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wndaswife · 1 month

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saving room for dessert | wanda maximoff & fem!reader

Dinner with the new neighbours sets you on edge due to the repeated subtle passes made at your wife. You reestablish your ownership over Wanda in the kitchen while your guests wait for dessert in the dining room.

Word count: 6864

Tags | MDNI: smut, domestic fluff, humour, jealousy, possessiveness, reader has a penis, handjobs, brief thigh fucking, daddy kink, degradation, but way more praise, what is the word for almost getting caught fucking in the room beside the dinner guests??, sub!wanda maximoff

A/N: the corny alliteration of vision and virginia's name was not my doing it is based on his comic series ndskjfnkjfn

The town of Westview was a rather quiet one, though both you and your wife really loved the neighbourhood community, for it was friendly and close-knit. When you first moved into Westview together, it was because Wanda’s job had relocated her to somewhere further than where you had previously lived, and close to the charming town that was alike to the kind you had always talked about living in together.

Both of you were delighted to find that the people of Westview were welcoming and kind, and that there were frequently tourists that made the small town buzz with life, for Westview’s small-town charm along with its infamous preservation of its older architecture and landscape was a sight that many of those from the more bustling areas of New Jersey enjoyed visiting.

Though Westview had a tightly-knit community and a steady flow of cheerful tourists, it was rather uncommon for the small town to get new people moving in, so when one of the new neighbours ended up working alongside Wanda, the two of you were rather eager to get to know them — a long-time married couple with two children who’d graduated from college and were now living elsewhere.

After about two weeks of scheduling between the four of you, dinner that had long been spoken about was finally happening at yours and Wanda’s.

You were looking forward to it, for Wanda spoke quite highly of the wife, who she described as an extremely kind and funny woman. You had spoken with her a few times too, but only by chance like under casual circumstances when you were bringing in groceries with Wanda and she was out gardening.

Additionally, Virginia, the wife, lived in Russia until she was eight, and though Wanda was Sokovian, the two were able to initially enjoy discussing their Slavic similarities in culture and dialect until they became closer, chatting casually about things from their spouses to Westview. Eventually, conversation led up to Wanda inviting Virginia and her husband, Vision, over for dinner.

You were looking forward to it, and though Wanda was looking forward to dinner with the neighbours too, she also enjoyed hosting and cooking, and so the kitchen was busy and smelling wonderfully for the last little while as you cooked together.

Mostly, it was Wanda who took the lead with cooking, but since being married, her talents had rubbed off on you; you could now dice onions at perhaps two-thirds of the speed she could, and Wanda also always says you’re good at cleaning up after her while she cooks.

But also, you really just loved doing things like this with her, when you could just talk about anything, just the two of you, while doing things you could only dream about when the two of you were still only dating, living in a place together that you could also only dream about back then.

You wrapped your arm around your wife’s waist once she slid the potato dauphinoise into the oven and shut it, pulling her into your body and kissing her forehead. “I love you,” you uttered into her warm skin.

She held your chin in her hand and angled your face to hers so she was able to kiss your lips. “I love you too,” she replied, smiling sweetly at you.

Your guests were five minutes early, perhaps to make a good impression, for they could have been exactly on time if they so preferred seeing as though they lived right next door.

It was you who opened the door as Wanda was finishing up a few things in the kitchen, ensuring the cheesecake you had made earlier was comfortably sitting in the fridge waiting until it was time to serve dessert.

Also, she thought it’d be a good impression for you to greet them first, since you’d yet to meet either of them officially.

Cheesecake was actually your signature greatest achievement in the kitchen aside from nearly — not nearly at all, really, but you like to boast — keeping up Wanda’s onion-chopping. You’d taken the cheesecake recipe from a cookbook, and it was Wanda who adjusted most of the measurements and changed some of the ingredients, but it was you who could make it perfectly.

Well, Wanda could make it perfectly too, and probably better, but she never tried; she liked the way you made it, and gave you recipe credit though it was her who really reconstructed it to be what it tasted like now. But she always says that it was you who found the original recipe, at the end of the day.

Not that any of that would matter to your guests, and maybe it might be a story told over dinner if the topic came up, but it mattered plenty to you and Wanda; you wanted to concoct a special dinner together, preparing dishes with special meaning. Though some of said meanings were not as profound in their history as the cheesecake’s, like how Wanda lathered the dinner rolls in butter a second time halfway through because you liked when the top of the rolls weren’t completely dry by the time they were finished baking.

In any case, the intention was to host a dinner that was friendly and warm, and so the dinner spread was selected with intention.

“Hi,” you greeted with a smile, waving a bit awkwardly for no reason at all before ushering them into the foyer and closing the front door behind them. “You must be Virginia — I’ve heard lots about you from Wanda.”

The woman, slightly taller than you and with smooth, soft looking dark hair that ended at the mid-way point of her slender neck, beamed at you as she stepped into the house, her husband following behind her. She took your hand with both of hers, warm fingers caressing your hand gently. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve also heard quite a bit about you from Wanda,” she said, eyes crinkling at their edges as she smiled.

She gestured to her husband, a clean-shaved blonde man with aviators, slightly shorter than his wife but still a bit taller than you. “This is my husband, Vision,” she introduced. “I don’t believe even Wanda’s yet met his acquaintance.”

It was when Vision shifted the lidded ceramic bowl into his other hand to free one in order to shake your hand that you realised he was carrying something. You shook his hand with a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said cordially and with a smile.

“Virginia!” Wanda cheerfully greeted as she walked into the foyer, hair fixed up and now without her cooking apron on. They exchanged a hug and Virginia kissed her cheek before introducing Wanda to her husband.

“Thank you for having us,” Virginia said appreciatively. “We’re both thrilled to finally get to know both of you better.”

Wanda replied, sharing a tenderness with Virginia within their met eyes, “You’re very welcome. Y/N and I have been looking forward to tonight all week.”

“Oh,” you interjected softly, realising Vision was still holding his ceramic bowl. “I’m so sorry, let me take this into the dining room for you.”

“In fact, I’ll also take the both of you into the dining room too,” Wanda added lightheartedly. “Let’s get out of the foyer. You can set your shoes down anywhere by the door, and the coat rack’s right here.”

Once wine had been poured and everyone’s plates were served the dinner you and Wanda had made together — pomegranate-brined chicken with white balsamic charred peach, potato dauphinoise, and a medley of some vegetables — you each sat at the dining room table, enjoying your dinner together.

There was conversation about how wonderfully everything tasted, and you were sure to credit Wanda with taking charge in the kitchen, allowing her to talk a little bit about how she prepared the meal and delving into details the couple asked her about, like how she had made the potato dauphinoise so creamy.

You began to truly enjoy their company for how much they were complimenting your wife.

Until there was Vision’s, You’re a gorgeous woman who can put together an equally as gorgeous dinner spread — Y/N’s hit the jackpot.

“Dinner couldn’t have been done without Y/N,” Wanda assured and then looked at you with a proud smile mostly meant for your eyes, but you weren’t paying as much attention to her as you were scrutinising Vision’s body language after his comment.

It wasn’t… inherently malicious.

But there was something implicative in his wording that made you slightly sceptical of him.

Perhaps in an attempt to… Well, you actually weren’t entirely sure what Virginia was attempting to do when she lightly corrected, “Both Y/N and Wanda have hit the jackpot finding each other. You two seem so perfect for each other. Not to mention, if I might be so blunt, you’re a rather attractive couple.”

Wanda laughed, but in the way she regarded Virginia’s expression for just an additional moment before looking back down to her plate to respond with something humble and bashful, you knew she was also curious about the other couple’s compliments.

“I moved the wine around!” you tried, intentionally poorly, to call after Wanda when conversation came around to discussing the different wines you had, resulting in Wanda leaving to go get one the opposite couple loved. “Sorry, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t believe I’ve yet told her how I reorganised down there.”

As you headed down the hallway, you inhaled and exhaled thoroughly to untie the uneasy kink in your stomach, sure to keep your shoulders still so your tenseness wasn’t obvious to your guests who could still see your back until you headed downstairs to where the wine was kept, for their comments hadn’t stopped since the first time.

Wanda looked over her shoulder at you when you descended the stairs and she straightened from looking around at the selection. “Baby, do we still have the Pinot Grigio they were asking about?” she asked, hands on her hips as she leaned back a bit and ran her eyes over the selection on the wall in front of her.

“Are they swingers or something?” you asked as you approached, placing a hand atop Wanda’s hand on her hip as you reached around her and took the white from the wall to her left.

“Oh, you moved them,” Wanda noted, thanking you when you handed it to her.

You stood beside her in front of the wine rack and repeated your question, looking up at the closed basement door before asking again. “Are they swingers?”

“What?” Wanda looked up from surveying the wine, looking confused. “What are swingers?”

Clarifying, you replied, “Couples who sleep with other couples.”

“Them?” she asked incredulously and laughed. You took that as a ‘no,’ then looked over at the basement door curiously as if you could see them through it, ruminating over their comments. Then Wanda was silent and unmoving and you looked at her as she was tapping her fingers against the glass of wine, seemingly in deep thought of her own. “Well… Come to think of it…”

“Wanda!” you hissed. “You invited swingers over to our place for dinner!”

“I didn’t know!” she answered. “I just thought… Virginia talks about her sex life often and I suppose there are some times that she’s alluded to… to swinging about with other couples—”

“It sounds weird when you use that term like that — just say sleeping with,” you interrupted.

Your wife gave you a look and you cracked a tiny amused smile before she continued. “Anyway, yes, I suppose they’re swingers. I didn’t know!”

With your arms crossed, you tapped your fingers against your upper arm in thought, and Wanda supposed you were thinking of how to converse with them now that you both knew they were swingers. But instead you asked hesitantly, meeting Wanda’s eyes, “Are you… interested in that?”

Wanda scoffed. “Y/N, no. Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied. You surveyed her face for a moment longer and she fully turned her body to face you. “You really think I want to sleep with other couples?”

“No, I don’t, but we’ve never had the conversation before, so it’s possible that you’ve had it on your mind before, even in passing.”

She assured, “I do not want to sleep with anyone else but you.” It was almost funny to hear those words come out of her if you thought about it with no context, but context given, it was really a relief to you. “I’m entirely satisfied with only us, and the thought of being with anyone else disturbs me greatly. I’m not offended that you asked just to make sure, but the idea of being with another couple, or anyone but you, has never been anything that I’ve entertained. Y/N, I didn’t even know what swinging was until a moment ago.”

“Okay?” she checked in, her voice soft, letting her other hand with the wine hang by her hip while she stepped towards you and cupped your cheek with a warm hand. “I really didn’t know — and not even subconsciously, if you’re thinking that.”

“Okay,” you confirmed and smiled at her, causing Wanda to smile at you in response. She leaned forward and kissed you.

When she pulled away, she met your eyes and your chest warmed when Wanda’s smile crinkled the sides of her eyes. Her thumb rubbed against your chin adoringly. “I’m unsure how we ought to go about signalling a lack of interest in having sex with them,” she told you.

“Just a lack of reciprocation, maybe?” you suggested, and at that, you perked up at the recollection of their commentary that you now knew was flirtatious. “Wanda, if Vision calls you gorgeous one more time, I’ll fuck you over the dining table monogamously in front of them — I’m serious. It’s driving me crazy. He’s right, but to know they’re both just thinking of how much more gorgeous you’d be if we were all having sex is rather startling.”

It wasn’t that they weren’t making subtle passes at you too, but since Wanda was far more communicative and talkative, it was natural that their efforts to become closer circulated your wife far more than it did you.

Wanda laughed and pushed at your shoulder playfully, her head thrown back slightly. “You’re such a freak,” she said. She took your hand and you headed out of the basement together. “It’s okay. Now that we’ve spoken about it together, I’m sure it’ll be much less awkward since we know they’re swingers. It likely won’t be a problem until they bring it up, and then we can clarify that we’re not interested.”

The plan was more than simple, but it failed to consider how agitated you were becoming, little comments now seeming much larger now that their intentions were clarified between you and your wife.

It was things from Virginia noting how you seemed to be the one to ‘take charge’ in the marriage, to asking outright how often the two of you had sex, about children and the possibility of them, and plenty of other things that were likely of no consequence but seemed irritating to you because you were simply irritated.

Mostly, it was Virginia’s comments that were permitted to be slightly more vulgar as it was she who asked about yours and Wanda’s sex life, for she was now more than only work friends with your wife, and she’d shared much about her own intimate tendencies with Vision before.

The conversations about sex weren’t crude, and mostly they were merely jokes, but knowing the intentionality behind them now made them far more than that.

But it was about more than references to sex; there were comments made about how both you and Wanda were such a perfect couple, how well you worked together and how kind you were — observations upon observations about how you and Wanda were within your marriage.

It seemed they had standards, at least.

And truly, Virginia and Vision were kind people and you would thoroughly enjoy having them as neighbours as soon as it was made clear that you and Wanda weren’t interested in sleeping with them.

What irritated you wasn’t necessarily all about them and their commentary, for they knew not that you and Wanda weren’t interested, and anyways, if Virginia had been alluding to being a swinger along with her husband on several occasions, this dinner might very well be interpreted by them as interest.

So you didn’t necessarily dislike them.

It was all true that you and Wanda made a wonderful pair and that Wanda was gentle and so generous, and that she was beautiful and all the things that had been said about her tonight.

She was very funny too when she wanted to be, and had great taste in movies and all her clothes always sat so well on her shoulders, and her hair was always so soft and the crook of her neck was always very warm, and her fingers were gentle and curious when she had them wrapped around you, and she was so delicate when she slept, and her elbows were a nice shape, though you don’t think you ever told her what you thought about her elbows — all this Virginia and Vision didn’t know, but for whatever reason, you thought so much about it all.

And for another inexplicable reason, it was rather related to how irritated you were.

“Y/N and I have been married for two and a half-ish years now,” Wanda said in response to a question you weren’t listening to, placing her hand on your thigh. You looked over at her and she smiled at you sweetly.

You’d only said a few things in the last few minutes, little comments and visible reactions to show that you were engaged in the conversation, but nothing majorly contributory. You looked to the side in brief thought then said, “Two years and… seven months.”

With a second more to think, you also added, “Three days.”

Wanda thought that was funny, but also sweet, and her smile widened, perking up her ears slightly as her smile grew. She squeezed your knee and pulled her hand away to take a sip of wine. “Indeed — two years, eight months, and three days.”

“If we feel so inclined to place trust in my math,” you joked modestly.

You watched as Wanda conversed further with your guests, watching the way she laughed and how she looked over at you often to see your reactions to things or to just make eye contact with you. Specifically, you liked when she looked at you while she was laughing to see if you were also laughing, to share in that joy with you.

As you watched your wife between sips of wine, there was a rupture of adrenaline that came over you. All that you’d been thinking of about Wanda wasn’t some abstract concept about some idea of Wanda — they were all about the woman you loved, the woman who loved you, the woman you were married to.

The woman who was yours, and who’d only ever be yours, as you were hers.

The thought warmed you and made you feel delighted, but your cheeks felt warm and the wine warmed your throat and chest in such a pleasant way, and suddenly, you needed Wanda then and there like you knew you had her.

“Are we all ready for dessert?” Wanda asked, looking around at the table to see everyone’s plates empty with their silverware to the side.

When Vision confirmed for both himself and Virginia, Wanda said, “Y/N’s made a wonderful cheesecake for the occasion. She can be quite the chef.” Her praise made you feel a bit bashful and you smiled at her gratefully.

Virginia expressed excitement for dessert while you and Wanda collected the empty plates to bring to the kitchen, letting them know it’d be a few minutes.

You followed behind Wanda as she headed down the hallway and into the kitchen. Dishes were thoroughly emptied and rinsed before being placed into the sink while Wanda carefully took the cheesecake out of the fridge.

“Can you take this?” she asked, holding the cake out to you. You took it from her and placed it on the island counter at the centre of the kitchen. “I think I’ll slice some fresh fruit and arrange it nicely on top. I didn’t want to do it before it was served or it wouldn’t be fresh.”

You were listening, but not quite taking in what she was saying. You watched her closely as she took out some fruits and honey from the fridge and brought it to the counter before taking out the cutting board. She tucked loose hair behind her ears and pushed her sleeves up.

Her neck was exposed and you felt the urge to smell her perfume, feel the warmth of her skin against the tip of your nose.

You stepped forward so your pelvis was pressed against her hip, an arm wrapped around her waist as you pulled her close and ducked your head beyond the strands of her hair, burying your nose in her neck. She tipped her head to the side, allowing you room to kiss up her neck.

You felt the vibrations of her laugh against your lips.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I need you,” you answered briefly, using your other hand to tug her sleeve down slightly and expose some of her shoulder so you could kiss there too. There was no response from her aside from a soft hum, and you knew it had been on her mind too. “Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it; all their implications have made me think of you all night.”

“And that constitutes you needing me now?” she asked, turning her head to look down at your face along the slope of your nose and forehead seeing as your face was still half-buried within the crook of her neck. “I would have thought you’d be too busy brooding.”

She was trying half-heartedly to taper your desire, but the soft inflection in her voice told you she’d certainly felt the same thrum you’d been feeling too.

“I was busy with far more important things.” You wrapped your fingers around her wrist carefully and led her hand down to between your hips, and in spite of her hesitation, Wanda’s fingers wrapped delicately around you through your pants. Your hips immediately bucked into her hand.

Wanda inhaled sharply then sighed at the feeling of you. “Y/N…” Your name trembled on her lips. You watched as she swallowed, eyes flickering up at the hallway in front of you both. Her jaw tensed and she looked back down, fingers twitching as she internally fought against her most rational objections.

She bit the inside of her cheek before her hand moved, unbuttoning your pants then unzipping. She met your eyes, her hand pausing momentarily, perhaps wishing you might change your mind suddenly and stop her before she was unable to stop herself. But you said nothing, only meeting her eyes with stubborn conviction.

Your gaze made her cheeks flush a soft pink and Wanda shifted in her spot, pushing her own hips against the edge of the island counter, no doubt feeling her own desire growing. She looked down and tucked her hand past the waistband of your underwear, pulling it down along with your pants until your cock was free.

“I’ve been thinking about having your lips around my cock,” you whispered, your lips brushing against the lobe of her ear. “About the way you groan when I pull out just enough so you can taste the way you make me feel against your tongue before I fuck myself down your throat. I thought about how beautiful your pussy looks when I lay you down and spread your cunt open. I thought about you.”

Her breathing became heavy at the sight of your arousal, seeing how you twitched as you spoke about her. Her hand wrapped around you, her thumb brushing gently over your sensitive tip and eliciting a soft grunt from you.

“Fuck, Wanda,” you cursed from beyond clenched teeth. Your hips twitched forward into her hand and Wanda didn’t wait a moment before giving you the friction you wanted, her hand jerking around you and repressing a moan of her own as she felt you throb and twitch in the warm confines of her palm.

Your arm wrapped around her waist advanced upwards, pulling up some of her shirt and exposing some of her lower stomach as your hand groped at Wanda’s clothed breast.

She let out a soft moan and you watched as she squeezed her thighs together and further pressed her pelvis into the kitchen counter in desperation. Her hand gained speed, ensuring to graze around your tip each time her hand continued its rhythm around you. Her head rested on your shoulder as she watched the way she touched you, watched the way you let her touch you, her breaths shaky as she felt her own desire climb.

But how could you deny your wife mutual pleasure?

You moved the cutting board to the side and Wanda watched as you readjusted things.

“Y/N, don’t,” she protested quietly. “We can’t.”

Ignoring her, you moved from her side, her hand releasing from around you as you placed your hands on her hips and pressed her against the counter.

You unbuttoned her pants and watched over Wanda’s shoulder as she watched your hands, her chest rising and falling, gripping the edge of the counter. She was so warm against your body and her perfume smelled so nice.

You pulled her pants down along with her underwear, allowing you to press your cock against her perfect ass.

Wanda exhaled a deep, trembling sigh and she leaned forward against the counter. “Y/N,” she weakly protested again, reaching back and trying to swat your hand away.

Impatient about wanting her to give up her hesitation, you pulled her pants down further below her ass and slotted yourself between her thighs, parting her wet cunt with your dick and brushing your tip against her clit.

Her head fell back against your shoulder and you felt her thighs squeeze together ever so slightly, nudging you up against her clit.

“We can’t?” you asked.

“They’ll…” Wanda braced herself again and straightened her back, knuckles turning white as she pressed the pads of her fingers into the underside of the counter. “They’re in the other room. We’d have to…”

“Be quick?”

She nodded.

“I can be quick,” you told her. You kissed the corner of her jaw, the hollow part behind her earlobe. “You know I can be quick.��

Your hand slid down her stomach, the heel of your hand brushing against the space between her hips before your fingers found her clit. Carefully, you brushed them against her, feeling the way she twitched her ass back against you, subtly rubbing herself against your cock that was still throbbing between her thighs.

“Beg me to fuck you.”

Wanda looked over her shoulder at you. “What?” she asked. “I thought you wanted–”

“But you were so adamant that we couldn’t. Now, I’m not so convinced myself,” you said. “You’ll have to beg me.”

“Y/N, please,” she whispered impatiently.

You gave a quick pinch to her clit and Wanda repressed a yelp as her body jolted against yours. “That’s not how you beg, baby.”

Wanda urged, “We don’t have time.”

“Make time.”

Impatient, you spanked Wanda’s ass lightly and took a handful of the soft flesh, eliciting a sharp inhale from your wife before she sighed out, “Oh, Y/N…”

She reached back, parting from your hips to make enough room for her hand. She wrapped her hand around your cock and stroked it slowly, bending herself over the counter and presenting herself to you obediently.

“Please, daddy,” she begged. “I want you inside me. I want… I want you. Please. I need you.”

You watched as her desperate hand continued to pleasure you, watched as her back arched as she bent over the counter. You pushed her shirt up her back, eyes running up the delicate curve of her spine and feeling with your palm the smoothness of her soft skin.

“Are you… Are you going to?” Wanda asked nervously, fully aware of the fact that you had every liberty to pull away and forget all about wanting to fuck her right there and then. She wasn’t exactly meeting your eyes, not that she could at the angle she was looking back over her shoulder at you, but she wasn’t exactly trying to either, for the possibility of you leaving her all desperate and unfucked was all too real.

You hummed in what sounded like consideration, but really, you were just running your eyes down the curve of Wanda’s lower back and the perfect swells of her ass, watching the way she continued to hesitantly stroke you, desperate to please and desperate to have you inside of her.

“How could I deny you, Wanda?” you finally answered, and you saw your wife flush from beyond her mess of loose strands, looking away and at the hallway ahead that led to the dining room.

“We really have to be quick,” she reminded, letting go of you but not without brushing her thumb over your tip again.

A hand came to her upper back and flattened her against the kitchen counter, a soft grunt leaving Wanda as was pressed down against the marble. “You really overestimate yourself if you really think it’ll take very long to get you to come,” you mocked, hands hooking under her hips and around her upper thighs, arching her back further and sticking her ass up.

At the sight of her cunt, you groaned and parted her sticky mess with your thumb and middle finger, brushing your index finger down across her clit. You ran your thumb across her hole, dipping ever so carefully into her before removing your hand to position yourself against her opening.

“I couldn’t help but notice,” you said, “how embarrassed and shy you were every time they mentioned sex or asked about our sex life. Trust me, there were dozens of other things running through my head, but one in particular.”

Wanda gripped at the edge of the counter, taking in a breath as she felt you prod at her opening with your tip, dipping in just enough for her to feel the stretch of your cock sliding into her. “What… What was it?” she asked quietly.

“I wondered why you felt such an urge to act so embarrassed talking about sex when you know what a fucking slut you are,” you gritted out before your hands tightened around her thighs below her hips and pulled her ass back against you so your cock slid into her with a single thrust.

You leaned forward to grunt against her shoulder, muffling your noises and letting your wife know how good she felt. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good around my dick, angel,” you groaned. “Sweet innocent girls wouldn’t be able to take cock like this, Wanda. You put up a front when you’re with them, but you know how much you love getting your pussy fucked raw by daddy. Isn’t that right?”

Wanda shut her eyes tightly, her moans and yelps being only partially-swallowed as she tried to keep them from escaping past her lips, though it become increasingly difficult as you began thrusting forward, trapping her between the kitchen counter and your hips and forcing her to withstand the entire impact of your brutal fucking.

“Th-That’s right…” she conceded.

“I know it is,” you agreed. “I know it is, because it’s fucking filthy. You’re a filthy slut, baby. You can hear it, can’t you?” You reached down to rub your fingers against your wife’s clit. “You can feel how much it turns you on that you’re all daddy’s, that daddy can fuck you whenever she wants because she owns you.”

Your forehead laid against her shoulder and Wanda reached up to cradle the back of your head with her hand, interlacing her fingers with your hair.

“That’s right. Fucking take it,” you grunted into her ear, feeling yourself growing closer each time Wanda’s walls squeezed around you, listening to her delicate high-pitched yelps every time you pinched her clit or thrusted into her so hard her ass stung with the way your skin slapped against hers.

Her hips were beginning to become sore with the way they were pressed against the edge of the counter.

“Do any of you need help in there?” Virginia called from the dining room, audibly beginning to head down the hallway to the kitchen.

“A-Ah, no!” Wanda called back, her attempts at repressing her moans making her response come out slightly more aggressive than she’d wished. “Please don’t! We’re almost finished. Just…” Her head hung as she quickly ran out of excuses, but she couldn’t bring herself to push you away — not when she was so, so close.

Not when you felt this good inside of her, holding her so close against you.

You felt so good with your arms around her.

You took a handful of Wanda’s ass as you shoved her further down against the counter so she was being soundlessly fucked from behind as her hair gradually became undone, her shirt riding up to expose that beautiful curve of her spine that you loved.

“Wanda’s a bit of a perfectionist with decorating the cake,” you added, digging your nails into her malleable flesh and watching as smooth ivory tinted into a flushed red. “She wants it to be a surprise!”

“I promise we’re… we’re nearly finished!” Wanda called back, slightly breathless, before quickly burying her face into her arms and muffling herself.

Virginia gave in, saying something about having the both of you promise not to work too hard because both she and Vision would love the cake anyways. But neither of you paid much attention once you heard her walking back down to the dining room.

“You feel so good inside of me, daddy,” Wanda whimpered into her arms. “Please come inside. I want to feel you. I wanna feel how warm you are.”

Being degraded always turned Wanda on, but it was being praised that made her come; you loved how your wife was so sensitive to sweet things like that.

So you lifted her from the counter with your arm wrapped around her waist so her arms were taut with her hands gripping the edge of the counter again. From here, you were pressed against her with access to whisper into her ear.

“You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you, sweetheart?” you complimented against her cheek, pressing a kiss there and running your hand beneath the confines of her shirt. “All nervous and hesitant to let daddy make you feel good at first, but you knew better later, didn’t you? You know that I know what’s best for you, honey.”

Wanda nodded fervently. “Yes, I…”

Your hand pulled Wanda’s bra to the side and you kneaded her breast with your hand, feeling the way her nipple hardened against your palm before moving to the other and pinching her other nipple between your thumb and forefinger. “Oh, I know,” you cooed when she leaned back against you with a prolonged, quiet moan. “My princess, you’re such a good girl.”

“Why don’t you listen to what a good girl you are, hm?” you asked, moving both your hands down to grip her hips again and pulling her against you. You watched in detail as you pulled out of her, her glistening pussy wrapped around your cock, before you thrusted back in, your obedient wife taking every inch.

Both of you listened to how her cunt sounded around your dick, her slick coating you as you throbbed inside of her, her tight walls squeezing you in just the right way, feeling the way the pressure from her walls gripped around your tip when you pulled out at just the right length.

“Fuck, baby, your pussy feels so good,” you groaned, leaning back so you could watch the way her ass looked when you rutted your hips against her. Unable to help yourself in spite of the noise you knew it might make, you delivered a spank to the side of Wanda’s ass.

You then wrapped your arm around Wanda’s waist again, your other hand moving up to cup the side of her cheek and turn her head around so you could kiss her lips. “Come on, angel, fuck yourself on daddy’s cock. Let me see how badly you wanna come on my dick.”

Wanda obediently began moving, arching her back to allow herself leverage to fuck herself back against you, listening to how her ass slapped back against your hips.

“That’s good, baby. You’re so beautiful,” you breathed out against her neck, kissing the warm expanse as you listened to Wanda whimper and try to hold herself together until you gave her permission to come. Your hand groped her breast again. “You’re so needy for daddy’s cock, hm? You’re making such a fucking mess, Wanda.”

“Y/N…” Wanda whispered, her arm reaching back to grab at the edge of your shirt. “Please let me come. Please.” You kept your chest pressed against her upper back, allowing her to meet your eyes when she turned her head to plead.

“Come all over daddy’s cock, baby, come on,” you permitted. “I love to see you all desperate for me. Let me see you come, Wanda.”

Wanda ground her ass back against your hips, burying your cock deep within her pussy as she came around you, walls gripping at your twitching cock. You felt her pulsate around you as she grasped desperately behind her, searching for your hand.

You interlaced your fingers with hers and kissed her lips as you came to your own hilt, emptying yourself inside of her and letting her feel your warm cum fill her up to the brim until you could feel yourself dripping out from the sides of her cunt.

Weakly, you continued thrusting into her, fucking your cum deep inside of her as Wanda whimpered, sensitive and still pulsing around you as she felt your sticky warmth shoot up inside of her.

“Oh… I love when you come inside of me, Y/N,” she breathed out, satisfied and tired as she let go of your hand and used both to balance herself against the counter as she slumped forward.

You grinned at her and kissed the back of her neck as you pulled her underwear up first, giving her sensitive cunt a quick swipe through her panties, telling her to keep your cum in for as long as she could. Then you did her pants back up and did the same for yourself.

The rest of the cheesecake decorating went relatively fast after Wanda quickly cleaned herself up in her kitchen window reflection.

Actually, neither of you had ever decorated a cheesecake so fast considering you decided to go a bit overboard with some whipped cream to make up for how long you both took — it would’ve made far more sense to come out with a more intricately decorated cake. It was a decently-sized cake, just enough for four people to enjoy, so it didn’t take as long as it would’ve if it were sized regularly.

“Oh, we were so worried you might’ve needed help with the dessert,” Virginia said the moment the both of you stepped into the dining room, Wanda with the cake in hand and you with the plates and silverware.

“We’re so sorry,” Wanda apologised. “One of us set the cake lopsided in the fridge and it came out a bit kooky, so we had to reshape it and all. And then the organising of the fruit and—” She waved her hand dismissively as she set the cake down. “Well, it’s all finished now.”

You set the plates down for everyone along with their respective knives and forks. “We hope you didn’t have to wait too long,” you told them apologetically.

Aside from how your initial impression as a couple spiked Virginia and Vision’s interest in wanting to sleep with both you and Wanda, the meal thus far must’ve paid off, for they really didn’t seem irritated at all after waiting for dessert.

And they did end up enjoying the cake too.

Except for Wanda, however, who seemed to be rather distracted with something else. You watched as she kept readjusting herself in her seat, her thighs squeezing together every so often and taking sips of her wine just to fidget with the handle of the glass.

You were rather eager to fuck your wife in the bedroom too after dinner, but before that, to see how much of your cum had leaked out of her.

By the looks of it, she had failed to hold much of it in.

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #elizabeth olsen

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cultofdixon · 3 months

Text

Oddly Fascinating

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Can you imagine a human fucking pretzel? Well you certainly like to freak the others out unexpectedly • SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex

Requested by: Anon

It’s…fascinating. The things Y/N can do with JUST her body. Keep that noggin out of the gutter for a minute.

Y/N joined the group a little after the Woodbury infusion to the prison. She didn’t have a group and sort of ended up in Virginia because she simply didn’t stop walking from where she originated.

One day Daryl, Michonne, and Glenn were out on a run in the closest outdoor mall, which is a few hours away from the prison—so they were going to have to camp. Daryl went to check the store that looked like a miniature Home Depot thinking he could find some camping supplies but when he entered the store…said camping supplies were in use but no person.

“If anybody is here, I ain’t gonna hurt yea,” Daryl stated knowing that wouldn’t go far but to his surprise one of the storage boxes’s lids flung open. Soon a woman’s upper half popped out like a jack in the box and it was a bit unsettling to the archer.

“I had to see who I’m working with and what makes yea think I’ll trust “I ain’t gonna hurt yea” with muscles like those”

“You think I’d hit a woman?”

“It’s the apocalypse. If laws don’t exist, neither does moral code. I follow them still…but still”

“I don’t hit women.” Daryl scoffs. “How do yea fit in there?”

“I don’t know you well enough to share my skills. But I do feel a little better knowing you’re not gonna throw a left hook at my face” the woman began to fully pull herself out of the container and when she stepped out, she locked eyes with the archer’s confused yet curious ones. “Okay I trust you about not killing me but why haven’t you left?”

“Gonna ask yea a few things if that’s okay with you”

“Sure I guess” She put the lid back on the box before taking a seat and crossing her arms.

“How many walkers have you killed?”

“Lost count a long time ago”

“How many people have you killed?”

“Four”

“Why?”

The woman went silent for a moment and avoided eye contact as she held herself. “They were my friends, and brother who were about to turn. They didn’t want to be taken out as a walker and didn’t want to become one so. You know…”

“I do” Daryl leaned against one of the shelves. “It’s hard to take someone you care about out after they’ve changed”

“Getting deep with me and we don’t even know each other’s name”

“Daryl”

“Y/N”

Then she joined their group right then and there. The others that came with Daryl liked her, didn’t trust her right away but given her attitude immediately when it came to them asking the same questions Daryl asked—-both Glenn and Michonne knew that they will grow to trust her. Same with the others. Returning back to the prison with a lot more than they had expected helped the initial image of the new comer. Y/N hoarded a lot of stuff so thinking that she would survive alone in there.

Some part of Daryl wanted Y/N to take the empty cell in their cellblock but given he didn’t speak up and Rick showed her one of the others, that wasn’t happening.

But she was very involved with helping around the prison.

“You good up there Y/N?” Rick calls out to her receiving a thumbs up while she continued to work with fixing part of the fence that disconnected from the gate.

The retired sheriff watches his brother pull in on his bike but stop to watch Y/N a moment. She dropped her wire cutters and as it hit the grass, Daryl hopped off his bike about to grab it when he quickly took a step back when Y/N jumped down somersaulting in the dirt.

“The hell is wrong with you?!” Daryl shouted as Y/N stood up immediately, stretching her back after her action. “Yea could’ve cracked your head open!”

“I’ve done it a million times before. Don’t worry your pretty little head”

“A million times? What, in the circus?”

“How did you know?” Y/N smiles catching him off guard at first and even more when she broke out in laughter. “I wasn’t in the circus dumbass. I’ve done a lot of risky stuff and…gymnastics. But what just happened is nothing compared to other stuff” she states while throwing herself back so she was then in a bridged position and Daryl watched her upper half lay flat on its stomach showing her crawl between her legs and hold her ankles. Exorcist shit.

“Now I think you’re an alien”

“Rude” Y/N scoffs as such action was a bit uncomfortable given her twisted position. “It definitely impressed and freaked out a few hook ups”

Now that led Rick to leave from overhearing their conversation, both knowing damn well he was there. He opened the gate once Y/N was back in the upright position and Daryl was still left appalled somewhat.

Y/N was definitely making a good impression on most. Has been on every run that was planned and no one opposed, she’s especially useful in tight situations.

“Alright, so I was thinking we break down the door and then—-“ Tyreese cut himself off when Y/N gestured for Maggie’s help to hoist her up and she happily obliged.

Next thing the group knew, Y/N was pushing herself through the small window above the locked door landing on the other side and unlocking it.

“Or that” Sasha chimes in with a laugh and smile, impressed by the woman. “Now we don’t have to almost break ourselves to get into places” she walked past her as Y/N brushes off some of the dirt checking her person carefully. Said actions didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl.

After a couple hours passed, the four returned to the prison and dispersed but as Daryl stuck by his bike a moment he noticed Y/N straggling a bit. She stood for a while glancing around and turned to Daryl with a questioning look before turning away.

“If yea need something, you can ask” He didn’t hesitate as Y/N slumped in defeat before turning around and approaching him.

“Crack my back”

“What?” Daryl scoffs confused as he wiped the grime off his hands with his rag. “How am I supposed to do that?”

“Imma turn around cross my arms and you’re going to wrap your arms around me then lean back until a crack is heard.” Y/N explained in the most layman terms she could think of and it clicked instantly to Daryl but he hesitated a moment.

“Is that what yea want?”

“Yes, well. What I really want is someone to step on my back but all of y’all aren’t trained to do that and back in the day I had a friend who was a masseuse.”

“Well, I’ll do my best” Daryl grunts bringing himself over after tossing his rag on his bike watching her turn around and do what she had to do before he wrapped his arms around her. “Just lean back holding yea?”

“Yup” Y/N felt a sudden warmth rise in her chest when she was being lifted and the heat came clear in her cheeks expressing more of a red hue.

She heard the crack a bit ago but they both just. Stood there and it went from Daryl holding her to them both holding each other. Still Y/N’s back against his chest but her arms held onto his. Daryl relaxed setting her down but the way he held her for much longer and Y/N didn’t show any sign of letting go.

There was something

When the illness washed through the prison and a few were sent to get the medicine, Y/N found herself in the doorway watching Bob shove alcohol into his bag. He turned toward her realizing she was there and instead of talking first, he quickly took a bottle and threw it in her direction watching her quickly fall back then swing her body back forward.

“Jesus fucking Christ what are you? One of those inflatable car sales string cheese looking things?!”

“That’s very descriptive. Are you gonna be the same way when telling me why you have a goddamn bag of alcohol and not medicine to save our people”

“Oh for fucks sake! You and I are the newest people at the prison and you’re willing to bend over backwards—-even literally—-for people you barely know”

“So?!”

“SO?!” Bob shouted which caught another’s attention, Michonne as the conversation ended the second she joined. Bob brushed past her as she quickly gave a concerned look to Y/N.

I’m fine. Was all Y/N gave her as she stepped out.

Of course the booze was found out by Daryl and that was a more explosive mess to address than when Y/N first confronted him. But it all stopped mattering when they finally got their medicine into their people.

After getting their medicine in, Daryl went in search for Y/N who disappeared after they did such. It didn’t take long to find her because she was in her cell but she was alone in the old Woodbury cell block. Because of the outbreak.

“You alright?” Daryl asks Y/N even if she was currently hiding under her deconstructed bunk.

“Yeah”

“Don’t look like it”

A few seconds of silence. “Yeah…” she sounded defeated and pulls her entire self out from under bringing herself to sit on her bed. Daryl bringing himself to sit with her leaning his back against the wall.

“You can trust me, with whatever is on your mind”

“It’s strange…how easily it was for Bob to just. Not care about the others in the heat of the moment”

“Some people are just like that. Somethin’ or someone has to change them”

“I used to be like that. Not a warm caring person when this thing first started. I just. Had moments that changed me”

“Yeah?” Daryl gave her a questioning look that she noticed in the corner of her eye. “What changed yea?”

“Having to end the lives of people I cared for, the ones who got bit. When…” Y/N hesitated a second before looking at Daryl. “When I met you”

She’s full of surprises isn’t she? Daryl could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he never felt that feeling before.

But this moment was short lived like the many that followed after.

Until they found themselves alone weeks later…in a new place, with strange new people. Y/N stuck by Daryl’s side since they first entered Alexandria and given how the archer was feeling from all the loss, he would find himself following her if she were to stray or disappear from his side for too long.

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Daryl asks while under the car Aaron drives for recruiting as he was asked to check something out for the man. Y/N being there to help in any way even if it is just handing tools to the archer.

Y/N was currently repairing one of the angel wings on Daryl’s vest which led her to using her leg to reach toward the bench then her foot hooked onto the handle of the tool box. She then carefully bent so that she could grasp the box with her hands and go through the kit for what he asked for.

“Damn”

The annoyingly familiar voice caught both of their attentions as Daryl pushes out on the skateboard sitting up to look at Spencer confused. Y/N equally confused on the matter while handing the tool over.

“You know I saw you the other day doing your…morning stretches or whatever. Didn’t think you’d be THAT flexible…and limber…” Spencer was starting, or continuing to make Y/N uncomfortable as he starts to check her out making her cover herself with Daryl’s vest in her lap.

Daryl quickly taking note of the reaction and glaring at the man. “Beat it”

“I wasn’t talking to you” Spencer brushed him off keeping his attention on Y/N. “I bet you’re even more flexible in more intimate situations”

Y/N scoffs instantly but before she could bite the guy’s head off. She felt herself being pulled toward Daryl’s direction. Daryl having grabbed the blanket she was seated on pulling it closer to him so he could protectively wrap his arm around her shoulders as she instinctively leaned into him.

“She’s taken. Now I’d fuck off and bother somebody else before your mommy sees her little boy’s face smashed the fuck in” Daryl threats and didn’t let his guard down but it got Spencer to storm off defeated. “What a tool”

“He’s not wrong about something”

“Huh?”

“I am very flexible when we’re intimate” Y/N laughs slightly catching her own boyfriend off guard resulting in the red hue rising in his cheeks.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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criminalmindswhore · 6 months

Text

Playlists Tell All

Tara finds your playlist titled Prentiss and looks through it while you drive. She and JJ tease you about it until Emily finally finds out.

BOTH HANDS ON THE PHONE AT ALL TIMES 🤨 Also, this is long bare with me, also not proofread, oops.

TW: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

It was no secret you were gay. It was apparent from the day you walked into the BAU wearing docs and a septum ring. Tara was the first to notice, lesbians find each other. You were never closeted to them but never shouted it in the bullpen either. If they asked, you told.

"Hey, Y/n can I ask you something?" Emily asked as you two went down the elevator. "Sure, what's up?" You smiled at her. "Are you gay?" She looked puzzled, "Miss BAU Unit Chief was the last to notice?" You chuckled and she looked offended, her mouth falling open. You were almost too distracted by your thoughts, 'I wonder if that's the face she makes when she-', to notice the elevator stop. "So like only women or?" She stepped out of the elevator, you following suit. You cringed at thinking of being with a man, "Only women." She chuckled, "I knew it." She stopped walking signaling you were parting ways for the night. The cold Virginia air made a chill run down your spine, or maybe you noticed the few shirt buttons undone on the way to the parking lot. "I'll see you tomorrow Y/n." She smiled at you and grabbed your bicep for a moment. The touch lingered in your brain, your skin on fire, "See you tomorrow Unit Chief of the gayest FBI unit." She laughed loudly at your comment as she walked away, her grey hair swaying with which step.

Your talks with Emily to your cars became a nightly thing, on purpose from your end but she didn't need to know that.

After a case in Northern VA, Tara, JJ and you were in an SUV driving back to Quantico. Tara deemed you the driver as you were a 'young sprite who would stay awake longer'. Your phone became the AUX phone and Tara sat up front scrolling through your music creating the perfect queue. Her eyes widened as she came across a playlist titled, 'long talks with Prentiss'. She sat straight up and looked at you. You turned your head to glance at her, then back at the road, "What?" She leaned back against the seat, "Nothing." JJ's interest was now peaked, "Tara, you gotta tell us now." Tara scrolled through the songs:

She - Dodie

girls - girl in red

1950 - King Princess

She's My Religion - Pale Waves

I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys

Call Out My Name - The Weekend

and on and on and on...

Tara came up with a genius plan, queuing up all the songs. The second girls came on, it clicked. "Tara, I can explain." She just laughed, "Explain that you have a huge crush on someone almost 30 years older than you?" JJ put down her Cheetos, "Wait? Emily?" Your grip on the wheel tightened and your cheeks turned bright red. "Can you two just not?" Tara chuckled, "Oh no miss thing, you have to spill now." JJ laughed from the backseat.

You weighed your options, either tell them and they tease you about it, or you don't and they tease you even worse until you spill, "Fine," the two women high-fived, "but it doesn't leave this car. Clear?" JJ saluted at you and Tara nodded. "She's just so hot dude. How could I not find her attractive and she does that stupid thing when she's focused where she licks her lip and then bites it." You were gushing like a high school girl at this point. "And don't get me started on her hands." JJ cringed slightly. "Okay, but she's 1, your boss, and 2, old enough to be your mom." You sighed and grimaced, "Why do you think it lives in my head? I have a playlist and that's it. She will never know and no one else will." Tara shook her head, "Honey she probably already knows. Emily is one of the best profilers in the world, not only that she's got those super-secret spy skills. Has she been acting differently towards you?" You shook your head, "No, I mean we've been talking one-on-one a lot more but that's just because we usually leave at the same time." Tara hummed and JJ laughed loudly, "What JJ?" You were still horrified at the current situation and her finding it humorous was not helping. "She did mention how she knows someone in her inner circle is attracted to her but didn't wanna bring it up." She leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. "JJ! You can't just tell me that!" Tara was losing it, doubled over in laughter. "You both suck."

It didn't get brought up again during the case. You thought it had blown over until you were all standing in the bullpen after the case chatting while people packed up bags and files. "Hey guys, what are laughing about?" Prentiss asked as she joined the group, bag in hand. "Reid is so oblivious to how much his neighbor wants to get in his pants," Luke explained while still laughing. Emily licked her bottom lip before pulling it between her teeth, Taras's head shot around to look at you wiggling her eyebrows. You scoffed and smacked her arm. "What's going on there?" Emily asked while smiling at you two, "Oh god are two?" Tara laughed and you nearly threw up in your mouth. The whole team was now looking at you and Tara with their mouths open, "God no! Tara and I are not sleeping together!" The team erupted into laughter except for you and Emily, staring into each other's eyes. She smiled sweetly at you and your face got hot. "I am going home, you guys enjoy bullying Reid." You grabbed your bag and stood up off your desk, "Wait, I'll walk with you, let me grab my cup from the kitchen." Emily took off swiftly to retrieve her mug and JJ gave you the 'I know something they don't' look. You glared at her and went to wait for Emily by the elevators. She approached you and pressed the down button, "Ready?" You nodded and stepped into the elevator.

The following week was full of being teased by JJ & Tara and Emily knowing something was up. Emily entirely said, "If someone made a playlist based on me I would be honored," while working a case. Which earned a stare from JJ and a muffled laugh from Tara.

One night you and Emily were heading down together like you usually did, "Hey, have you been seeing someone? Tara and JJ seem to know something about you no one else does." As you unlocked your car you froze. "Um, no, there's just a running inside joke going." You shrugged your shoulders trying your best to control your microexpressions. She seemed happy with your answer and wished you goodnight. You got in the car and turned on the playlist, your phone screen still open to it when someone knocked at your window. You rolled it down and Emily glanced at your lap, "Hey did you notice if- is that my name?" Her face was shocked, yours was pure fear. You flipped your phone over, "No." She saw right through you, "Y/n, let me see." She was smiling in a way you've never seen before. You didn't budge until Emily reached through the window and snatched your phone, turning away from your car. You unbuckled yourself and jumped out, "Emily please." It was too late.

She turned around, mouth agape, "Y/n, is this how you feel about me?" Her voice was low and dropped an octave. It shot shivers through your body erupting your core. You didn't know what to say, the damage was done. She stepped closer, reached behind you, and slid your phone into your back pocket. She went to move her hands but you grabbed her arms, holding them on your ass. "Emily." Your desperation showing in your voice. It set something off in her. Before you could process it, Emily's lips were on yours and your back was hitting your car. Her hands are on your hips gripping you tight. You snaked your arms around her neck gripping her hair. Her lips moved furiously on yours, her tongue swiping against your lips. The action made you whimper giving her access to your mouth. You could feel her chest moving on yours as she breathed heavily. She pulled away but kept her face inches from yours, "Y/n," she sighed, "This can't happen." You dropped your arms from her neck, she didn't move. "Fuck it." She said in the hottest fucking voice you've ever heard, you moaned at the sound before she attached her lips to yours again.

As her apartment door closed, bags were dropped, jackets discarded. Her lips moved against your neck as you gripped her shirt, "Emily, please." She chuckled, "Already begging for me pretty girl?" You moaned at the praise and Emily lifted a brow, "Oh you liked that huh?" Her arm reached around you to harshly grabbed your ass, "You like being praised by your boss huh? Like the slut you are?" Your knees buckled under you and she gripped your hips to keep you upright. Emily continued her attack on your neck as she pulled you to her bedroom, dropping you on the bed with a thump. "Pretty girl I need you to verbally consent for me before I fuck you senseless." She unbuttoned her shirt as you spoke, "Yes Emily, please. I need you." She slipped her shirt off exposing her black lace bra to you and you stared in awe. She laughed at you and took a finger under your chin pulling your eyes back to hers, "Up here." She spoke sternly and you didn't dare disobey at the risk of her leaving you high and dry. She straddled your lap and started undoing your shirt at an agonizing speed. You squirmed under her from impatience, "Ah, patience sweet girl. I'll get there. Although I understand why you're so needy after months of wanting me exactly like this. On top of you getting ready to make you scream my name." She slipped off your shirt and leaned in close, "I believe it was, call out my name I saw on that playlist of yours?" She left a wet sloppy kiss behind your ear. You could feel the pool of wetness growing between your legs.

She kissed down your collarbones as she unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. She kissed down to your chest until she reached your left nipple, swirling her tongue around it, "Mhm, fuck yes." You gripped her hair harder than you planned on eliciting a moan from her. It was music to your fucking ears. She discarded her slow and steady pace and reached down to unbuckle your belt, undoing your pants and slipping them past your ankles. They hit the floor with a metallic clink before she kissed down your stomach. She pulled off your underwear with her teeth, the sight nearly making you finish right then and there. "Emily, you're wearing too much, I wanna see you." Your voice was slurring, you were so drunk on every single thing you were feeling. She sat up and undid her bra, slipping it off, her perfect breasts falling against her chest. She was perfect. She stood for a second taking off her pants, revealing her perfectly toned legs.

She positioned herself between your legs and licked up your slit. The sensation making your head spin. Your hands gripping her sheets as she took your clit between her lips humming at the taste of you. "You are so in for it Y/n." Hearing her say your name like that was music to your ears. She started flicking her tongue against your clit and your back arched off the bed. She reached one of her hands up grabbing yours giving you something to ground yourself to this moment. You gripped her hands tightly as she teased you with the other hand. Emily removed her mouth from you looking up at you making eye contact, "Beg for it." Your words got caught in your throat causing Emily to completely move her hand away from you and harshly grip your thigh, "I told you to do something Y/n." You swallowed, "Please Emily. Please fuck me. Emily, I need you, please." She smiled devilishly before slamming two fingers inside of you setting a rough pace. "That's my pretty little slut." The cockiness apparent in her tone of voice. She maintained eye contact as she reattached her lips to your clit, pulling it between her teeth softly.

Emily's pace showed no mercy as she fucked you roughly. Her tongue and lips worked against your clit as she pumped her fingers in and out of you roughly. You were so close to coming undone and she could tell. She removed her mouth from you, still fucking you with her fingers, "Do you want to cum?" You writhed under her nearly screaming from pleasure, all you could muster was a nod. "I need words." You opened your eyes and looked into hers, "Yes. Please. I'll do anything." She smirked and let go of your hand, wrapping it around your throat. You moaned her name so loudly you swore the whole building would hear, but neither of you cared. She whispered against your clit, "Cum for me Y/n." She licked your clit once more before you came screaming her name and a slew of curse words. She continued her pace fucking you through the high until your body fell limp. She slowed her pace and slowly pulled her hands from you. She kissed up your stomach, "Such a good girl. You did so good pretty girl." She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before disappearing into the bathroom and returning with a warm, wet washcloth. She sat down at your feet, "Is it okay if I clean you up?" Her tone was gentle and slow. You nodded, not having feelings in your face. Your whole body felt like it was vibrating. She was soft and gentle, discarding the cloth into the dirty laundry.

She pulled a t-shirt over her head and laid one out at the end of the bed. She laid next to you, pulling you into her. You wrapped your arms around her waist before snuggling your head into her neck. She wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your head. "Emily, that was." You couldn't quite form the words as your nose was still tingling. "Awesome, amazing, perfect, I know." She giggled at her joke and you smiled. "Who would've known badass Unit Chief Prentiss likes to cuddle after sex." She scoffed, "Shut up! I can be soft!" You chuckled, "There's a shirt at the end of the bed if you want it. You can go to sleep, I'll get you up in the morning." You sat up and looked at her, "I'm kind of hungry." She smiled, her eyes wrinkling, "I'll grab you a snack." She left the room and you slipped on the shirt, never leaving the bed.

The playlist you regretted making, just got you the best sex ever.

#criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss #criminalmindsxreader #emily prentiss smut #smutwithprentiss #very gay

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Don't Drag Your Feet (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: just fluff

Bradley was lounging in his bunk on base in San Diego, partaking in his weekly phone call home to his parents. He smiled as he held the phone to his ear while Carole Bradshaw talked a mile a minute. He kept trying to cut in, knowing she would want to hear what he had to say, but she was going on and on about her cousin Brenda.

"Mom," he tried again, running his fingers through his hair.

"Oh, Bradley, all the cousins want to see you. Do you know when you'll be back in Virginia? Your dad and I figured you'd be back on base here by Thanksgiving at the latest?"

But he closed his eyes and thought about the one thing that had him hoping to stay in San Diego permanently. "Mom. I met a girl."

The line went completely silent.

"Mom? Are you there?"

And then all he heard was a loud screech that had him pulling the phone a few inches from his ear. "Goose!!! Baby! Get in here! He met a girl! Bradley met a girl!"

"Mom," he groaned into the phone. "It's not...anything serious." It wasn't. But he wanted it to be.

"Maybe it's not serious yet, but Bradley, darling, you never tell us anything about the girls you're seeing. All I know is that there are plenty of them, and that you don't seem to let any of them stick around. So when can we meet her?"

He sighed as his dad's voice carried through the phone as well. "Who's the girl?" he asked, and Bradley could hear the smile in his voice.

"He won't tell me anything about her!" his mom complained, even though she'd found out less than a minute ago and hadn't let Bradley speak at all. "What's her name? Are we allowed to know that much? And what does she look like? And did you meet her at work? And does she want to give me grandchildren?"

"Jesus, mom. Just, hang on and I'll text you a picture of her."

As Bradley pulled up the photo he wanted to send, he smiled. You were gorgeous. He was obsessed with the perfect curve of your cheek and your smile. When he sent the photo he told them your name, and that you were also a naval officer with multiple degrees from the naval academy. And then a screech even louder than the first one came tearing through the speaker.

"Bradley! She's beautiful! Goose! Look at her! Our grandchildren will be stunning. And her name sounds perfect with Bradshaw after it."

"Mom, I think you're getting ahead of yourself here-"

"I can tell you're serious about her! I'm not getting ahead of anything."

Bradley sighed. "I just think I might have stronger feelings than she does."

"Have you told her yet? That you're in love with her?" she asked.

He was in love with you. But he was too afraid to say it yet. Not before the mission. It was too soon.

Then he heard his dad's voice. "Some advice for you, son. If she's that pretty and that smart and you care about her that much, don't drag your feet."

But Bradley always dragged his feet. And women never kept his attention. He was thirty five years old, and he had only had two girlfriends.

You were different. He could tell right away. But you were way out of his league, and he didn't know the first thing about how to keep you. How to make you his. But he wanted to. He really wanted to.

"Listen to your father, Bradley. We were engaged by our sixth date."

"Yeah, I know. You've told me about a million times." But he was smiling into the phone now, because even he knew that the kind of love his parents had was rare. He's grown up around it, but he'd never experienced it himself. Until now.

Then he heard his mom ask, "Do you want me to fly out with my engagement ring? I can probably fly out on Tuesday so you have it for when you're ready. And then I can meet your dream girl. We can all go out to dinner with Mav."

Bradley laughed and cradled his forehead in his hand. "Do not fly out on Tuesday, okay? It's way too soon for that. And if you give me your ring, what will you wear?"

"I'll buy her a new one," his dad said immediately. "Something big and pretty for my girl."

Bradley knew there was no other way to get them off the phone, so he said, "Tuesday is no good for me. But I'll think about it, okay? I'll think about...taking your ring so I have it. Just in case."

When he told them he loved them and ended the call, he was already thinking about it.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #if you ask emily #b&bg #is it working for you?#bradley bradshaw fanfiction #roosterforme

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therealdisneyfan2319 · 2 months

Text

Swing | Wanda Maximoff

A Stripper MILF Wanda Cinematic Universe Story

Summary: Wanting to make up for missed birthdays, you give Wanda quite the present

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Male Reader

Warnings: Smut (18 + MINORS DNI), language

Word Count: 1.9K

Masterlist

You anxiously paced around the living room of your shared house with Wanda. She was en route back after dropping the boys off at Vision’s for the weekend. The quiet hour you had to yourself was spent setting up the latest in a long line of birthday gifts for your girlfriend. It was your way of making up for all the ones her ex had forgotten: how anyone could ignore Wanda on her birthday was incomprehensible. She insisted that you didn’t need to spoil her, arguing that you didn’t need to make up for Vision’s shortcomings. You ignored her. It was the first time in your life you had a woman to spoil and you were planning on taking full advantage of that.

The gifts started small: cooking her favorite dinner on Monday for no reason, surprising her with her favorite flowers on Tuesday, the new end table she’d been talking about for months on Wednesday, and a long after dinner massage on Thursday. Wanda wasn’t used to such thoughtful displays of kindness. Yet you were determined to make sure she had the best birthday yet, which is why you saved the best for last. This was the present you knew she wouldn’t be expecting at all. It’s the one she mentioned in passing once not realizing how you’d cling onto it for the last few months. It was the most expensive of the gifts. And it was the most…scandalous…of the gifts.

The sound of the front door unlocking snapped you back to reality. Your heart pounded in your throat, threatening to explode out of your body entirely as seconds turned to minutes turned to hours as you waited for Wanda to walk down the hallway.

“Virginia’s over for the weekend. She brought the kids with her, too. I know Billy gets along with Vin well enough, but Tommy really doesn’t care for him or Viv. And I don’t understand why the V names. Could they not come up with anything else?” Wanda frequently voiced her disdain for her ex-husband’s new girlfriend and her kids. While you knew that she was happy and secure in your relationship, you also knew that the topic of her failed marriage was a sore subject.

“The boys’ll be fine, Wands. It’s just for the weekend.”

“I know.”

“They’ve gotta get used to being around Virginia and the kids.”

“I know.”

“That means we have the weekend to ourselves.”

“I know,” Wanda smirked.

“I have a present for you.”

“Y/N, no. You’ve already gotten-” “It’s downstairs.”

Wanda’s mouth snapped shut abruptly as she looked at you, a curious expression painted on her face.

“Follow me?” you asked as you offered her your hand. You smirked knowingly as Wanda sighed, dropping her hands into your outstretched one.

“You know, you don’t have to spoil me like this just because it’s my birthday. Really, it’s okay.”

“I want to make up for all those ones that Vision missed or forgot or whatever…plus this one is for both of us.”

“What do you mean-oh.” Wanda’s eyes widened as she stared at the hanging mess of nylon and leather straps hanging from the heavy bag hook on the ceiling. “Oh my god.”

“You like it?” you chuckled, giving Wanda’s hand a slight squeeze.

“Oh my god,” she repeated. You felt her hand slip from yours as she carefully made her way over to the middle of the room. Wanda brushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she eyed the set-up with a keen sense of curiosity.

“Now if you really don’t want another gift, I can always take it back,” you teased, cheekily shoving your hands in your pockets, watching Wanda stare awestruck at the swing in the middle of the room.

“Don’t you dare,” Wanda warned. “Where on earth did you find one of these?” she asked, reaching up to run her fingers through the straps.

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

She gave you a look.

“The internet. Some website. Google suggested it.”

Wanda’s look turned into a smirk. The nylon straps danced through her fingers as she continued to examine her newest present. You felt your heart slowly creeping up your throat the longer you stared at the straps twirling through your girlfriend’s fingers.

“You remembered.”

“Wanda, how could I forget?” Your heart threatened to burst out the side of your neck as blood rushed through every part of your body.

“And this is why you wanted the boys to stay with Vision this weekend?” “Do you want to keep asking questions or do you want to try it out?”

Her lips crashed into yours before you could get another thought out. Instinctively your hands found their way to her waist, pulling her body flush against yours. She sighed into your mouth, her soft hands gently tugging at your hair. No matter how many times you did it, kissing Wanda never got old. Each kiss was a new experience, a new sensation that you perpetually craved. She was the most entrancing woman in the entire world and she was all yours.

“So how does this work?” Wanda asked breathlessly as you nibbled on the sensitive spot under her jaw.

“Dunno,” you mumbled between kisses, your grip on Wanda tightening as soon as you felt her swoon ever so slightly. “I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

“This won’t fall down, right?” she asked. Her hands trailed down from your head to the buttons at the front of your shirt. You shook your head, recoiling slightly as you felt her cold hands brush your chest as she tore at your clothes.

“Hope not.” You undid the button on her jeans, your fingers slinking inside the waistband.

“Hope not?”

“I mean it should be good. Don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

Wanda chuckled as she shook her head. She knew that you would’ve double and triple checked to make sure the swing wouldn’t fall down the second she got into it.

“So how do I get in? Do I just-?”

“I think you just sit back into it and put your legs in the straps,” you replied, stepping out of your jeans and boxers and kicking them behind you.

Wanda, now in her long sleeve shirt and panties, carefully looked behind her as she grabbed the leather support straps and allowed herself to sink into the swing. She fell back with an emphatic oomph, tentatively repositioning herself as the two of you prayed she wouldn’t immediately come crashing down.

“How is it?” you asked, slinking over to the swing and positioning yourself between her legs.

“It’s actually pretty comfortable,” she observed. “Can you help me get my legs up?”

“Yeah, but let’s get these off first,” you replied, teasing the palm of your hand between her legs. Wanda whimpered at your touch, a jolt of excitement running through her body as her hips bucked into your hand. You smirked at her as you pulled off the lace garment, tossing it over your shoulder. “Leg.”

Wanda lifted her leg up as you grabbed the extended stirrup, guiding her foot through the loop so that her leg sat bent against the swing. You gently grabbed her other leg unprompted, guiding it to the same position.

“I am definitely going to feel that tomorrow,” Wanda joked. She reached one hand forward and grabbed your cock.

“Oh yeah?” you stifled a slight groan as she began to pump her hand up and down your length.

“I’ve already got that bad hip, Y/N. Let’s see how much more damage you can do.”

You felt yourself twitch under her grip, hardening as you rocked into her hand. Luckily you were able to grab the metal bar at the top of the swing to steady yourself.

“You okay there?” she teased. You groaned in response, leaning forward to capture her lips between yours. She smiled into the kiss, knowing full well the intoxicating effect she had on you.

“You gonna keep distracting me or are you gonna let me-?”

“If you don’t put that inside me soon I may actually die.”

“Somebody’s dramatic.” “It’s my birthday, I can be as dramatic as I want today.”

“Is that so?” You grabbed the base of your cock, positioning yourself against her entrance.

“Mmhmm,” she nodded.

Instead of pushing yourself inside her, you rubbed your head against her folds, coating yourself in the wetness that was pooling between her legs. Wanda threw her head back and groaned. She gripped the straps tightly as you teased her, dipping the tip inside briefly before pulling out and sliding around her clit.

“Is this what you wanted, Wands?”

“Y/N, please,” she pleaded in a tone that was uncharacteristically whiny.

With little warning, you pressed yourself into Wanda, her slick folds parting with ease as you buried your length inside her. The feeling of her warm, wet walls around you elicited a groan from the deepest part of your core.

“Oh my god,” Wanda groaned, her eyes rolling back as you entered her at an entirely new angle for the first time. “Baby, oh my god.”

“That okay?” you asked.

“Move,” she ordered as she screwed her eyes shut.

You didn’t need to be told twice. Taking a firm grip on the straps, you rolled your hips into her. The moan that erupted from her lips was pornographic. Her body strained and tightened as your cock rubbed against the most sensitive part of her walls. She squeezed against you as you thrust in and out, forcing you to work harder than normal.

“Fuck,” you gasped, biting your lip as Wanda’s wetness engulfed you over and over again.

“Right there, Y/N, don’t stop,” Wanda begged. Her hand came up to rest against your stomach as you picked up your pace, pounding into her slick pussy as you pulled the swing toward you.

“You feel so good, Wands.”

“I love the way your cock feels inside me, baby. You always-fuck, that’s the spot right there-” Wanda let out a groan, unable to finish her thought as you pulled against the swing, changing the angle ever so slightly.

“You like that?” you gritted through clenched teeth, attempting to stave off your impending orgasm.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, arching her back against the swing. “Keep going, just like that.”

“Wanda, I’m gonna cum,” you whined. “Should I pull-”

“Inside. Please. Fill me up. I want to feel you finish inside me.”

Wanda’s words drove you over the edge. You groaned loudly as you came inside her, painting her with your seed. The sensation of being filled with your cum sent Wanda over the edge, too. She moaned your name over and over as you filled her up, squeezing every last drop from you.

The two of you came down from your highs in a sweaty tangle of naked bodies and leather and nylon. You collapsed on top of her, panting into her chest as your legs buckled under the ecstasy of your orgasm. Wanda leaned back, rubbing her hands through her hair as she struggled to control her breathing.

“Best birthday present ever,” she panted. “I am so sending the boys to Vision’s more often.”

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. I don’t think it’s possible for us to use this quietly,” you chuckled. “I’ve never heard you moan like that before.”

“That’s because you just gave me the best orgasm I’ve ever had.”

“So what I’m hearing is I need to cum inside you more often.”

“What you’re hearing is I need you to have your way with me in this swing more often.”

“Round two then?” you quipped.

“You’re on.”

#wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff fic #scarlet witch fic #wanda maximoff x male reader #wanda x male reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x male reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x y/n #self reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #marvel #mcu #marvel fanfiction #therealdisneyfan2319

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absolutewhore101 · 8 months

Text

Gorgeous

A/N: my first CM fic! obviously had to make it about my favorite boy <3. based on Gorgeous by Miss Swift herself.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!Reader

Summary: Spencer's just so... gorgeous

Warnings: alcohol consumption, taylor swift references

Word Count: 1.0K

Minors DNI

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Another day, another case finished.

The last case had weighed heavily on all of you - children being involved didn’t make it easy for anyone.

The flight back to Virginia was silent, everyone trying to process the events that had transpired over the last week. It was Emily who finally broke the silence.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I need a stiff drink after that case. Anyone willing to join me?”

Derek was the first to agree, followed quickly by Penelope who (unfortunately for her) had to join the rest of you in the field, and soon enough, everyone was buzzing at the thought of getting drunk enough to forget everything.

You turned to Spencer who was sitting next to you, asking him quietly if he could give you a ride home later. Spencer never drank all that much when going out with the team, so he’d become your personal designated driver, and he was thrilled about it.

“Of course.” He responded, just barely above a whisper. “Gotta make sure you get home safe, can’t be down our most valuable team member.” He threw the last part in to offset the true intention of his words - that he would do anything to keep you safe, not because you were on the team, but because you were you.

Your mind started reeling with the thought of being alone with Spencer, just like it did every single time. You smiled at him before returning to your book.

—

“Woah!” Spencer said, watching you throw back another drink. “I know you’re not driving, but maybe you should slow down a little.”

“Oh, Spence,” you started, “I just love how smart you are.” You slurred as you fell into him. “My name’s Doctor Spencer Reid and I can tell you anything about everything.” You mimicked.

Spencer smiled, too flattered to find it offensive.

“Did you know it only takes 6 minutes for your brain to start reacting to alcohol?” He asked you.

He watched as you thought about it, before ultimately declaring, “I don’t believe you.”

He laughed, “you don’t believe me?”

“Nope,” you said, pushing away from him, “not a single word.” Spencer smiled, watching as you stumbled over to the girls. He could tell from the look on your face and the reactions from your audience that you were making fun of his fun fact. Still, he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about it.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, for the most part. The only thing you really remembered was Spencer putting you to bed and promising to wake you up when breakfast was ready.

True to his word, you emerged from your bedroom to the smell of pancakes and bacon, and it almost cured the headache you couldn’t ignore.

Almost.

“There’s some aspirin on the counter with some water,” he gestured, “I figured you’d probably need it.”

You smiled at him and walked over to where he pointed, your eyes never once leaving his frame. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that hung off his lanky frame. His hair was all sorts of messy, and he had to keep pushing it back off of his forehead.

You couldn’t help yourself as you gravitated towards him, all but leaning into him as you stood in front of the stove.

“You okay?” He asked. “Do you want to go back to bed? You look like you're about to take me down.”

You laughed at his comment.

Maybe he should think about the consequence of his magnetic field being just a little too strong.

“I’m okay.” You responded, playfully cheering as he flipped a pancake. Breakfast was had in silence, and eventually the two of you were making your way over to Rossi’s for “team bonding,” as Penelope had called it.

—

As soon as you walked through the door you were being swept away by the girls, following them outside to the patio.

“Did he spend the night?” Emily asked.

“What happened?!” JJ all but yelled.

“Ladies, she was drunk. So if Dr. Reid tried anything…” Penelope threatened.

“Don’t worry, Pen, nothing happened. He put me to bed and then made me breakfast, that’s it.”

Emily and JJ looked at each other as Penelope started to giggle.

“Did you talk to him?” JJ asked.

You gave her a confused look.

“He was in my apartment, of course I talked to him.”

Emily hummed. “Did you have an actual conversation or did you say about 2 whole words?”

You glanced down as you started fidgeting with your hands.

“2 whole words.” You mumbled, causing the three of them to break into a fit of laughter.

“Stop!” You playfully yelled at them. “How am I supposed to say anything to his face? I mean, have you SEEN his face?!”

Spencer, who had inadvertently listened to the whole conversation, immediately flushed a deep red, much to Morgan’s amusement.

“I told you she liked you, wonder boy.” He teased, ruffling Spencer’s hair as he walked away.

“God, I never would’ve guessed that your type was nerds.” Emily commented.

“Don’t say it like it’s a bad thing!” You retorted.

“I mean, the way you were mimicking him last night made it seem like you thought he was pretty… lame.”

“What? No! I think he’s so cool! It actually makes me hate him… just a little bit.”

The girls laughed, but the conversation quickly ended as the boys started to make their way outside. Spencer quickly found a seat next to you, sitting close enough that you could feel his body heat seeping through your shirt.

Oh. My. God.

“Now, what were you girls up to out here?” Rossi asked. He didn’t get an answer, only a chorus of giggles from the four of you.

—

Spencer hadn’t been home for an hour when his doorbell rang. He made his way over, hoping to open it to find you standing on the other side, but he only found a vase of flowers on his doorstep.

Confused, he picked them up and brought them inside, trying to find the note card.

“Carnations,” he mumbled, setting the vase on his counter.

Did you know that carnations symbolize love and fascination? Of course you did… Anyways, Spence, I just wanted to let you know that you’re ruining my life-

“Wait, what?” He panicked.

-by not being mine. Movies this weekend? -Your One and Only

P.S. you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tell me your thoughts! Thank you for reading :)

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic

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hotvintagepoll · 12 days

Text

Propaganda

Elizabeth Taylor (Cleopatra, Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof)—iconic actress with purple eyes and a double row of eyelashes, the real ebony dementia ravenway of old hollywood. known for her stunning tastes when it comes to jewelry and her incredible, incredible advocacy during the AIDS crisis.

Clara Bow (Wings, It)—The original It Girl (literally), Clara was the epitome of a flapper film star. She was obviously a looker, but it was her acting that won over hearts. Watch the movie It (no clowns) to get a sense of her charms. And while she's most known for her silents, (including Wings, the winner of the first ever Best Picture Academy award) she did make some talkies! Contrary to popular belief, sound films didn't ruin her career; she reportedly just hated the process of making them. She had a really interesting background and it's a shame she's not as well remembered as others of her time.

This is round 3 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Elizabeth Taylor:

I've been trying to steer clear of the absurdly-big names, but damnit, those violet eyes got me. The *talent*, the *presence*, the string of marriages and (temporally out-of-bounds) work in combating AIDS and pioneering in the concept of the celebrity fragrance line.

Not only did she have gorgeous violet eyes and lashes for days and one of the hottest voices ever, she was also a big supporter of the gay community

Child actress turned starlet, Liz dominated films as one of the greatest screen legends of classic hollywood. If your protagonist has violet eyes, they're imitating hers.

A Legend. She was serving milf rage in Whos Afraid Of Virginia Woolf. A Star in every sense of the word.

She was renowned for the beauty of her eyes; they were a dark blue but could look violet in certain lighting, something that photographers would actually touch up to look even more so in pictures. But even more striking was a genetic mutation that gave her a double row of eyelashes. She was also famed for her string of husbands -- 8 marriages to 7 men. Two-time hubby Richard Burton once said she was “a wildly exciting love-mistress… beautiful beyond the dreams of pornography.”

Her EYES. Early and loud support for gay rights and AIDS victims. Married a bunch of hot dudes, Burton twice!

just look at her. she's gorgeous. there's a video somewhere of her applying her eyeliner in the mirror and I think about it all the time

THE Hollywood actress of all time. Not only was she known for her long dark locks and blue-violet eyes, she also had one of the wildest life stories ever….. She’s Carrie Fisher’s stepmother because her father Eddie Fisher cheated on Debbie Reynolds with Liz. She was knighted as a dame of England. She was married to seven different men, one of them twice. She was also very kindhearted and did a lot of charity activism.

Asides from being an iconic actor, she did a lot of philanthropy and co founded the American Foundation for AIDS research. She’s sometimes considered one of the last great stars of old hollywood

Clara Bow:

The original it girl! Flapper icon! She's sooo fun and charming and confident, it just shines through any film or picture you see of her.

I love love love her genderbendy boy style and her cute twinkly performances!! watch wings i s2g she absolutely brings it

She has gorgeous doe eyes, how can you not love her?

She's literally THE It Girl. Like actually, she's the term's namesake. She was an extremely prolific silent film actress with a reputation for wild behavior who defined the 20s flapper era. Her boyish frame, androgynous style, and red curly hair were widely emulated.

#clara bow #elizabeth taylor #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3

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ddejavvu · 10 months

Note

i’ve never heard anyone talk about this but there’s an episode of cm where the bau has to turn around on the jet and aaron says “i’ll inform the pilot” sooooooooooo i’m feeling pilot!reader who’s super confident and always flirts with him PLEASE

disclaimer: i don't fly planes i don't know the process of rerouting mid-flight but i tried my darndest

It's not every day that a case is solved before the BAU even land, but this unsub wasn't as smart as everyone thought he would be. He'd revisited his third crime scene just in time for the police to show up, and he won't be getting out of prison anytime soon.

Derek lets out a scoff of a laugh at the man's idiocy, already reaching for his headphones, "I guess we've got our weekend after all. Prentiss, you ever gonna tell me what sin to win means?"

Aaron stands as Emily narrows her eyes at Derek, a smirk curling over her lips, "There are some questions, Morgan, that if you have to ask, it means you probably couldn't handle the answer."

Before Derek can fire back Hotch heads for the curtain, "Alright, you two. That's enough. I'm going to go tell the pilot we can turn around. They'll need to reroute us."

There's a hum of acknowledgement that circles the jet, and Aaron passes through the snack station, rapping his knuckles gently on the door to the cockpit.

A green light flashes over the doorframe and a bell chimes, the door unlocking automatically with the press of a button inside.

"Y/N," Aaron greets you, on a first-name basis from calling you to work alone. He tries joking, something he forgets to do sometimes at work, "Just kidding. We're headed back to Virginia, can you pull a u-turn in an airplane?"

You turn to grin at him, face peeking out from the side of the headrest, "What, you forget your toothbrush?"

He's glad his joke went over well, and he laughs at your own, a smile gracing his features, "They don't need us anymore. Are you able to reroute us mid-air? Or will we have to land first?"

"If there's not much air traffic we can turn," You hum, peering at diagrams and screens that Aaron doesn't understand, "But if it's busy we'll just have to land and set up another flight path."

"Understood," He nods, checking his phone that looks comically small in his large hands, "When will you know?"

"Right," You hum, analyzing the display in front of you, and checking a note you've made for yourself on a sticky note that's stuck to your seat, "Now. I think we can make it without landing, but we'll have to wait for a commercial flight to pass. Shouldn't take longer than 20 minutes to turn, then an hour to get back."

"Thank you," Aaron heaves a relieved sigh, thankful not to have to waste more time than they already have, "You're a lifesaver. I owe you one, really."

"Breakfast in bed," You decide, your shit-eating grin only widening, "Hey, next time you're on a case, we'll share a hotel room. That'll make it easy for you."

Aaron doesn't know exactly how to respond to such a bold statement. He's bold himself, but not with flirting. He feels his cheeks heat up and prays you can't see it, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he calculates his response.

"Pancakes or waffles?"

"Waffles," You laugh, "And whipped cream."

"Mm, okay," Aaron pretends to deliberate, headed back to the doorway, "Over the top, or on the side?"

"It's not for the waffles," You chime, and Aaron is infinitely glad you're turned around again to face the display in front of you, because it means you don't see him trip over the base of the doorway, "Why else do you think we're sharing a room, Hotchner?"

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

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constantlyembarrassed · 10 months

Text

Just Some Light Stalking

Summary: Penelope has been pushing Spencer Reid to get some form of social media for years. Suddenly, he has an Instagram acount?

Paring: Spencer Reid x Reader

Authors Note: Hi! This is my first post! If you see this please interact :) I would love to meet more people in this community! Oh and the "..." show the change to the alternating story or time.

Warnings: None

Spencer had never been one for cell phones. Let alone social media. Despite Penelope's constant insistence, Spencer only used his cell for the occasional work call.

Yet, there it was. Spencer Reid's Instagram account. The profile wasn't blank. Minimal, yes, but not blank. The account had a profile picture, name, and, pronouns. But just one. One tagged post from its only follower.

. . .

"Pleaseeee," you begged. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his bisep, leaning all your body weight on Spencer. His opposite hand held your white heels and clutch from the night as you walked home. "It won't kill you, Spence."

"Actually, Mobile phones release radiofrequency energy, or radio waves, that can be absorbed by bodily tissues. In the past, studies have linked heavy mobile phone use to certain brain tumors. Not to mention the chemical effects-," Spencer began. Somehow, he still managed to use his hands (though full) while speaking.

"Spencer," you loudly interjected. Dragging out the "r" in his name as you spoke.

"Why is using social media so important?" He said, furrowing his eye brows.

"Because."

"Y/n, because, is the worst explanation you could possibly provide," Spencer chuckled.

. . .

Why would Spencer Reid have an Instagram account. More importantly, why was he not following his favorite tech analyst ... or JJ, Emily, Morgan, Rossi, even Hotch. His only Follower was someone named, y/n? Who was y/n? Why didn't Garcia know y/n?

Y/n. A college girl in Virginia. Class of 2025. Recent posts for the school rivalry game, her cat, her birthda- .

"Oh. My. God" Garcia said out loud. Her fingers had stopped typing to stare blankly at the screen. "Oh my god," she repeated. "Oh my god, oh my god!" Now she fully stood up, frantically shaking her hands.

The cover photo was your favorite of the night. The club lighting was dark, almost black. Purely lit by the disposable flash. Your dress was white, covered with blue and green flowers. You were blowing out the "21" cake candles. Spencer sat to the left, his arm resting on the back of your chair. A smile of pure adoration across his face as he watched you. The only post Spencer Reid's Instagram account was tagged in. Posted by y/n. His only follower.

Almost immediately, the line boomed,"DEREK MORGAN!"

"Whoa-Whoa, baby girl, what's wrong?" He said in a concerned tone.

"Did you know?" She spoke accusingly. "Did you know about her. How could you not tell me. Me of all people. I love love. I -" She said overdramatically.

"Garcia, you know I love you, but I have no idea what you're talking about." He replied, smirking.

"How, Derek Morgan, could you not tell me about boy wonder's girlfriend!"

. . .

"My man!" Derek exclaimed. He walked through the bull pen with an extra pep in his step the next mroning. Spencer grimaced at the call while sipping his coffee. "A little birdy told me something," he followed with a rythem in his voice. A large grin was spread on his face.

"Oh, Do tell." Prentiss said comming from the kitchen with a fresh cup.

"Pretty Ricky here, has been holding out on us." Derek said, gesturing to Spencer.

"Holding out?" An anoyed Spencer replied.

"Spencer Reid's got a girlfriend." Derek declared.

Spencer's shock manifested as he almost spit out the coffee he was drinking, clumsily fumbling with the cup.

Once Spencer finally regained a shred of composure, he swolowed hard, licking his lips before frantically asking,"h-how did you even?".

"You may be the genius, but I know all." Garcia said, smirking at the good doctor as she headed to the round table.

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wrenreid · 1 year

Text

Hands-on Learning

synopsis: Spencer Reid’s best friend pays him a visit in DC. She meets his coworkers and they spend quality time together while she’s in town. But their friendly dynamic changes with he asks her a question she was not expecting. (season 2 glasses reid)

word count: 4k

content: 18+ MDNI, oral (f receive), penetration

Spencer has been begging me to come visit him again since the last time I was in D.C. six months ago. And I won't admit it to him, but I've been dying to see him again so much it physically pains me. Going six months without seeing your best friend is the worst feeling in the world, but I'd take the emotional turmoil any day because it's for him.

And I suppose he's worth sitting on this plane, lodged between a sleeping old woman and a man who has gotten up to pee ten times since take off. I must really love him because I'm only an hour into this five hour flight.

Spencer and I met when we were 18. I'd just started my freshman year at CalTech and was in an advanced class with a bunch of 22 year olds. My eye caught his immediately. He was the only person my age in the lecture hall.

I sat next to him and told him my name. I knew I had to make him my friend because he was the only other freshman in the class.

Or so I thought. I didn't know until a month into our friendship that he was indeed not a freshman, and he was taking the class for fun while he worked on his second PhD. A small part of me hated him that instant, but I had already fallen into the Spencer Reid charm. I couldn't get rid of him, no matter how hard I tried (which was not very hard at all.)

We became close pretty fast. Almost every moment we weren't in separate classes, we were together. I was pretty much his only friend and he was the first person I met in uni, and probably the only one to accept me a hundred percent as I was. Being so far from home was hard, and he made it worth it.

Usually we'd do homework or watch scary movies in his single dorm room, which I totally took advantage of. I'd spend the night with him instead of my over-sharing roommate who thought I needed to know every detail about her and her long relationship with her boyfriend Kyle, specifically the phone sex. TMI.

My other friends would joke about how we were in love, but the truth is, we weren't. Not in that way at least. He was my best friend, and I was his. We were there for every big moment in each other's lives.

Well, not every big moment. Spencer was not invited when I finally lost my virginity during spring break of freshman year. But he was there when the guy I'd hooked up with broke my heart. And he bought me ice cream and told me stupid facts until my lips broke into a smile.

I was there when he got his second and third PhDs far quicker than any graduate student should. And he was there when I graduated with my masters in psychology and cognitive science.

"You're a nerd too," Spencer said, his voice teasing as he bumped my shoulder. "You can admit it now that we're done with this place."

I told him to shut up, but a wide grin was plastered on my face. We'd made it through the highs and lows of college together.

However, that grin was soon replaced with tears. Spencer had gotten a job offer with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI headquarters in Quantico, Virginia. He was going to the academy, and I was starting my research job. He was going to the east coast, and I was staying in California.

"You're leaving me," I said through tears, knowing me guilt tripping him was wrong. But I needed him to stay.

"I'm leaving California, not you," he said, his eyebrows knit together with worry. I could tell it was eating up at him, but I couldn't stop hating the situation. Losing my best friend was the absolute last thing I wanted.

The day he left, I drove him to the Las Vegas airport after he said goodbye to his mom. I didn't help him get his bags, instead I stood there moping. As I watched my best friend walk away, I realized I needed to be happy for him. He was excited about this opportunity, and my bitchiness was ruining that for him.

It wasn't romantic movie-esk the way I ran after him. It was more of an anxiety filled scene where snot ran down my face as I chased him down. Honestly, I probably looked like a stalker.

"Spencer," I breathed out, looking up at him.

He smiled softly. "I knew you wouldn't let me leave without giving me a proper goodbye," he teased.

I shouldn't have taught him teasing and sarcasm. It's bitten me in the ass so many times.

I wrapped my arms around him, ignoring his comment. My face pressed against his chest as his arms held me close. My eyes were closed and I steadied my breathing. Even though he was going what seemed like a million miles away, he'd always be my best friend.

And that's stayed true even three years later. We've kicked this long distance shit in the ass. Of course, we don't talk as much as we'd like, but we still talk. And whenever he can, he visits me in LA after seeing his mom, or I take a visit to the nation's capital just to see my favorite FBI agent.

——

"Every time I see you, you look different," I say with a chuckle as Spencer helps me get my bags into his guest room.

"Is that a bad thing?" He questions, eyebrows furrowed.

"Take it as you will," I say, plopping down on his couch.

He joins me shortly after. He really does look different. He's gained some weight, changed his style up just a little, his hair is parted at the side almost neatly, and he's finally wearing glasses again. Except these ones are far different from the ones he wore in college. These ones are kind of hot, but I won't tell him that because I can't feed the genius's ego any more.

"So," I say, wiggling my eyebrows. "Tell me about your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Spencer says, his cheeks already turning pink.

I roll my eyes. "Tomato, tomahto."

"Y/n," he warns.

"Fine, fine. Topic for another time. Don't forget, I'm here all week, Dr. Reid," I flash him a grin.

He sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes.

"You know you've missed me," I say, leaning my head on his shoulder.

He shakes his head, but a small smile creeps up onto his lips. He's missed me. But rather than admitting that he asks, "What would you like to do tonight?"

"Food. What's the best restaurant in the city?"

"The best or my favorite?" He asks. "Because they're different."

"Your favorite," I request, a soft smile on my face.

Spencer nods. "Alright. I'll let you nap off the plane drowsiness, then we'll have dinner."

The smile on my face grows wider. He knows me so well.

After my way-longer-than-I-intended nap, we get ready for dinner. I don't dress up fancy because Spencer has seen me at my worst, drunk, crying, and throwing up.

That was the one time I've ever seen him drink. I drug him to a party that we both ended up hating. We left early and instead bought our own liquor. He'd just turned 21, and I used that to my advantage.

Spencer and I ended up drunk in his dorm room. Surprisingly, he handled his alcohol much better than I did. I got wasted and threw up in his sink before making it to his toilet to repeat the action. He held my hair back as tears streamed down my face from the burning in my throat. Then, he threw up from the sight of me vomiting. It was not our finest moment.

"Ready to go?" Spencer asks, coming into the restroom where I'm touching up my makeup.

"Sure am, doc."

The dinner is amazing. He catches me up on all things BAU cases before asking me how my promotion has been, which is, in simple words, pretty damn great.

——

"Oh you're not Spencer," says a way too handsome black man as I open the apartment door.

"Nope. I'd like to think I'm prettier," I joke.

"Yes, you are," he flashes me a smile.

The footsteps behind me halt. "Don't even think about it, Morgan," Spencer says, a warning tone present in his voice.

The man in front of me holds his hands up in defense, the charming smile still on his face.

"This is Morgan? You did not describe him this hot," I turn to my best friend.

He glares at me. "You also don't even think about it."

I laugh softly and offer my hand out to Derek.

"Y/n. Nice to finally meet you."

His firm grip shakes my hand. "So you're the competition I have as Reid's best friend."

"In the flesh," I grin. "And it's no competition. I've got years on you."

"Ooh she's bold. I like her," he says.

I haven't had the opportunity to meet all of Spencer's coworkers because of both of our busy schedules and us making sure to spend every second together while I visit. I've met his boss one time and friend JJ. I liked them. I know enough about everyone from Spencer's stories to know that he's in good hands.

"Did you need something?" Spencer asks his friend.

"Oh right. Yeah I was just going to see if you wanted to come out with us, but I see you are occupied," Morgan says, looking to me.

"Go out where?" I ask, not letting Spencer respond.

"Bar. To drink and play games."

"That sounds fun! We'll be there," I say.

Spencer fake coughs behind me, and I turn to my best friend. He gives me a look.

"C'mon, Spence. It'll be fun. I want to get to know your team."

He can't say no to me. "Fine. But let's not stay out too long, okay? You know you can't handle your alcohol."

"Hey, I've grown up since college," I chuckle.

——

“Have you two ever...?" Spencer's gorgeous dark haired friend asks me as she takes a swig from her glass. She cuts her eyes to Spencer, then back to me.

He's currently at the bar with Morgan who's attempting to flirt with the pretty bartender.

"What? No! God no," I laugh, shaking my head.

"Hm," Emily hums. "I just thought I sensed something."

"Nope. He's my best friend. Why mess with that?" I smile softly.

"So you've thought about it?" She's nosy. I can't blame her, I am too.

"No," I answer.

That's the first lie I've told to Spencer's friends. Of course I've thought about it. I don't think anyone has been friends with an attractive person without thinking about what would happen if the relationship dynamic changed. My best friend's kind of hot. I know that. Before we were close, I debated on asking him out. But we're just friends. We're best friends. And nothing is going to change that.

I get to know Spencer's friends a little more, get slightly tipsy, and start a game of darts with Morgan.

After he beats me, not by much I'd like to add, we're just about to start a rematch, but a hand touches my back lightly. I turn around to face Spencer, and a soft smile creeps up onto my lips.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Can we head back? It's getting late," he asks, checking his watch.

I nod, brushing my hair behind my face. "Sure, but tell Morgan I totally could've beaten him in a rematch."

Spencer laughs softly. "She could've," he says to Derek behind me who rolls his dark brown eyes.

"Getting old, doc?" I ask Spencer as we walk to his car. He's 99% sober, so he drives us back to his apartment.

I sit in the passenger's seat, hands folded in my lap. My eyes are on him.

"Hm?"

"Why'd we leave so early?"

"10:30 is when the guys in the bar start getting drunker and handsy. I didn't want you to get dragged into some asshole's grasp while dancing," he explains.

"Oh," I nod. "I can handle myself, you know that right? Just because you're a big federal agent now doesn't mean I need you to protect me." My voice is thorough, but a small smile is on my lips anyway.

"Just returning the favor, Y/n," Spencer says. He knows I protected him all throughout our shared college days.

My cute going-out clothes have begun to get uncomfortable. I unclasp my bra, keeping my somewhat sexy shirt on and slip it off from underneath the blouse, letting it fall to Spencer's floorboard.

"Much better," I breathe out an exasperated sigh.

He's silent in his seat, eyes on the road. I see his hands grip the steering wheel a little harder.

"I missed you a lot," I say honestly. Usually I'm not one to say what I'm feeling or be mushy gushy, but the two shots of tequila have opened me up.

His eyes flick to me, his lips formed in a soft smile. His face is being lit up by the passing cars' headlights. I can see how sharp his cheekbones are, his jawline. "I thought you were heartless."

"I take back my previous statement."

"I missed you too," Spencer says.

"Of course you did, I'm a delight," I gloat.

The sound of his soft laughter fills the air. It pulls on the strings in my chest.

"How is it possible that I leave in three days already?"

"Shh," he shakes his head, eyes still on the road ahead of him. "Don't mention that right now." Spencer's hand pats my knee before squeezing it comfortingly.

——

"I have a question," Spencer says, coming into his room where I'm currently laying on his bed, reading a book I grabbed off one of his many shelves.

I look up from the page I'm on. He looks nervous, cheeks red, his hands fiddling with themselves.

"Hit me," I say.

He sits down at the edge of the bed. "I don't really know how to ask this... It's a weird question. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, and..."

"Spit it out, Spencer,” I eye him.

"Could you... would you tell me how to please someone. Specifically a woman. During sex."

A huffed laugh releases from me, and his cheeks burn redder. I think I'm blushing too. "What?"

"I'm sorry. That was weird. Forget I said-" he starts softly.

"Have you never...?"

Spencer shakes his head.

I didn't really think he had, but I didn't ever expect him to tell me when or if he lost his virginity anyway. He's reserved, even with me with some things.

"Wait," I sit up straighter. "Is this about your girlfriend?"

"Not my girlfriend," Spencer corrects me. "But yeah. We have a date the night you leave, and I think she's going to expect it. I mean, this is our fourth date."

"Well, if you don't want to have sex, don't have sex," I say sternly.

"It's not that I don't. It's just that I've never done it. I don't know what to do. I've read, and I'm good at anatomy. But what if I'm bad at the physicality of it all?" He presses his lips together, his teeth gnawing on the inside of his bottom lip.

"I don't really know how to explain it," I chuckle nervously. The blood is rushed to my cheeks, they're probably scarlet. "It just kind of happens."

"I shouldn't have asked," Spencer says.

"No, it's just that... like with anything, practice helps people get good sex," I tell him.

He looks up at me, his eyes asking what his lips won't. I feel my heart pounding against my chest, faster than usual.

"Do you want me to... show you?" I ask. He has always preferred hands-on learning.

"Would you?"

I nod slowly, hesitantly.

He moves toward me slowly, hesitantly.

"Kiss me," I tell him, hoping this won't get too weird.

Spencer and I have been best friends for years, we're extremely close, but this may bring us too close. This could ruin everything, but for some reason, I can't stop it.

He presses his lips to mine gently, his hand cupping my face. My eyes flutter closed. I reciprocate the kiss, and it's a lot easier than I imagined. Not that I've entirely imagined it.

My hands trail up his arms slowly. He's gained muscle. I guess that's a part of his FBI agent glow up. His tongue roams my mouth, and I'm pleasantly surprised by how good of a kisser he is.

He pulls away after a few minutes. He's breathing heavy. "Are you sure this is okay?"

I nod, then lean in to kiss him again but he leans back.

"Say it."

"It's okay, Spencer," I tell him. This time he lets me kiss him again.

I lay down, my back against his bed. He hovers above me, his hand on my waist now as he kisses me. He's good at this, and that thought comes to my mind again as his lips suck on my neck.

"Keep doing that," I whine softly.

He obliges and nibbles my skin gently. "Is this okay?" He whispers.

"Mhm," I noise.

I let him take the lead for now, do what he's comfortable with so far. His hand trails up a little further. I tell him he can touch me, and he does, though hesitantly at first. His fingertips graze against my breast before he finally gets comfortable enough to take hold of it through my shirt. He squeezes then pinches my nipple. He knows more than he lead on.

A soft moan releases from my mouth, my back arches just a little. His hand slips beneath my shirt, his warm touch on my belly. Spencer takes ahold of my shirt then lifts it up. I help him take it off me. I'm completely bare hips and above since I wasn't wearing a bra anyway. His eyes widen a little, and he smiles softly.

"Stop staring at me," I laugh a little.

"We're about to have sex and I can't look at you?"

I roll my eyes. "Let's just continue."

Spencer nods. "What do you want me to do?”

"Well, most women like to do other stuff before actually getting into the sex. Penetration alone doesn't do it for most of us," I tell him.

"You included?"

"Me included."

"What do you like?" He asks.

"What are you comfortable with? Do you have any ideas?"

Spencer thinks for a moment. "I want to learn how to-I want to give you... oral."

I burst into a laugh. "Spence, never say oral to a woman. Just say head."

"Head. Noted," he nods.

He's adorable when he's nervous and nerdy. Which is pretty much always.

"Kiss me first. Anywhere," I tell him.

He chooses the soft flesh of my stomach. I smile down at him. I reach down, pushing down my shorts, my underwear too. I'm growing needy.

Spencer slips them the rest of the way down and tosses them down to the ground. After slipping off his glasses, he kisses the inside of my thigh. God, I need him to do something right now.

His big hands push my thighs apart. Then he pauses. The clocks in his brain turn.

I feel like he's just about to call this whole thing off, but then I'm hit with a shock of pleasure. His tongue licks in between my folds.

“You’re really wet,” he says, more like an observation that a tease. Then he attacks my clit with his lips after taking a second to find it. Fuck. He definitely knows more about sex than I was led to believe.

Spencer's fingers leave marks on the inside of my thighs as he grips onto them. His lips suck on my clit, tongue flicking back and forth often too.

Soft moans spill from my lips. I'm trying to be quiet. I shouldn't be enjoying this as much as I am.

The sudden shock of Spencer's mouth removing from my clit makes me whine in protest, but his fingers sliding inside me make up for it.

I groan, my head leaning back into the pillows.

“Do you like this?”

I bite my lip, “Mhm. Curl your fingers.”

He does as he’s told.

When Spencer both fingers my cunt and sucks on my clit, I'm a moaning mess. "Holy fuck, Spencer," I whine. My legs are shaking within minutes, and even though he's still sloppy and new at this, my body loves it. My hands grip into his hair.

"Just like that, Spencer. So good."

A loud moan rings out from me as I finish. I couldn't even warn Spencer before my release pours from me.

My breaths are heavy and loud. Spencer pulls away, looking up at my eyes.

"Was that okay?" His breathing is heavy too.

"No," I say. "Spencer that was fucking amazing. You've seriously never done that before?"

He shakes his head.

"Wow."

"Told you, I'm good at anatomy," he smiles bashfully.

"Take your pants off," I command. "I want you inside of me."

I find a condom in my purse as he shrugs his clothes off. I sit up and find myself staring at his bulge with wide eyes. He's bigger than I expected. Not like huge to where it's unnatural, but big enough that I will probably need a minute to adjust once he's in me.

I tell him to lay down, and he does. He's a good boy. I like it.

I help him get the condom on, then swing a leg over his lap so that I'm straddling him. "Are you ready?" I ask him, my hand holding his face gently.

He takes a second, processing that he’s about to lose his virginity. Probably freaking out a lottle that it’s to me. “Yes ma'am," Spencer nods.

"Just a gentlemen," I grin.

I lower myself onto him, and once he's inside me, I do need a minute to adjust. Moans come from both of us, and I love the sounds we make together.

"Fuck," he groans, his voice raspy. He repeats my name over and over as I start to roll my hips.

"Oh my god." My eyes shut, and I bite my lip to keep me quiet.

"Don't do that," Spencer tells me. "I want to hear it."

I give him what he wants. I bounce up and down on him, his length hitting me in the right spot every time.

Both of our sounds fill the room. Spencer holds my hips down, stopping me.

"Wha-?"

"I want to do it," he says softly. "Please."

"Do what you want with me, doctor," I tell him, nodding.

He flips our positions, and he's on top of me. Spencer's lips crash into mine as he enters me again.

I bite his lip, causing both of us to moan into each other's mouths.

Spencer doesn't last much longer since it's his first time, but I don't even mind. He rubs my clit until I come again, and I feel I'm floating.

We lay on his bed, heavy breaths morphing together. "I think you're going to blow her mind, doctor Reid," I chuckle softly.

"Who's?"

"You're girlfriend that's not your girlfriend," I say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Oh, right. I don't think I'm going on that date. Okay, actually I canceled that date when you got here."

"What?" I chuckle, confused.

"There's no date,” he says, point blank.

"Did you just trick me into sleeping with you?" My eyebrows are still furrowed, but I'm smiling.

He presses his lips together. "Well, if you put it that way... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"No, no. I admire the hustle, doc," I laugh softly, my fingertips circling on his bare chest.

Men and women can be purely platonic friends, no romantic feelings involved. But maybe Spencer and I aren’t that type of friends after all.

tags: @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @kylakins88 @jazzerbelle14 @cynbx @yazzyu @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @sebs-oxygen @jolotta @booktvmoviefangirl @nevielei @pauline5525mgg @necromaniackat @r3idsp3ncer

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majorbaby · 2 months

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it takes a conscious effort to break your patterns of consumption and unlearn the notion beauty, interiority, diverse ways of existence aren't exclusive to whiteness or maleness. part of that isn't your fault. certain music is played on the radio, certain shows survive cancellation no matter what, certain people seem to be able to commit the worst possible acts against other human beings and are excused on account of their creative genius. others are selectively punished, with good reason sure, but still, selectively.

now more than ever it's easier to immerse yourself in art made by people outside of the mainstream. reading lists, free resources, playlists... all this stuff is more accessible than ever, but you've got to make an effort to give it a try. it's black history month, the recs are pouring in, go have a look. or take a chance on something absolutely no one has recommended anywhere and if you find something you like, rec it to someone else because the likelihood is they haven't heard of it.

tracy chapman's "fast car" is one of eleven songs that appears on her self-titled debut album. can you name the second hit single from it? if you're american and you fell anywhere left of center as of the 2016 election, it should be on the tip of your tongue if you were engaged in your country's politics at the time, regardless of your level of actual investment in the system. if not, the next time you're doing a task you need both hands with, washing the dishes, having dinner, doing your makeup, put that album on.

there's a post with over 100K notes on here that i see all the time of bruce springsteen and clarence clemons kissing. there's a part of that that is immediately meaningful to many if you're lgbtq, and a part that is harder for non-black lgbtq people to feel the weight of. but it is worth trying to do and was part of the reason why they kissed so often in the first place. clarence clemons was from norfolk, virginia. he released multiple albums outside of his work with the e street band. they may not be for you, but give them a try.

give enough music, or movies, or books that aren't a part of the approved canon a try, and there's no way you won't find something you don't feel as passionate about as you do about springsteen, siken, the beatles, what have you.

james baldwin was a prolific artist. see if you can't find something of his you like more than giovanni's room.

immerse yourself in ringo sheena, who mitski cites as one of her influences.

if you have difficulty paying attention to music you don't recognize, (i get it) make a playlist that alternates tracks you know and love with brand new tracks. start small. 5 faves of all time, 5 you're going to try out. you won't like everything, but you might find yourself looking forward to 6 songs instead of 5 eventually.

for movies, pick an actor whose performance you loved in something and explore their work. last year i picked whoopi goldberg, also a prolific artist, with a vast body of work that's pretty accessible as a result of her constant, intentional effort.

if you're an artist yourself, you can only stand to improve by getting to know your fellow artists better. so expand your notion of what art is. you can do it for free in lots of cases, and you're spending that time listening to music or reading or watching movies or series anyway, what have you got to lose?

anti-racism sometimes means engaging in real-world narratives of pain endured by brown and black people. that pain permeates much of our art, but we're just as three-dimensional as everybody else, and every aspect of our experiences come through in our work. you know that already, because what else is happening when you indulge in various genres. for everything you love or enjoy, there's a brown or black person who's doing something along those lines, in many cases, those genres wouldn't exist in their current form without the influence of our communities, some more than others, depending on where you're from. you can actually keep one foot inside your comfort zone and dip your toe into something else. that choice is both a joy and a luxury.

#im saying this with generosity #the best time to start was ten years ago the next best time is today #hope i don't regret this. lol.

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diagnosedpsychosis · 11 months

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Protective Hotch

Description: There is a copycat the BAU are after, so Hotch and reader go to prison to talk to the original offender. The prisoner makes a few suggestive comments about the reader that Hotch doesn't like.

Made up, not a CM episode.

Word Count: 2.5k

______________________________________________________________

You had only ever stepped inside a prison a handful of times before. Literally. You could count every visit on one hand, all whilst being able to recount why you'd gone those 4 times in the first place; now 5.

The first 3 were all for the same thing, and the same person. A serial rapist and murderer you had helped catch years earlier was being interviewed, and not only did you have to supervise, but perform a psych eval on him as well.

The fourth time, you were in and out in record time. Another prisoner you'd put away had died and you were there purely to collect the few belongings in his cell. When the Warden of the Penitentiary had called you to inform you of the inmates passing, you offered to come down from Virginia. The Warden suggested not bothering, and that they'd just throw his belongings in the rubbish bin, which is exactly why you got on the earliest plane you possibly could. This particular inmate had victims he'd not told you about, and you just wanted to make sure with your own eyes he didn't name them in or on anything in his cell.

Today though, on your fifth time inside prison walls, you weren't alone. Your company came in the form of your long time workplace crush, Aaron Hotchner. The pressure of having not only your crush, but the BAU's Unit Chief with you put an immense weight on your shoulders.

Usually you weren't fazed by the cold glares and almost bored expressions. Aaron Hotchner exuded power and had subconsciously mastered the art of intimidation, but that wasn't what made the hairs on the back of your neck stand as he walked beside you, down prison halls.

It was how close beside you he walked. The outside of his arm brushed yours with each step and sway of his arms, and even though you could see, in the corner of your eye, his head facing forward, you could feel his eyes bouncing all over the place.

He stood close not because he wanted to, but because even if every cell door was closed, and every hall had 3 guards tending to it at all times, he didn't feel 100% safe, which meant he wasn't comfortable having you around. Because he knew, that if by some fluke chance the doors buzzed open, you would be every prisoners target.

He knew it. You knew it. The inmates knew it.

"Oh Hey Baby, how about taking a detour and stopping by my cell?" Somebody off to the side hollered, which lead to a loud array of crude comments made your way. You ignored them well, but Hotch seemed to take offence for you. You were almost at the end of the hall, but that didn't stop Hotch from protectively stepping even closer, almost tripping you up with how close he now was.

You both got to the door at the end of the hall, the guard standing beside it nodding at the two of you before letting you in. You walked in first, Hotch shutting the door behind himself as you stepped up to the one sided glass, looking at the man you both were about to question.

"Certainly not the kind of man I'd enjoy being alone with" You stated, Hotch stopped beside you and looking into the visitors room, his arm brushing yours again. Relatively old and greying, Martin Gould was NOT a sight for sore eyes. He wasn't attractive, which is what ended up being a factor of his killings. He'd ask a woman out, she'd reject him, he'd later stalk her, and then rape and mutilate her, in her own home.

"I wouldn't have brought you if I didn't need you. I'm not going to leave your side. I promise" Hotch told you. When you and the team had been going through victimology of the copycats and then compared them to the original killers, you'd all come to the same conclusion. You were his type, to the T.

That's why you were here. Not because your skills were valued and appreciated...but because you were this guys type, and you hated that. You hated feeling like you had to prove yourself more, in a team you'd been in for years. You worked 5 times as hard as everyone else, and yet still felt like you'd gotten nowhere at being seen as an asset to the team. Nobody had ever said it to your face, hell maybe they'd never even thought that way about you, but you were an avid overthinking pessimist.

"Everything is going to be fine" Hotch reassured you again when you didn't reply to his promise. You sighed, grabbing the door that separated you two from Martin Gould.

"Easy for you to say. He raped and mutilated 13 women" Before Hotch got time to process what you'd said and the weight of your words, you opened the door and stepped inside. Martin Gould immediately looked to you as you entered, paying little to no attention to Hotch as he followed behind, and took the seat beside you at the metal table.

"Wow. Just wow" Martin sighed, leaning forward and resting his chin on his open palm, as he stared at you like you were the brightest star in the sky. At least someone appreciated you.

"Martin, I'm SSA y/n y/l/n, and this is SSA Aaron-"

"Has anyone ever told you you've got the eyes of a rare jewel?" You ignored him, and continued on like he'd never interrupted you in the first place.

"-Hotchner. We're with the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit-"

"No ring, I don't see how that's possible. You must have men down at your feet 24/7" Martin interrupted you again, shuffling forward in his seat slightly to get closer to you.

"We're here to investigate a string of serial rape and mutilations. Same signature as yours from 7 years ago" Hotch speaks for the first time, and you both notice Martin's jaw twitch at the sound of his voice. Martin takes a breath, ignoring Hotch before smiling back at you.

"Couldn't be me, Sweetheart" Martin tells you softly, lifting his hands and showing you the chains restricting his movement.

"It's a copycat, somebody who admires you. He's probably sent you hundreds of letters over the course of the last 7 years" Martin holds his smirk as he listens to you, enjoying the sound of your voice and the way your lips move with each word.

"They would've started with him confiding in you, expressing his share of troubles involving women rejecting him. Then they would've started becoming a little more aggressive" You state, Hotch straightening his posture, one of his tells that he's about to talk.

"Probably wrote 'What is wrong with me?' over and over again" Hotch adds, Martin's smile faltering as he speaks again.

"And then his most recent letters would've been him talking about women like we're a virus. Something nasty that could be caught and had to be terminated" Martin shook his head ever so lightly, his smile growing with every second you continued talking to him. He's a classic narcissist and thinks that the fact you're talking directly to him and looking him dead on, means you're flirting with him.

"As pretty as you are, you're just like them, aren't you?" He asked slowly making you frown.

"I'm sorry?" Martin leans forward a tiny bit more, the smile on his face long gone and replaced with a look of repulsion.

"A needy whore, asking for it-"

"That's enough" Hotch stated.

"Begging for it. You all lead us on with your smiles and your glances, but then you laugh in our faces and tell us to get lost" So that's why he thought these women deserved it. Because to him, an innocent smile and a half a second passing by glance meant flirting. So when he'd walk up and randomly ask a woman out and she'd say no, he'd see her as a tease, a deceiver, someone who needed to pay.

"You're nothing less, Agent y/n y/l/n. Just a whore with a bitching, lying mouth, and a pussy asking to be-" Hotch sliding back in his chair and abruptly standing up caught you off guard more than Martin Gould's random verbal attack.

"Y/n, out" Hotch demanded, leaving no room to argue against his direct order. But you did anyway.

"No, Hotch, I'm fine-"

"Y/l/n, out or you're suspended for a week" Your face contorts with shock. Never has Hotch ever been so forward and aggressive towards you in your life and you hated how being on the receiving end of his threat made you feel.

"What?" You stood and raised your voice, finding Hotch completely unreasonable in this moment. You were with a prisoner who know who the unsub was, you could easily get it out of him, and now here he was sending you out. He brought you all this way for a couple sentences?

"You're not being forceful enough, Agent. Bend her over and teach her a-" Martin's words became background noise as Hotch took your arm, backing you up to the door of the visiting room, before opening the door and practically shoving you out. He let go before you could rip your arm from his grasp, and shut the door in your face.

Not knowing what the hell just happened and why the hell Hotch reacted like that, you storm over to the one sided glass window, and slam your palm against the button under the window that allows you to hear what is being said inside the visiting room.

"I don't care who you are, or where we are. If you ever talk to my Agent like that, ever again, I'll make you sure I am the last thing you ever see" Hotch threatened, the look on his face sending a wave of goose bumps over every inch of your burning skin. He looked furious.

"Probably not the best place to threaten killing me, Agent Hotchner" Martin stated, trying to hold back his laughter. It quickly died down at the expression adorning Hotch's face. It was almost like he was being challenged.

"I don't need to kill you to take away your sight, Gould. All I need is a speculum and a pair of scissors" Hotch replied and you watched in shock as for the first time since talking with him, Martin looked anything but cocky. Hotch used Martin's current state to his advantage.

"His name" Martin hesitated, glancing at the one way window like he knew you were standing behind it.

"Dane Hansen" The second the name left his mouth, Hotch was turning around and exiting the visiting room, only to be met with an annoyed you, giving him the cold shoulder. His eyes stayed glued to yours as he shut the door behind himself.

"Don't give me that look."

"I was given about 10 seconds from the first time you told me to get out before you threatened to suspend me. If you want me gone just say it, Hotch" You knew you were probably being unreasonable but you were annoyed. What so quickly went from 'get out' turned to 'if you don't you're suspended'. It escalated in seconds and made you wonder how long they'd been sitting on the tip of Hotch's tongue.

"Was I the only one that heard the way he talked about you?" Hotch questioned, clearly annoyed by your assumption. You take a step toward him.

"Simply sending me out of the room doesn't stop me from hearing it, Hotch" You brought attention to your hand by tapping the button again, turning off the speaker. Hotch took a step forward.

"He was getting satisfaction out of you being in the room" My presence. My face. My body. Not my skills, and Hotch knew that. He only brought me to show me off.

"Be honest with me, Hotch. Do you bring me along for these things because you think I'm the worst profiler on the team, so I won't be needed as much back there with everyone?" Hotch frowns at me, turning his head to the right slightly.

"I have never once called you a bad profiler."

"You've never called me a good one either, Aaron. Believe it or not, but I'm one of those people that need to be told they're doing good to keep doing good. I need the validation, otherwise I lose energy and end up giving a half assed effort" You immediately realised the first name slip, but if Hotch noticed it he certainly didn't show it. Instead, he takes another step that makes him dangerously close. You can smell his musky cologne, and if either of you take another step your face would be buried in his chest.

"Y/n, you're not a good profiler, you're an amazing profiler. I didn't bring you along today to show you off as a piece of meat to Gould. You're his type, but so is Prentiss. I wanted you here. I wanted you on the plane, and I wanted you in the car. I like your company, I like your perspective and I like your brain" You suck in a shaky breath, embarrassingly overwhelmed so quickly by Hotch's compliment. Even though it's only a few things, it means so much because he's not the kind of guy to get even slightly sentimental about anything.

"You think I don't notice when the overthinking side of you takes over the reasonable side? You're an asset to our team, y/n. I didn't bring you along for the benefit of the case, I brought you along for myself" Tense silence consumes the room and the air the two of you breathe. For what feels like minutes, you two stand, almost toe to toe staring at each other.

There's an achingly intense energy floating around the two of you, and before looks go any further or before either of you can slice the tension in half, Hotch's phone rings, and you both rear back at the shriek.

Your shoulders sag in disappointment and you swear you see the same with Hotch's, but he's back in boss mode too fast for you to really catch a good look as he listens to somebody on the other end of the line.

"We're just heading out now. Yeah, we got a name; Dane Hansen" Hotch ends the phone call and his eyes meet yours again as he shoves his phone back in his pocket.

"We've got to go" You press your lips into a tight smile and nod. Walking past him, you go to grab the door that'll lead you back into the hall, but before you reach it a large, warm hand wraps around your wrist stopping you.

You turn back to Hotch, and again he's toe to toe with you. His grip on your arm is soft, and the look on his face mixed with his parted lips tells you all you need to know; he wants to say something.

You don't know what he's thinking, but you also don't want to force it out of him. You smile and slowly pull away from his grip before patting his arm.

"It's okay, Aaron. Come on, let's go."

______________________________________________________________

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roosterforme · 2 months

Text

Beer Boy and Sugar: The First Lost Year (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Part of the Lost Years series for Beer Boy and Sugar

Warnings: language, longing, angst (series fits chronologically between Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time)

Banner by @mak-32

Year One

"Bradshaw."

Bradley was pulled out of his comfortable daydream when he heard Natasha Trace call his name. He looked over at the only friend he'd managed to make since he moved to Rhode Island for flight training five months ago. It turns out, nobody much wants to talk to you when you're a bit of a miserable prick.

"Yeah?"

She nodded back toward the hangar and said, "Captain Price wants us to use the simulator."

"Right," he replied softly. Once she was gone again, he turned to look out at the rough Atlantic Ocean and shivered in the late October air. He was freezing cold. He was always fucking freezing cold here. He missed Virginia. He missed being warm in his bed in his fraternity house. He missed you.

"No," he whispered, closing his eyes and focusing on some deep breathing. "No. You can't." Every thought of you was painful, and he needed to get past this. He kept promising himself that one day, he would wake up and be on the other side of this ache, but he was such a damn liar. Deep inside, he knew better.

How was it supposed to stop hurting when all he could think about was you, equally cold in Chicago, wrapped up in his Grateful Dead shirt and listening to their songs? It had already snowed there; he checked the weather frequently. He memorized the University of Chicago campus map and thought about where you might be, always afraid you were in a library study room. With someone else. Because the only thing worse than thinking about you cold and alone was thinking about you moving on with someone new. But you were perfect. Bradley's perfect Sugar. Of course you didn't need to be with him to be happy.

Eventually he turned toward the hangar and walked through the frigid wind. He completed the simulation perfectly in almost no time. Trace was every bit as good as he was, and Bradley silently rejoiced whenever they were paired together. She was serious but not too serious. She was smart but never cocky about it. She didn't waste a lot of time talking if she had nothing to say. She reminded him a lot of you.

He wasn't interested in her as anything more than the friend he desperately needed right now, but it was hard to open up to someone new when he could only think about one thing. There were a handful of really attractive women here, but Bradley found himself unable to focus on them. Besides, he finally understood that quality always beats quantity. You started teaching him that lesson as soon as he felt the urge to paint his bedroom door white.

He avoided the tables full of students in the cafeteria, picking one off to the side instead. He figured if he gave the appearance that he didn't want anyone around, then they would leave him alone. He was only mostly successful.

"Can I join you?"

When he looked up at Trace's dark brown eyes, he nodded and pulled his tray a little closer to him so she could sit on the other side of the table. "Yeah, sure."

She ate half of her food before she said anything. "Hey, thanks for not being creepy."

He looked at her calm face in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She shrugged and said, "Some of the other guys are a little creepy towards me, Hayes, O'Malley and Butler. They think it's funny to mess with the girls."

"Seriously?" Bradley asked, setting his fork down. "Which guys?" He wished he didn't feel the sudden urge to break something; he'd been able to manage this feeling for a long time, only letting it surface when he wanted to pound Jeff to bits for touching you. It would probably feel good right now if he let this emotion take over for a little bit.

"Don't worry about it," Trace replied easily. "It's nothing I can't handle. I just don't like eating alone if I can help it, because then they come over."

Bradley nodded, picking up his fork again. If there was anything you wouldn't like, it would be Bradley losing his place in the Navy because he couldn't manage to stay out of a fistfight. "You can eat with me whenever you want."

Her muttered, "Thanks," was so soft, he barely heard it. He wanted to tell her not to thank him, but the silence between them felt pretty nice. She took a few more bites before she asked, "So what's your deal, Bradshaw? You're awfully quiet for someone who can pass all of the exams on the first try and makes the simulators look easy."

He laughed. "I could say the same about you."

"I guess," she replied, "but I'm always the one initiating conversation with you, not the other way around. It's a girl, isn't it? You miss your girlfriend?"

She didn't ask it unkindly, but it felt like a slap to his face. He swallowed hard, once again wondering why this hurt so fucking bad after five goddamn months. But he'd never tried to actually talk about you with anyone else. Maybe it wouldn't be as hard as he thought it would.

He cleared his throat and looked down at his tray. "There used to be a girl. I think maybe she thought she was doing me a favor when she dumped me. Or maybe she was just trying to protect herself. And I can respect that."

"Ouch," came Natasha's soft voice, and Bradley had almost forgotten he wasn't alone. "You were in love with her."

It wasn't phrased as a question, and once again Bradley felt like she physically hit him. He had never admitted it out loud before right now. "Yeah. I was in love with her." He set his fork down one last time before he met her eyes. "I'm still in love with her."

Later that night, he cried himself to sleep, dying to hear you call him Beer Boy and push your fingers through his hair one last time. Dying to ask you why he couldn't have two dreams.

---------------------

You were twenty-two years old. You lived in one of the most exciting cities in the country. And you were single. But you never really felt like going out when the other graduate students invited you. Every time you did go, you ended up at a bar that was way too loud or a frat house that was way too uncomfortable. Nobody knew how to play beer pong correctly, and every guy was wearing a backwards cap.

It made your heart ache.

"Hey."

You looked up from your computer to see Jared staring at you with a smile on his face and his hat spun backwards on his head. "Alex and I are going to one of the library study rooms and then out to get a beer. You coming?"

Both of those things sounded amazing, actually. But not with him or Alex. Not with anybody at this school or in this city or even in the central time zone. You shook your head. "Thanks, but not tonight. Maybe next week?"

Jared looked dejected. "Aww, come on. You're too pretty to be sitting here working alone." He probably though he was being charming, but he was nowhere close to the level of sweetness you were used to.

You sighed softly and shook your head again. "Thanks but.... maybe next week."

When he finally left, you tried to return your attention to what you had been working on. There was no shortage of classwork or research to keep you busy seven days a week here, and that was a very good thing. Because it was days like this one where you started to think about Bradley and you couldn't stop. As soon as you let the memories creep in, you were done.

You closed your computer and sucked in a ragged breath. Through the blurry tears filling your eyes, you pulled up the bottom of your hoodie and ran your fingers along the soft, tie dyed cotton of the shirt you were wearing underneath. If you closed your eyes and thought about Virginia, you could almost believe the shirt still smelled like him. You could almost hear him sing what had become your favorite song.

"Shit," you muttered, standing and shoving your computer into your backpack. You would finish working from your dorm room. You just needed to get out of here right now.

The icy cold air smacked you in the face as soon as you walked outside. Apparently it started snowing in October here. It had been snowing steadily for days. You missed Virginia. You missed the stupid Beta house. You missed the way Bradley felt like your own personal furnace when he cuddled with you. Sometimes you thought you'd made the worst decision of your life.

The urge to cave and call him as soon as you got to your room and cranked up the heater was so intense. Then you remembered that you broke his heart and your own with a handful of sentences and the admission that you loved him. Well, you still loved him, but he almost certainly hated you. And that was fine. That was completely okay as long as he was focused on keeping himself safe instead of thinking about a long distance relationship. He had a dream bigger than you, and he deserved to live it out.

You curled up in a ball on your bed and listened to Easy to Love You by The Grateful Dead exactly eleven times in a row while you cried. You did the math in your head; that was just over forty minutes of crying. Last week when you broke down, it was closer to an hour. Maybe things were on the upswing now. Maybe the pain would start to fade. It had already been more than five months since you left his room while he sat on the edge of his bed, agony written on his face.

"Why?" you asked yourself angrily, certain nobody else would ever make you feel as good as he had for the handful of months you'd spent together. He taught you a lot about yourself, and now you understood the importance of giving someone a second chance. How crucial it was to look past the surface.

You buried your nose in the fabric of the colorful shirt, turned the song on one more time, and fell asleep with unshed tears and a tightness in your chest. When you woke up the next day, you found more snow on the ground when you put on your boots and jacket and headed outside. You remembered exactly where to go, because you'd seen it so many times before. You headed for the tattoo parlor near campus with a pocketful of cash and the hope that this would make you feel better and not worse.

Once you were lounging back with the Grateful Dead shirt pulled up, you pointed to your math tattoo. "I want it just below this one. It's a specific song lyric. And I want it in this font."

The tattoo artist looked at your skin and then the words you'd written out before checking the font you were pointing to in his binder which happened to look a bit like Bradley's tidy script.

"The Dead," he said with a smile. "I dig it. I can do it for a hundred bucks."

You nodded and handed him the cash, and just a few minutes later, he got to work. If he thought you were crying softly because of the pain from the needle digging into your flesh over and over again, then that was fine with you.

-----------------------------

I'm fine. We are all fine. Year two is up next.

PART 2

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