free to have a seat while the two of you wait." She gestured over at the tables, which were all empty save for one, which was occupied by a single woman with a large slice of pizza on her table doing a crossword puzzle, before walking back through the door behind her.

"After you," he turned to (Y/N), following her to a table by the window. He pulled the chair out for her, earning another one of her beautiful giggles that made his legs go wobbly.

"Always such a gentleman," she smiled up at him as he made his way to the other side of the table and sat down. They waited for around 10 minutes and chatted about random topics, flowing from one to the next. The same lady from before approached the table with a white pizza box and plastic bag with the large bottle of soda and little packets of crushed red peppers and parmesan.

"Here you go, one large pepperoni pizza!" She placed the box and the bag on the table and wished them a good evening before heading back through the same door behind the counter.

The pair headed out of the shop and crossed the street, entering the door to Spencer's apartment building. Spencer carried the pizza box and soda while trailing behind (Y/N), struggling to keep his gaze off of her behind as he followed her up the stairs. As they approached his door, he fumbled trying to get his keys out of his pocket and ended up dropping them on the ground.

(Y/N) immediately reacted, bending down to grab the keys as soon as they hit the ground with a good natured laugh. "Need some help, Spencer?" She teased while grinning up at him.

"Yes, please," he laughed in return, shooting her a sheepish grin of his own. She unlocked the door to his apartment and opened the door, allowing him to slip in first and place the pizza and soda down on his small table. She followed and closed the door behind her.

"So I know I had agreed to come over to watch Star Trek, but what would you say to watching a little Doctor who?" She turned to him, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "It's been a while since I've sat down and watched that and I kind of miss it."

"We can watch anything you'd like!" Spencer responded while heading to the kitchen to grab a couple of plates and glasses. He brought them back out and offered one of each to (Y/N). They each helped themselves to a slice of pizza and poured their drinks before heading over to his couch. He grabbed the remote and put on Doctor Who.

They ate their pizza and watched Doctor Who on his couch, each of them getting up for another slice at least once. Spencer stole the occasional glance at her as they ate and watched, and once they both finished he took their plates to the sink and washed them off before quickly returning. As he sat back down, (Y/N) scooted closer to him slowly before gently leaning up against him and softly asking, "i-is this okay?"

Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he managed to croak out a quiet, "y-yeah, it's okay." He lifted his arm and tentatively placed it around her shoulders while she moved in closer, leaning into his chest and resting her head against it like she had on the plane as they read together. This time he was sure she had to hear the way his heart was racing, but fortunately she said nothing. They continued to watch in silence as the tension between the two of them grew nearly palpable.

Eventually, once Spencer found himself wondering if she had yet again fallen asleep, (Y/N) broke the silence with a question. "So did you hear the team talking about us earlier today?"

"No, uh, wh-what were they, um, talking about?" He lied, doing his best to maintain his composure.

"You are a very bad liar, Spencer," she chuckled, making his cheeks flush bright red as she sat up.

"Sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes before looking up at her. "Y-yeah, I overheard them. I'm sorry about them, I can try to talk to them about it and ask them to stop—"

"No, it's not that! It was actually fairly funny," she chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "But to be honest I'm kind of offended that they thought it would take me that long to seduce you." She joked, nudging Spencer in the ribs. "I mean, Emily said 'no more or less than 24 hours' but I'm fairly certain that if I really tried, and I mean really put my heart into it, I could get you into bed with me tonight." She laughed again but there was a hint of nervousness in it this time, shooting a look at him from where she sat as a faint pink blush began to spread over her cheeks. Apparently she hadn't heard Hotch's bet, but Spencer wasn't focusing on that. He was too busy focusing on the fact that he was sitting here listening to her speculate how long it would take for her to seduce him as if she hadn't been plaguing his dreams and fantasies since they met.

"Good point," he breathed to himself, hoping it was quiet enough that she wouldn't be able to hear over the TV. Unfortunately for him, he thought wrong. He yelped in surprise as she lunged over his lap, grabbed the remote, and hit the mute button, making the TV go silent.

"Oh, really?" She shot him a smile that was an equal mix of surprised and some other emotion Spencer hadn't seen on her face before. "So tell me, Spencer, what might I need to do to convince you to sleep with me?" Her voice was sultry and soft as she bit her lip and looked up at him, her face closer to his than it had been before.

"I-I, uh," Spencer cleared his throat and swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribcage. He had two options: try to lie his way out of this or just tell her how badly he'd like nothing more than to lay her down and take her right there on the couch. His palms grew slick again but he took a deep breath. He had already been called out for his poor lying skills once this evening, so there was no point in attempting the first option. Instead he simply opted to tell her the truth.

"Y-you wouldn't have to do anything more than just ask and I'd say yes." His voice was barely above a whisper and he finally looked up to meet her eyes before he added, "in a heartbeat."

Before he could fully register what was happening she had leaned in and pressed her lips to his softly. His eyes slowly closed as he kissed her back, shifting to turn so he was facing towards her with more of his body. His hands slid to her waist, wrapping around her and pulling her into him.

When they pulled away from each other he reached his hand up to cup her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. He opened his eyes to find her already looking at him before she softly said, "Spencer, would you like to—"

"Yes," he exhaled with a fervent nod, grabbing her face with his other hand and crashing his lips back against hers, her lips parting to allow his tongue into her mouth. She threw her arms around his neck and laid back, pulling Spencer down with her. They shifted their legs until Spencer's hips rested between her thighs, his cock stiffening rapidly in his pants.

Her hands tangled into his hair and he began gently grinding his hips against her. They both moaned into each other's mouths at the sensation and Spencer's movements became more insistent and needy. When they finally broke apart to catch their breath, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils were dilated. Spencer brushed some of her hair out of her face before he pressed his lips to her cheek, then began trailing kisses from her cheek to her chin, then to her neck. She moved her hands to the collar of her shirt and began undoing the buttons while Spencer rose up to remove his own layers.

Once he had removed his shirt he looked back down at her and the sight awaiting him stole the breath right from his lungs. She had removed her shirt and her bra in the time it took him to get his jacket, vest, and shirt off and her entire torso was on display to him. He brought a hand up to one of her breasts and cupped it in his hand, brushing his thumb over the nipple. He leaned back over her and began kissing her neck again, teasing and tormenting her nipple before moving his mouth to take over, his fingers going to the other one to tease while he suckled and ran his tongue over the first one.

Everything else faded into the background when he heard her moan at sensations, including the throbbing and aching need in his pants. All that he could focus on was drawing more of those sounds form her mouth. He let his teeth graze against her nipple and she gasped, tangling her fingers back into his hair. He let his teeth press gently onto the hardened nub again and the moan she released in response was beautiful enough for him to think that maybe he had died and gone to heaven.

He eventually moved his hand from her other nipple, switching it out for his mouth and giving the first one a break. He let his hand trail down her abdomen, stopping as he reached the waistline of her skirt. He looked up at her from her chest as he hooked his fingers into the waistband and began to gently tug. She lifted her hips and used her hands to push her skirt and panties down before Spencer slowly pushed her thighs back open.

His fingers slid up her inner thigh until he reached her dripping center. His breath hitched in his throat as he felt just how ready she was for him. She whimpered beneath him and he felt his cock twitch at the sound as he moaned against her nipple. He gently ran a fingertip from her entrance to her clit, circling around it slowly before running his finger back down the other way. He repeated the action a few times. As he continued he started slipping the tip of his finger into the entrance of her pussy before swiping up to the clit, and with each repetition his finger slipped deeper and deeper into her.

His head became hazy with lust as he kept going until his finger was fully embedded into her. When he slipped it out this time instead of swiping it up to her clit he instead added a second finger, slowly pushing them both into her and pulling them back out. She arched her back up into his mouth, still tormenting her nipple. He switched back to the neglected one, feeling her chest heave against his mouth. Her fingers were back in his hair and tugging gently, and his cock twitched again at the feeling. He moaned loudly against her chest, and she pulled his hair again in response. He tugged at her nipple with his teeth lightly and she gasped, clenching around his fingers.

He sped up his pace, chuckling against her as the way she stifled a scream. "S-Spencer I'm gonna—oh fuck yes I'm coming!" She cried. Spencer pulled back to see her eyes flutter back into her head and her face twist in pleasure. Her face, neck, and chest were flushed scarlet and he felt as her pussy pulsed around his fingers. The sounds that fell from her lips were more beautiful than anything he'd ever heard. He slowed his fingers down, gently coaxing her through her orgasm.

(Y/N) tugged his hair, pulling him up to crash her lips against his. She then moved those hands to his belt, deftly undoing his belt buckle and fly. Spencer removed his belt and then pushed his pants and briefs to his ankles before kicking them off. (Y/N) reached a hand out and ran her fingers over his cock, her thumb swiping across the tip as it throbbed.

He was aching and leaking into her hand, his hips bucking into her touch while she stroked once, twice, a third time, before guiding the tip between her thighs and pressing him against her entrance. He pushed in immediately, moaning at the heat that enveloped him, and stilled once he was fully sheathed inside of her. He panted heavily as he remained still inside of her, listening to the way she whimpered beneath him.

"S-so good," he whispered, his eyes screwed shut as he tried to keep himself from finishing immediately.

"Yeah? It feels good?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes!" He moaned. "You feel s-so good." His entire body tensed and his arms trembled under his weight when he felt her begin to writhe beneath him, trying to get some sort of friction between her legs. He took deep breaths before he pulled his hips back and pushed them back forward, earning enthusiastic moans from (Y/N)'s lips as her back arched up off of the bed, her chest pressing into his. He dragged himself back out, then back in, and kept this up until their hips had fallen into rhythm together. Every sound that fell from her lips was more beautiful than the last as Spencer rammed into her and the slap of skin on skin was mixed in with their moans.

"Sp-Spencer—" a moan cut her off, followed by his lips finding hers and swallowing the moan. His hips sped up and he felt her nails dig into his shoulders.

"I—oh my god—(Y/N), I think I'm about to come!" He cried out. He tipped his head back and a desperate whine ripped it's way from his throat as he felt himself growing closer and closer with each disjointed thrust into her and each moan from her lips. "Wh-where do you want—oh god—where should I—"

"Give it to me, please!" She mewled underneath him. "Please, please fill me up Spencer, please I need—" he finished before she could even finish her pleas, moaning loudly as he tensed and spilled every drop into her. He could feel her clench down onto him, could hear her cry out in pleasure and felt her fingernails digging into his shoulders hard enough that he suspected she may have drawn blood, but he couldn't bring himself to care about that through the pleasure coursing through every cell in his body.

By the time he came back down, he could barely hold himself up on his arms with how hard they were trembling. He opened his eyes and was blown away by the sight beneath him. Her hair was tousled and her face and chest were flushed, the latter heaving with her own gasps for air. Spencer leaned in to give her lips a soft kiss before pulling himself out of her. When he looked down in between their legs and saw his seed dripping out of her, his head spun with lust. He was snapped out of it by the sound of a cell phone ringing, and he reached for the source of the sound to determine which of them needed to answer.

When he located the phone beneath his own pants he answered figuring it to be his own phone ringing. "Hello?" He was still breathlessly panting as he looked at (Y/N), her eyes dancing with humor at his tone.

"Reid, is that you?" Garcia's voice came through the phone.

"Yeah, who else would it be?" He asked, gaining back a bit of control over his breathing.

"Well, given that I dialed (Y/N)'s number, perhaps her?" She laughed a little bit. "What are you doing answering (Y/N)'s phone sounding like you just finished a marathon?" She asked, her voice growing more and more excited with each word.

"I—uh, um—(Y-Y/N)'s phone?" He stammered, sitting up quickly at the words as he turned his gaze to (Y/N), who was cleaning herself up next to him with some tissues she had grabbed from his side table. Her eyes widened as she heard those two words come from his mouth and her hand shot to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I. uh, I guess I must have grabbed hers by mistake after we ate lunch together at her desk."

"Spencer Reid you really are the world's worst liar!" Garcia laughed from the other end as Spencer felt his entire face burn with embarrassment at being called out on his poor lying skills twice in one evening.

"I-it's for you," he mumbled while he handed her the phone. After he had cleaned himself up, he put his pants and shirt back on while he let (Y/N) focus on her conversation with Garcia, which she managed to continue while getting dressed. Once she had hung up the phone she pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed slowly while laughing.

"Well, now that Penelope knows so will everyone on the team," she let out a sigh but then smiled at Spencer so sweetly he couldn't help but scoot closer and wrap his arms around her again. They sat like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's presence in front of the still muted television.

"Hey, Spencer?" She spoke up eventually.

"Yeah?" He muttered back sleepily while he absent-mindedly played with her hair.

"I'm going to go grab another slice of pizza, want me to bring you one, too?"

[phas3d]

Hi there! I’m not sure if your still taking requests, but I would love to know your thoughts on how Lorenzo, Theo, Draco, Mattheo, and Tom would react to their s/o wearing their hoodie/sweater. I was thinking headcanons or a Drabble but anything would be great! I really love writing and hope you feel inspired to write even more soon!

Wearing Their Clothes | Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: calling theo a man whore, calling enzo a twink,

contains :: draco, tom, mattheo, theodore, lorenzo

notes :: inspired by uhh, nothing really - this prompt has been in my draft for ages and i finallyyyy finished it - THANK YOU to everyone who sends requests, I'm finally getting to them

DRACO MALFOY

When you complained about being cold, he instantly started lecturing you

"I told you it would get cold but your little pea brain didn't process that"

But while he's lecturing you, he's taking off his jumper and handing it to you

It smells like him and it's super soft

He only buys the best material for his clothes, because duhhh

He lets you wear it until you're somewhere warm

Although he loves you, he loves his jumper more

But he does sacrifice some of his jumpers by letting you wear them because, he hates to admit it, but you look super cute in his clothes

TOM RIDDLE

He watches you shiver for a few minutes until he decides to offer his jacket

You could literally be turning blue but he won't offer his jacket until he feels like it

He sighs, as if you asked for his jacket, and drapes his jacket around your shoulders

And guess what,,, he even ZIPS IT UP FOR YOU

AHHHH

Even though he's a dickhead at times, he's still a gentleman

When you put on his jacket, he slightly smirks at how big it is on you

Not cause you're cute, but because it makes him feel powerful to know he's bigger

MATTHEO RIDDLE

Is so so happy when he sees you out in the cold during his quidditch match

He's beaming and passes by you in the bleachers for a quick second as he throws his spare jersey in your arms

When you put it on, you smell his sweat and musk

Which would smell disgusting to some but to you, that's your boy :)

During his game, he glances over at you and smiles when he sees you wearing it

It helps push him to win even more

THEODORE NOTT

Sadly, Theo is a man-whore

Meaning he is always serving cunt,,, meaning he rarely wears jackets or sweaters

So if you're cold,,, so is he

Buttt on the lucky chance he is actually wearing a jacket and hiding his muscles, he doesn't hesitate to give you his jacket

And his jackets are 10 times better because not only is it always great material, clean, but it's also stylish

He always takes pictures of you when you wear his jacket, it makes him feel so happy and giddy

It kinda inspires him to try and style outfits for you to wear

Possibly plans matching outfits, that way if you get cold and he needs to give you his jacket - it will match both of you :)

This man is a THINKER!!! mwah

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

This man is a twig, twink, pocket sized

He will fly away in the wind like a napkin

BUT luckily, he loves getting massively oversized hoodies

It smells like the woods, a hint of lavender, but mostly fresh grass and sunlight is his scent

He loves to cool and comfy looks it gives - always gets a cool ass design on it as well

When you borrow his hoodies, he gets so giddy

He loves it so much since it's like he's claiming you in a way

Similar to how you leave hair ties, claw clips, and extra lip glosses all over his room

Definitely stacks up on big hoodies, that way you have a bunch of options to choose from

Even gets you guys matching designs in different colors