#i was debating on whether to do it or not :(

[incognit0slut]

Stress Relief

You convince your husband to take out his anger on you when he comes home very tense.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) dom!spencer, sub!reader, oral (f), reader in handcuffs so light bondage?, choking, unprotected penetrative sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare and domestic bliss because he’s still our beloved spencer

Words: 5k for 5k milestone celebration! TYSM ILY💘💘

A/n: I combined two requests asking for him to get all angry/frustrated because an unsub had a particular thing for winding him up (from anon 1) so he needs some kind of smutty release (from anon 2). You know who you are.

You could tell something was off. 

A sense of unease settled in the pit of your stomach as the front door creaked open, and instead of the usual lively greeting from your husband, you were met with silence. It was as though he was physically there and yet you could sense his absence in the air. 

"Spence?" You called out, stepping out of the kitchen. When there was no response, you tried again. "Baby, are you okay?"

Your feet guided you down the hallway where you found him standing by the door with his back facing you. Even from behind, you could sense the foul mood he was in. His shoulders seemed more tense than usual, his hair slightly disheveled, and there was an edge to his movements as he closed the door with a loud thud.

"Babe?"

His response was brief, his gaze flickering towards you before quickly darting away, almost as if he were intentionally avoiding your eyes.

"Hey."

"Hey?" you echoed. "That's all I'm getting?"

When his eyes met yours again, you could practically feel the tension radiating from him. It was clear that he was angry, his usual calm demeanor seemed to be replaced by a subtle but palpable edge. There was a tightness in his jaw, a clenched fist by his side, and his usually warm gaze now held a hint of sharpness.

Only one thought crossed your mind whenever he came home like this.

"Bad day at work?"

He slowly nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head.

"Do you want a hug?"

He hesitated momentarily, his brows furrowing slightly as if debating whether to accept your offer. Then, without a word, he closed the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close as he buried his head in the crook of your neck. Your hand instinctively found its way to his hair, fingers gently running through the soft strands.

"Oh, honey, you're so tense," you noted as your other hand trailed along his shoulder. "Is there anything I can help with? A massage? A nice warm bath maybe?"

You felt him shake his head against you, but you persisted, wanting to offer him comfort in any way you could. When your hand smoothed down his back, his hold on you tightened. When your fingers brushed the nape of his neck, you felt his warm breath caress your skin.

Then it happened—soft lips brushed against the spot under your ear, tentative at first, before growing more urgent. It wasn't the tender, affectionate kisses you were used to, but a different kind of intimacy that felt almost desperate. His lips nibbled and sucked gently at your skin and it became clear to you what he wanted.

"You want another kind of release, baby? Is that what you want?"

His lips momentarily paused against your neck, his arms loosening their grip around you before he rested his hands on your hips. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" 

"Because—” he stopped, his grip on your body tightening. “Because I don't feel like myself right now."

You grabbed him by the shoulders, pushing him away just enough to see his face. "What makes you say that?"

Spencer held your gaze. How could he explain to you that he was on the verge of acting out his frustration? That he was so close to losing control? 

He knew how difficult he could be when anger took hold of him. In his younger days, he wouldn't hesitate to fire off sassy remarks and snarky comments, letting his emotions dictate his behavior. However, as he matured, he learned better to hide those emotions behind a composed facade.

But tonight felt different. Despite his best attempts to maintain his control, he could feel his anger slipping away, and it was unfair to burden you with it. Especially when you were offering yourself to him, so sweet and so pretty, when he knew love wasn't exactly what he could offer you right now. 

So he decided to release you, his grip loosening as he stepped back.

"Forget it," he muttered under his breath before turning towards your shared bedroom. Your brow furrowed as he walked away, leaving you standing there with your mouth slightly agape, bewildered by his sudden withdrawal.

"Spencer Reid," you called after him, your voice laced with a hint of irritation as you followed him. "I wasn't done talking to you."

He paused, his hand halfway to his tie before he loosened it with a sharp tug. You leaned against the bedroom doorway, crossing your arms as you continued to study him. His lack of response only fueled your growing annoyance, but you knew better than to escalate the situation into a fight.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke up, your voice steady but tinged with frustration. "Honey, I can't help you if you're acting this way."

"What makes you think I need help?"

"The way you're wrestling with your tie gives it away," you replied, your words laced with a hint of sarcasm.

He shot you a pointed look, clearly unimpressed by your remark. "I don't need your help."

Your frown deepened. "Seriously? You're just going to shut me out like this?"

"I'm not shutting you out," he countered, moving around the room. "I just need some space."

"Well you're doing a pretty damn good job of it," you shot back, your patience wearing thin as you pushed yourself off the doorway. His jaw clenched, but he remained silent, his actions focused on undoing the button on his wrist now. You scoffed at his lack of response again.

"Oh, so now you're giving me the silent treatment?" When it seemed evident he was trying to ignore you, you pressed on. "Fine, keep your silence, let me do the talking."

His eyes flickered momentarily at you before he turned around, undoing the button of his shirt. You watched him quietly as he continued to avoid your gaze. 

"Spencer," you began, your voice softer now. "I know your job can be hard, and I know you're going through a lot right now, but shutting me out won't make it any easier."

“I've already told you, I'm not trying to shut you out."

"Then what are you doing?" you pressed. "I tried offering you help when you didn't want to talk about it. And the one thing I can help you with, the one thing I'm sure will help you relax, you refused." 

You let out a frustrated sigh, hating how much your voice wavered now.

"Spence... you—you didn't even want to have sex with me."

His shoulders stiffened at your words, finally turning to face you. "You think I don't want to have sex with you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling a knot form in your throat. "I don't know what to think anymore," you admitted. "You're giving me the cold shoulder, it’s hard not to take it personally."

The room seemed to close in around you, suffocating in its silence. Then, you watched as he began to walk towards you. One step. Two steps. Until his presence loomed over you, casting a shadow that suddenly made you feel small and vulnerable.

"I'm refusing to have sex with you right now not because I don't want to," he said, his voice dangerously low. "I'm refusing because I'm trying to protect you."

You frowned, confusion furrowing your brow. "Protect me from what?"

There was a moment of silence before he replied, “From myself."

You felt a knot tightening in your stomach, goosebumps forming on your skin as you struggled to comprehend what he was trying to say.

“I… I don't understand."

"I don't want to risk it. I'm afraid that if we... if we cross that line, I might hurt you."

"Spencer," you whispered in disbelief, as if his words were the most absurd thing you'd ever heard. "You would never hurt me."

He shook his head. "You wouldn't be so sure if you knew half of the thought in my head right now."

You faltered for a moment, taken aback by his words. Then your gaze involuntarily flickered down his body, tracing the lines of his open shirt and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as your gaze moved lower, taking in the way his pants hung low on his hips, and the trail of soft hair leading downwards.

You swallowed hard.

"Tell me then," you challenged, your voice trembling slightly as you met his gaze again. "Tell me how you'd hurt me."

He studied you, assessing, calculating. "You won't like it," he warned.

"And what if I do?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of surprise flashing across his features. "You don't know what you're asking for."

"I know what I want."

He regarded you for a long moment, weighing your words carefully. Finally, he stepped closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispered, "You really want to know what I'd like to do to you?"

You held his gaze. "Yes," you replied. "Tell me."

His lips curved into a faint, almost rueful smile. With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached out and traced a finger along the curve of your jaw. "I want to use you," he murmured. "I want to feel you, to taste you. I want to make you scream."

You could feel the heat traveling through your body, a heady mixture of desire and anticipation flooding your senses. You reached out, fingers trembling as they brushed against his chest, feeling the heat radiating from his skin.

"I want to control you," he continued, his gaze darkening. "I want to tie you up leave you bruises, mark your skin. I want you helpless, begging for mercy."

He tilted your chin up, his eyes locking with yours.

"I want to see how far you'll go for me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you drank in his words, and you couldn't deny the heat spreading between your legs. "And what if I want that too?"

A tense silence settled between you. Then slowly, almost as if testing the waters, he wrapped his fingers around your throat, simply holding you there. "You don't mean that."

"Try me," you dared, holding his gaze. "Put your hand between my thighs and see just how much I mean it."

His grip around your throat tightened ever so slightly while his other hand hovered at the waistband of your cotton pants. You felt a jolt of anticipation as he slipped his hand inside, your breath hitching as the pad of his calloused fingers dipped inside your panties.

A soft hum of approval escaped his lips when the slickness of your arousal coated his skin.

"Would you look at that? Barely even touched you and you're already this wet?" A low gasp fell between your lips as he found your clit. "You really want this, don't you?"

You could only manage a whimper in response, your breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Tell me," he insisted, his breath hot against your skin. "Do you want me to stop?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. "No," you finally managed to gasp.

With deliberate slowness, he trailed his fingertips lower, teasingly circling your entrance. He started with gentle strokes, keeping his fingers only on the outer side as you tried to bite back a moan that threatened to slip out.

“You dirty girl,” he muttered, and you feel yourself getting wetter as his finger continued to touch you teasingly. Then slowly, the grip on your throat loosened before his hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I need you to be sure," he whispered, "Because once we cross that line, there's no going back."

Your eyelids dropped lower as you chewed on your bottom lip, feeling the weight of his desire hanging in the air. It was a heady mix of uncertainty and anticipation, but one thing was clear—you wanted him.

You wanted him to use your body.

“Use me however you like,” you confessed. "I-I’m all yours.”

His lips were on yours in an instant. There was no mercy in his kiss, only raw desire and urgency. He kissed you as if he needed to breathe in your air, his lips moving desperately against yours, his tongue seeking entrance to taste you.

His hand then left your pants to cradle your face, holding you gently yet firmly as he explored every inch of your mouth, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Finally, he pulled away, his chest rising and falling heavily as he caught his breath. 

He looked down at you, his gaze intense, and saw the dazed expression in your eyes. Your touch, taste, and scent clouded his vision as you trembled in his arms, the soft sounds of your labored breath sang in his ears.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Now listen to me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "I'm going to leave you for a while, and when I come back, I expect to see you lying on the bed naked with your legs spread apart."

You swallowed hard, eyes slightly going wide. You felt his hand gripping your jaw.

"Do I make myself clear?"

You quickly nodded. "Y-Yes."

His grip tightened momentarily before he released you, his gaze piercing as he held your eyes for a moment longer. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room. 

With trembling hands, you began to undress, each piece of clothing dropping to the floor until you stood bare before the bed. The cool air prickled against your skin as you slowly climbed onto the bed.

You brought your feet onto the bed before spreading your knees apart. It felt weird, you had never felt so exposed and vulnerable, yet you couldn't deny the arousal pooling between your thighs. And then you heard him, his footsteps gradually coming closer and your heart pounded in your chest as you gripped onto the bed sheets.

His tall frame filled the doorway as he took in the sight before him, his eyes lingering between your legs. He watched your chest rise and fall, watched the way your legs fell apart even more as if you were offering yourself to him. Without a word, he approached the bed and stripped off his shirt. 

Before you could catch your breath, he stood over the bed beside you. "Put your arms above your head."

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of his gaze, but then slowly, almost instinctively, you complied, raising your arms above your head as instructed. You watched as he reached behind his back, and your heart raced as you glimpsed the glint of metal in his hand.

He didn't say a word as he reached for your wrists, securing them above your head with the cold metal of the handcuff, restraining you to the bed. The click of the cuffs echoed in the room before he stepped back, his eyes fixed on you with a predatory gleam as if he was admiring his handiwork.

Your pulse quickened as you lay there, exposed and at his mercy and you couldn't help but squirm under his gaze. He moved closer, his fingers trailing lightly along your skin, and you shivered, both from the chill of the metal and the warmth of his touch.

"You look so pretty like this," he murmured. "So helpless, yet so willing."

Your eyes followed his movement as his fingers moved to unbutton his pants. Then he was completely naked, and even though you had seen him like this countless times, the sight of his cock never failed to make your cunt clench in anticipation. He was thick and hard, with veins pulsing along its length and droplets of wetness glistening at the tip.

The bed sank under his weight as he positioned himself between your legs. You gasped when he leaned forward, the underside of his cock teasingly brushing against your wet folds as his lips met your collarbone. You bit down on your bottom lip as he kissed lower, stopping at your left breast, where he suckled on the supple skin just above your nipple.

His mouth latched onto your skin after taking a moment to try and keep himself from rushing into things. But he was a simple man. His lips worked precisely and diligently, and you watched as he left marks on your breasts, his teeth gently sinking into your flesh here and there, his warm saliva coating the faint markings.

The kisses left on your sensitive skin resulted in you whining for more. Spencer felt a rush of satisfaction like no other, his touches growing more urgent with each sound that escaped your lips. His tongue glided over your plump breasts, teasing and tantalizing, until finally, his mouth enveloped your nipple.

You squealed, squirming underneath him, and he smiled against your skin, his lips forming a knowing smirk as he continued to suck while his thumb flicked the nipple he wasn't focusing on. There was no doubt you would be left with bruises tomorrow morning.

Your eyes drifted downward just as he looked up, his gaze meeting yours, and you couldn't help but whine when the tip of his tongue circled your nipple teasingly. You reached out, craving the sensation of your fingers in his hair, only to feel the metal of the handcuffs digging into your skin.

"It's torture, isn't it? Not being able to do anything," he taunted with a laugh, shifting his attention to your other nipple. "But I guess that's the fun part.”

You whimpered as he softly bit your sensitive bud, and your back arched off the bed in response. He leaned back, admiring the marks he'd left on your skin.

"God, look at you," he murmured as his gaze lingered on your flushed skin, the swell of your breasts rising and falling with each breath. "I could do this all night."

Slowly, he lowered himself back down, his lips tracing a path from your chest down to your stomach. You squirmed, anticipation coiling tightly in your belly as his warm breath ghosted lower. His hair tickled your legs, and he took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. 

You gasped as he sucked your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the flesh as if he was intent on marking every inch of your body. His lips continued to trail along your thighs but never quite reaching the place you craved him the most.

For someone with pent-up emotions, his movements were agonizingly slow. It was frustrating, the way he toyed with you, drawing out the anticipation until you couldn't bear it any longer.

"Please," you whimpered, the chains rattling softly against the headboard as you continued to squirm beneath him.

He paused, his hot breath fanning over your skin as he looked up at you. "Please what?" 

"Pl-Please touch me."

He kissed over your mound as he hooked an arm under your leg. His other hand reached for the heat radiating between your thighs before two of his fingers brushed along your outer lips, dragging your arousal along your skin. "Like this?"

You groaned as he kept on teasing you, stroking you with featherlight touches. “More," you pleaded desperately, almost pathetically. "Please."

His fingers stretched your folds, his gaze fixed on the glistening wetness, on the way your cunt clenched around nothing. "You're so pretty, you know that?"

"Spence..." you breathed out, feeling his breath achingly close to your heat.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, he lowered his head, his breath hot against your flesh. The minute his tongue touched you, you were already a writhing, whimpering mess. Your head began spinning, nerves and pleasure swooping into one big fuzzy mess in your mind as his tongue teased up and down your slit. 

"Oh my god," you whined the moment his mouth circled your clit before sucking on it, sending waves of pleasure along your body. And then, just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, you felt his finger at your entrance, and without warning, he pushed in his digit, sending your head tilting back with a desperate gasp falling from your lips.

His groan reverberated against your skin as your walls clenched around him. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it inside of you as his tongue lapped at your dripping folds. With each movement, he pressed his face even further into you, relishing the sensation of your wetness coating his jaw.

Your eyes drifted downwards at the same time he looked up, locking gazes with him, and you let out the most filthy cry of pleasure. He held your gaze as his tongue quickened its pace, sucking your clit even harder as he added another finger inside you. 

Your mouth gaped open as you felt the delicious stretch, and you couldn't help but buck your hips towards his face. Spencer always had a fixation on pleasuring you, but not like this—it was never like this. He seemed desperate, almost possessive, as if he couldn't get enough of your taste.

He continued his relentless assault, his fingers pumping inside you with a steady rhythm while his tongue worked tirelessly on your swollen clit. The squelching sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping walla was so lewd that it made his cock stir against the bed.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you, the heat spreading like wildfire through your veins. Before you knew it, your climax hit you hard, without warning, without mercy, and you were gasping his name over and over.

You shivered and trembled beneath him, tossing your head back even farther, squeezing your walls around his fingers and your legs around his head.  But he didn't stop or even slow down. Instead, he pulled his fingers out of you, only to push your thighs apart even when your legs were shaking uncontrollably.

"Stop moving," he ordered as he leaned in, tasting you all over again. He didn't care that you were a complete mess, that you were still reeling in from your climax, that you were trying to move back away from him. All he cared about was giving you the best pleasure imaginable, and he was intent on seeing it through.

"Spence—” you gasped when his nose brushed your clit. “I-I can't—"

He gently held your fragile body in place to prevent you from running away from his mouth. "Hold still and give me another one." 

How could you not relent when he treated you like this, so considerate yet so rough? You groaned, your eyes meeting the ceiling as you felt his mouth continue its relentless assault on your cunt. The sensation was overwhelming, yet despite your protests, you couldn't deny the building pressure.

Your muscles tensed. Your breathing hitched. You gasped for air. And just as the waves of pleasure threatened to consume you once more, you surrendered, letting out a pathetic cry as your body convulsed with the force of your climax.

His tongue lingered over your sensitive skin, savoring the taste of your release, before he finally withdrew, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. He then lifted his head, your juices glistening on his lips as he watched your heaving chest.

Spencer had never been so thankful for his eidetic memory. He took in the sight of your hands, bound above your head, the rise and fall of your chest as you panted, the tousled strands of hair framing your face. His gaze lingered on the way your legs willingly parted for him, your skin flushed and pussy swollen, all because of him.

It was a sight he wanted to etch into his memory forever.

You bit your bottom lip as his gaze lingered on you, feeling your body flush under his scrutiny. Then, as if something within him shifted, he reached for you, urging your body to turn until you were facing sideways, the chains rattling softly as you moved.

He settled behind you, and your heart quickened as you felt him grab your leg, lifting it in the air. With one hand gripping your thigh firmly, he positioned himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your slick folds. 

You could feel the warmth of his body pressed against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck as he leaned in closer. With a deep, guttural moan, he eased himself into you, every inch of him sliding effortlessly into your wetness. You couldn't help but arch your back in response to the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Fuck," he murmured, the curse slipping past his lips in a breathy whisper. It sounded foreign coming from him and yet it only encouraged you more. You pushed your hips back into him, meeting his slow, deliberate thrusts.

"Needed this so much," he confessed, his breath coming out in ragged pants against the nape of your neck. "You have no idea how much I've wanted you like this for so long."

Your head fell back onto his chest, completely enveloped in him—the scent of his skin, the warmth of his touch, the rhythmic movement of his cock thrusting inside you.

"Thought it was wrong of me to take control of you," he muttered, his breath hot against your ear. "But you're enjoying this as much, aren't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form words as the pleasure consumed you and you felt him picking up his pace. The room was filled with lewd noises of your wetness along with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"You like being helpless like this? You like it when I fuck you while being cuffed to the bed?"

Your breath hitched at his words. His hand left your thigh, but only momentarily. The crack of sound pierced the air, followed by a surge of sensation coursing up your leg. The realization hit you like a bolt of lightning—he spanked you. 

And you liked it.

"Answer. Me," he demanded, each word punctuated by the rhythm of his thrusts.

"Yes," you managed to gasp out. "I-I love being helpless."

He let out a sound of pleasure as he released your thigh, only to tease your clit with his fingers. You gasped, your head thrown back as he applied just the right amount of pressure, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You felt the intensity building, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach as he continued to pump into you, his fingers moving fast against your clit.

You tried to speak and warn him about your upcoming orgasm but you couldn't even think properly. The squelch of his cock driving into you roughly rang in your ears and with a sharp inhale, you felt the tension within you reach its peak. Your muscles tensed, your breath caught in your throat, and then, with an explosive release, you cried out his name.

He groaned as he felt you pulsating around him, your walls gripping him tightly. He continued to move within you, riding out your orgasm as his thrusts grew harder, more urgent until he couldn't hold back any longer.

"I need to see you," he breathed as he pulled out of you. Then he flipped you onto your back, guiding one of your legs over his shoulder as he settled between your thighs once more. The change in position brought you closer, the heat of your bodies mingling as you met his gaze.

Without a word, he pushed himself back into you, the slick heat of your cunt enveloping him. You watched him through half-lidded eyes, feeling your body growing sticky, every inch of you glistening with sweat, but his gaze remained fixated on you, unwavering and intense.

"So pretty," he murmured, his hand finding your face and cupping your cheek, absorbing your features in the dim lighting of the room. "My beautiful wife."

You whimpered as he dragged his hand down your skin, thumb brushing over your lips as he felt your hot breath on his fingertip. He watched your eyes switch between widening and fluttering half shut while he began pumping into you.

Spencer couldn't keep his eyes off of you as you took his cock eagerly, your breasts bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue slipping out of your mouth. A whine followed through as his hand moved down to your neck, practically holding you in place as his hips collided against your own.

He gave a slight pressure around your throat, and your head began to loll against the mattress, chin pointed in the air in pleasure. The squeezing sensation was now beginning to take over your body, spreading from across your cheeks, to your ears, and up to your eyes, tears pooling right at the corner. The feeling even reached your stomach, tightening and coiling with the signal of your impending orgasm.

Was this your fourth orgasm? Your fifth? You couldn't keep track; all you knew was the overwhelming sensation prickling your skin. The bed below you felt as if it was on fire. The metal digging around your wrist burned with absolute pleasure.

His thrusts grew more intense, each movement raw and unrestrained, as if he was pouring all his pent-up emotions into you. He seemed to lose himself in the moment, his grip on your neck firm but not painful, but it was enough to make you gasp, your body trembling with pleasure, eyes rolling at the back of your head.

You were instantly gone.

A filthy cry fell between your lips as another orgasm crashed over you, more intense than the last. At some point you were gasping for air, feeling your body going limp but he didn’t stop. His hips had a mind of their own. You could feel them beginning to move like they were possessed, with no regard for your pleasure, and in a way, no regard for his. 

“Oh god—fuck!” You cried, arching your back as much in this position.

He groaned and leaned in, his arms pressing against the bed on either side of you as he pushed your leg up to your shoulder. He tried to kiss you, but the force of his movements made it hard. Instead, his lips hovered just above yours, both of you breathing heavily and moaning into each other's mouths.

Eyelids drooped a bit too low as your mouth went completely ajar, exhaling weakly. It didn’t take long for another wave of pleasure to rush through your body. You convulsed beneath him, thighs quivering violently as you tried to angle your body away from him, the pleasure almost unbearable now.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you caught a glimpse of him throwing back his head with his eyes screwed shut. Then he finally groaned—his movements slowing, breath sputtering from his lungs as he exploded, pumping once, twice, three times all before coming to a halt, cock twitching inside you.

You watched the sweat bead down his forehead as you both worked silently to relax your bodies, pulses pounding in ruthless rhythm. With a deep, contented sigh he finally slid himself out of you before going through his discarded pants on the floor. 

After a moment, he returned to you and unlocked the handcuff from your wrist, the sound of the lock clicking echoing in the room. The chains fell onto the bed with a soft thud as he gently took hold of your hands.

“Are you okay?"

You nodded, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay."

He pressed a tender kiss to both of your wrists, his lips lingering over your pulse for a moment. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked anxiously, his eyes raking over your body. "Was I too rough? Did I—""

"Spencer, relax," you whispered, you took his hand in yours. "I'm good. I promise."

"You sure?" he asked, his face still tight with concern.

"Yes, more than good. Just come cuddle with me?"

He hesitated, his eyes scanning over your body for a few seconds longer. After he seemed satisfied you really were okay, he lowered onto the bed beside you and you drew his head to your chest. Your fingers gently played with his hair, watching as he slowly relaxed into you, throwing one of his arms across your stomach. 

"Thank you," he whispered. "I... I think I needed that."

Your attention shifted to his face, happy to see his expression finally somewhat peaceful as he lay just above your breasts. His eyes were closed, the tension you'd noticed on his face when he'd arrived entirely gone now.

Gently running your fingers through his hair, you whispered, "Of course, baby. Anytime you need me, I'm here."

His lips curved into a small, contented smile as he nestled closer to you. "I love you."

A surge of warmth filled your chest at his words. "I love you too," you whispered back. "But are you okay? Do you want to talk about what happened at work?"

You felt him shift as he shook his head. "Maybe later. I just want to hold you right now."

You gently kissed the crown of his head before pulling him closer. Spencer sighed happily as he snuggled closer to you, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat against your chest. He then reached over your breasts, his thumb trailing over the marks he had left on your skin. 

"I didn't realize you enjoyed that so much."

You shrugged the shoulder beside his head. "It's hard not to. I mean, I think I've always liked it when you're in control, and that doesn't only apply to sex."

He leaned back to look at you. "Really?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Yeah. Remember the first time we started dating and someone broke into my apartment?"

"How could I forget?" he replied, a frown tugging at his brows as he recalled the memory. “That was one of the scariest moments in my life.”

"Right. You thought some serial killer was targeting me when it was just a random robbery. But the way you handled the situation..." you continued, your voice softening. "When you took charge and made sure I was safe, I realized how much I trusted you. And I remember thinking, 'Damn, my boyfriend's pretty cool.'"

His frown melted away, replaced by a warm smile at your words. "You thought I was cool?" 

You chuckled, nodding as you met his gaze. "You're cool, smart, and hot at the same time," you teased. "What I'm trying to say is, I like it when you're in control because I like to depend on you. You make me feel safe and cared for."

His expression softened even further, a tender warmth filling his eyes. "I like it when you depend on me too," he confessed softly. With a gentle tug, he sat up, bringing you along. "Come on then, let me care for you now."

You looked up at him. "Yeah? What do you have in mind?"

"I think we both need that nice warm bath."

You smiled, already feeling the tension in your muscles ease at the thought of a soothing bath with him. "Will you wash my hair too?"

He pushed a strand of hair off your face, his heart swelling with affection at the look in your eyes. How could he resist when you looked at him like he hung up the moon for you? 

"Of course," he replied without hesitation. "I'll do whatever you want me to do."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #gifwriting #spencer reid x reader smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n

[ellecdc]

Hiii :) I saw your requests tips and saw that you didn't write for dub/non con and I don't know if this count as one so just feel free to not respond!

So reader is in a relationship with the Marauders and is starting to randomly think about a past SA and realise this was SA only now bc her brain has been blocking the memory and information. She tells the boys (and maybe Barty idk) about it after sometime of overthinking it and self blaming so it's just like super fluff at the end <3

(it's my personal experience but if you don't feel comfortable writing about it just feel free to ignore it :). Sorry for the bad orthograph english isn't my first language 🫶🏻)

first of all - your English is fucking fantastic (and you know more words than I do - I had to look up what an orthograph was) secondly, I turned this into more of a conversation between reader and her ship. and for plot purposes this became poly!wolfstar - hope that's okay!

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who opens up about past SA

CW: discusses themes of sexual consent, inebriation, and SA. Describes past SA and abusive relationships. Describes drunkeness, alcohol, and drinking. viewer discretion is advised.

You could tell it was taking Sirius a lot of effort to appear to be too fussed over Lily, James, and Regulus at the end of the party, but he pretended to gag every time anything even remotely romantic or sexual was brought up about his brother.

“What do you think happens when they go home, Pads?” Remus muttered quietly, causing Sirius to slap his hands against his ears.

“Would you shut up, Moons? I am not interested in hearing about my brother’s sexual habits, thank you.”

Unfortunately for Sirius, Lily didn’t get the memo. 

“Are we le-leaving!?” She shrieked through a hiccup as James held most of her weight up against his side and Regulus gathered her purse and shoes she’d since lost.

“Yes sweets; we’re gonna get you to bed.” James said quietly.

A salacious smirk took over Lily’s face as she tried (and failed) to grab James by the chin. “To bed, hm?”

Regulus snorted, though no one missed the blush that dusted his cheeks. “To sleep, Lils.”

Lily groaned dramatically and seemed to go ‘no bones’ in James' grip as he grunted and tried to keep her from hitting the ground. “Why not.”

“Because you smell like you bathed in a bottle of schnapps, sweetheart.” James placated.

“So?” Lily grumbled though acquiesced to helping James keep her up right. “We can even do that thing you like.” She tried to sing sensually, but her efforts were in vain as every other word came out slurred. 

Sirius grumbled causing James to blush. 

“Not tonight, angel. We’ll cuddle, okay?”

Lily scoffed and turned her sights onto Regulus. “You agree with me, right? Right Reggie? You agree- you agree with me?”

“Almost always.” Regulus agreed quickly, offering Lily his arm as to share her weight with James. “Just not tonight, my love.”

“You guys are no fun.” Lily whined as she allowed her two boyfriends to usher her out of Remus and Sirius’ shared flat.

Unfortunately for Sirius, no one missed Regulus leaning into Lily’s hair and promising that “they’d have lots of fun tomorrow to make up for it.”

“I hate them all.” Sirius grumbled with no real malice as he stood and made his way over to you before offering you both of his hands. “What do you say, dollface? Ready for bed too?”

Remus answered ‘yes’ as you accepted Sirius’ help up which sparked a debate between the two of them whether or not Remus could be considered ‘dollface’ to which you secretly agreed that yes he could but ultimately refused to participate in such nonsense.

You got ready for bed in a haze as you replayed Regulus, James, and Lily’s conversation in your head. You weren’t sure what exactly you were so stuck on, but something about the exchange caused something deep within your gut to churn unpleasantly. 

“You feeling alright, dovey?” Remus asked gently, pressing a kiss to your hairline as you reentered their bedroom after washing your face, carrying your toiletries with you so as not to hog the bathroom.

Sirius (and Remus) had been begging you to spend your nights here with them nearly since the very beginning of your relationship, but you argued that you did not want to pay rent for a flat you never saw. 

He then started nagging you to give up the lease on your flat and just “sodding move in with them already”, but it still felt a little too fresh for that.

So, you spent most nights (but not all) at their flat; living out of duffle bags and toiletry bags.

You hummed in confirmation to Remus’ question, moving towards the mirror above Sirius’ dresser to finish your skincare routine as Remus took his turn with the washroom.

“You sure, sweetness? You’ve been awfully quiet tonight; did you have fun?” Sirius continued as he went digging through what you knew to be Remus’ drawers searching for Sirius’ favourite shirt which was really Remus’ shirt but no one bothered to argue with the black-haired boy…anymore.

“I had fun.” You agreed, massaging product into your face.

“Uh huh.” Sirius commented, not sounding at all convinced as he came up behind you and hooked his chin over your shoulder; watching as you completed your nightly routine through the mirror. “You had so much fun and that’s why you look like Moony when he can’t figure out one of those crosswords in the Daily Prophet?”

You chuckled softly, but something in your lack of enthusiasm (or your lack of disdain) for his joke seemed to tip him off. 

“What’s going on in here, hm?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“I just…” You started, sighing as you made yourself busy by tidying up your belongings and refusing to make eye contact with him. “I’ve just been thinking about Reg, James, and Lily’s conversation.”

That caused a dramatic groan to rip through Sirius’ chest as he leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

“What now?” Remus asked jokingly as he returned from the washroom. 

“She’s thinking about Regulus, James, and Lily in bed.” Sirius accused; voice muffled in the fabric of your sleepwear. 

You scoffed defensively, claiming you were “absolutely not” at the same time Remus commented “aren’t we all” which started a very loud bickering match between your two boyfriends. 

The arguing only ceased when Remus “swore on his mother’s life” that Sirius was “by far the superior Black brother.” 

Placated, Sirius turned his sights back to you as you sat on the edge of the bed. “So, what were you really thinking about their conversation?”

Remus, having walked in with only enough time to rile Sirius up, popped his head up at that. “Everything alright, dove?”

You sighed as you turned to face them. “I was just confused, I guess.” You admitted. “I think…Lily was hoping to have sex tonight?”

Sirius groaned again which earned him a swat from Remus who seemed to pick up on some of the tension radiating through your body.

“Yes…I’d agree.” Remus responded carefully.

“And Reg and James said no?”

Sirius’ head tilted at that as he considered you with furrowed brows. “Well, of course, doll. She was drunk.” He said simply, as if that explained it all. 

“So…they wouldn’t have sex with her because she was drunk?” You clarified.

The boys shared a glance with one another before they each took a seat on the bed, prompting you to turn your body so you were all facing each other.

“So, all parties have to be able to consent, right?” Remus started. 

You nodded quickly at that. 

“But when one party is inebriated or under the influence, they can’t consent.” Sirius continued.

You felt your eyebrows twitch as you looked down at the pattern on your bed spread. “Even though she was asking?”

“She wasn’t in her right mind, dove.” Remus explained gently; eyes full of compassion and, perhaps, some sadness. “She may have woken up tomorrow and not remembered anything, or perhaps worse, regretted something. It’s Regulus and James’ jobs to keep her safe, just like I’m sure she keeps them safe when the roles are reversed.”

And now you could understand why their conversation seemed to catch you so off guard. 

“You’re so pretty like this; drunk and all mine.”

“Have a few more; we always have more fun when you let loose.”

“But…I’m really tired.” “All you’ve got to do is lay there - I’ll do all the work.”

“You don’t remember last night? That’s too bad; I won’t be forgetting that any time soon.”

“You’re such a good little whore for me when you’ve had a few too many.” 

You hadn’t realised you had zoned out of the conversation until Sirius was leaning into your field of vision. “You okay, sweets?”

“Yeah.” You said breathlessly before clearing your throat. “No, sorry. I’m fine.”

“Why were you asking?” Remus queried; tone hardening slightly, alerting you to the fact that he smelled trouble. 

“I was just wondering.” You fibbed.

“You know we would do the same, right?” Sirius asked earnestly. “That we have done the same for you.”

“You have?”

“Yes, my love.” Remus whispered. “Always.”

You nodded and looked back down at the bedspread. “Okay.”

“Y/N.” Sirius called with a certain level of severity; though you detected no anger or frustration in his tone. “Why were you asking?” He repeated Remus’ earlier question after your gaze met his imploring silver eyes. 

You quickly looked down at your hands as you began picking at the hangnails around your fingers. “I was just confused; that has not always been my experience.” You admitted quietly; shame coursing through your body as you digested this new information.

The room was quiet for a moment as Remus shuffled scrupulously closer to you. “No?” He whispered; voice intoned with a level of gentleness you weren’t accustomed to hearing. 

You began to feel all sorts of discomfort at the heavy attention being focused on you in the room. “It was usually quite the opposite.” You joked; voice rising to a higher octave in an attempt to make light of the situation as you pulled back the covers and made to retreat to the relative safety of the boys’ bed. 

“Whoa, whoa. What does that mean?” Sirius implored, earning him a gentle warning “Pads” from Remus.

“I’m sorry.” You placated, still uncomfortable with this heavy atmosphere you seem to have blanketed over what had been a really nice evening. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I-” Sirius began, cutting himself off and taking a breath you could tell was an attempt to calm himself down. He shuffled closer to you and wrapped his hand around one of your ankles through the blanket as he rubbed soothing circles against it. “You can always talk about anything with us; it’s important that we talk about these things, yeah?”

“Only if you’re comfortable, of course.” Remus mollified. “But I do agree with Sirius; if you’re comfortable, I think it’s good for us to talk about these things.” 

“It was just my last relationship.” You admitted finally. “He didn’t…agree - with the consent thing, that is.”

Remus’ lips pursed as Sirius’ jaw tightened. 

“He’d sleep with you when you were drunk?” Remus asked cautiously. 

“Yeah.” You agreed half-heartedly, picking at your nail beds. “Or encourage me to drink more so…”

Remus let out a sigh and you could tell Sirius was fighting back the urge to grumble. 

“I’m sorry,” You offered again. “I really didn’t mean to bring all this up, I just-”

“I really, really don’t want you to apologise anymore.” Sirius nearly begged. 

“I don’t understand how someone could do that.” Remus mused aloud. “To anyone; and someone they claimed to love?”

You mistook Remus’ rhetorical question for an actual need for clarification. “He said I was more fun; that I’d try things I wouldn’t normally.”

Sirius did finally let out an angry huff and his fingers stilled on your ankle. “Who?”

“You don’t know him.” You countered quickly, bringing your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as you rested your chin on your knees. 

“Lucky him.” Sirius muttered darkly as Remus shifted closer to you. 

“I’m sorry dove.” He offered quietly; holding out his hand to you in a silent invitation. You accepted it, and as you gave him your hand, he gently encouraged you over to him until you were cradled in his arms.

“I didn’t tell you to be sorry.” You murmured quietly as Remus began pressing kisses to the raw and reddened skin around your fingers you hadn’t realised you had nearly shredded in your tension. 

“I know you didn’t.” He whispered. “I’m still sorry, anyhow.”

“I think it’s nice… that the boys were looking after Lily.”

Remus hummed in agreement though he still looked particularly disturbed.  

“That’s their job.” Sirius supplied, causing you and Remus to turn your heads towards your boyfriend whose eyes were red and shining with unshed tears.

“Sirius.” You murmured miserably.

“Just like it’s our job to look after you.” He continued as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

“And you do.” You agreed.

Sirius huffed and wiped at his face. “I hate to think of you being hurt or…or taken advantage of when I wasn’t there to help you.”

Remus made a pitiful sound at that. 

“You didn’t even know me then, Siri.” You offered, half teasing and half placating. 

“She’s alright, Sirius.” Remus comforted. “She’s got us. You’ll be okay now, yeah?”

And you thought of your boys now; you thought of Sirius near tears thinking of someone taking advantage of you during a time you hadn’t even known him, you thought of Remus currently cradling you like you were a precious thing he feared losing if he didn’t hold you with the utmost care, and you thought of their friends - the kind of people who they surrounded themselves with and had the same morals as they did.

Yeah…you think you might just be okay now.

#marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #sirius black #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius x remus #wolfstar #poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x you #poly!wolfstar blurb #poly!wolfstar imagine #poly!wolfstar fic #poly!wolfstar hurt/comfort #marauders hurt/comfort #sirius black hurt/comfort #remus lupin hurt/comfort #past SA #conversations of consent #fem!reader #ellecdc fics

[emmasbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption? i think that’s all, nothing NSFW in this one

Synopsis: Your good friend Penelope sees you in a bar and begs you to sit with her and her work friends. You realise you like one. She also realises you like one. She however, thinks you like the wrong one.

The moment Penelope spotted you, she gasped. “Oh my god!” You spun round on your seat on the bar towards her running over to you in unrunnable heels, a brilliant smile gracing her face and a surprised one falling to yours as you saw each other.

“Penelope?” You hopped off your bar stool and pulled her into a hug. “It’s been too long darlin’. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in years.” You gushed, definitely over exaggerating your circumstances.

“Didn’t we go for coffee last Thursday?” She giggles, and you see the familiar glint in her eye that she only got after a couple of margaritas.

“Like I said, years!” You giggled right back, and she held your hands, leaning in towards you more.

“Who are you here with?” She questioned, looking around.

You shrugged casually, “I came with some girls from work, but they all left with guys and I decided to drink my loneliness away… Except I haven’t actually had a drink yet because I’ve been sitting here debating whether I really want to drink alone.” Your words, though holding a little weight, came out with a laugh and a self deprecating sigh.

Penelope gave you a look, and you knew she was brewing something. “What if… you come sit with us?” Before you can ask questions or protest, she continues, “You know I’ve always wanted to introduce you to the team, which is who I’m here with, and it would be good for you too ‘cus it means you can drink not on your own.” She gives you puppy dog eyes, and clasps her hands together waiting for your answer.

You relent, deciding the sooner you had an interaction with her FBI friends the sooner it was over. You had heard some things, and they seemed lovely, but they were her friends and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be very welcome with your job as a journalist. “Okay fine, but you can’t mention my job. I don’t want them to hate me on the first impression.”

“It’s okay they know, I told them ages ago about what you do. Alright you stay here, I’ll go tell them and then I can introduce you.” She was practically buzzing, so excited you could see it in the air around her. She shuffled away happily, and came back to drag you over a moment later.

As you approached the group, she introduced you in order of where they sat around the table. “That’s JJ, Derek, David, Hotch, Emily, and Spencer. Everybody, this is my friend Y/N.” She smiles all big and goofy and then scrunches up her face in disappointment. “There’s no chairs left.”

You take this as an opportunity. “Well, I suppose that means I should g-“

“Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab one from over there.” Spencer quickly finds a solution, standing to walk over to an unused table and fetch another chair. You follow him with your eyes as he lifts it over. Doctor Spencer Reid. Penelope had mentioned the man on multiple occasions. Ever the problem solver, you gathered from her ramblings on the things he would do and say.

Penelope sits in the chair between JJ and Derek, and the latter lets his arm rest on Penelope’s shoulders. As you sit down in Spencer’s sacrificed chair, he pulls another one in between you and JJ, and you both awkwardly smile at each other before you look down to your hands in your lap. “Thank you.” You whisper to him.

“What for?” He whispers back.

“The chair.” You mumble, and he nods.

“It’s no problem.”

“Okay, I say we get some drinks. How bout it, pretty girl?” Derek's words snap you from your awkwardness, and you smile, realising he’s given you a nickname already.

“I am in dire need of a beer.” You reply, and Emily looks at you from your right.

“Beer, huh? I woulda coined you for a vodka redbull kinda girl. All for the thrills.” She looks at you with a smirk and you shake your head with a giggle.

“I’m normally a whiskey kinda girl actually, I get that from my parents. I only very rarely drink vodka, it just makes me want to make out with people.” The embarrassment soaks in the moment the words come out of your mouth and you realise you’ve just told a group of behavioural analysts that vodka makes you horny.

“Alcohol oftentimes does have the effect of making you sexually confident and can heighten feelings of affection and make you more open to try things sexually. One could assume that your specific set of hormones are just more affected by the chemicals in vodka in comparison to other alcohols.” Spencer pulls his lips into a straight line, and you giggle at his readily available information. Penelope wasn’t joking.

“Thanks, Doc.” You bump his shoulder, and he looks a little confused but mumbles a “No problem” anyway. As he looks away towards Derek and Penelope, you take the chance to study his features discreetly. The angle of his jaw perfectly contrasts the softness of his eyes, the honey brown colour almost sparkling within the dim lighting of the bar. His cheeks are tinged pink from the currently inaudible teasing from Derek, and there’s a little smile on his lips that you could almost envision yourself kissing.

Derek breaks you out of your head a second time. “Hey pretty girl, you wanna go get those drinks now?” He flashes you a grin and you smile, nodding.

“Yea let’s do it. Does everyone know what they want?” As you’re trying to split everyone’s orders between you and Derek, Penelope gives you a look that says “do you have the hots for my friend?” and you give her a look back that says “maybe..” she gasps and the whole table turns to look at her, making her realise that she’d turned the conversation into an out loud one now.

“You know what? Us girls can handle those drinks, Derek. Why don’t you have a seat.” She drags you up to the bar and orders quickly before she forgets, and then whips round to face you.

“You like him. I saw it on your face. You like him!!” She whisper shouts and you glance back to Derek and Spencer hunched over the table chatting. You smile.

“Look at him! Of course I like him, who wouldn’t like him? He’s simultaneously cute and hot and I swear men aren’t supposed to work like that.” You whisper shout back at her, and her smiles sadly.

“I wish I could set you up, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is amazing so I can’t even be mad about it.” She sighs, and you slightly deflate.

“Oh man, I can’t believe the first time in years that I actually want a guy he’s taken. Just my luck, I suppose.” You laugh, and grab the drinks that have been sat on the bar. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You shrug your shoulders and head back over to the table with her, handing everyone their drinks and sitting back next to Spencer to sip your own.

After an hour or so, conversation was going a tad dry, and you decided to use an old icebreaker your college roommate had taught you to get things flowing again. “Okay, one after the other I want everyone to tell the group something embarrassing. It can be anything, as long as it’s about you.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Derek starts.

“There was this one time I was flirting with a girl while I was out with my mom. Now that was my first mistake, my mom comes over and starts talkin to this girl askin if she’s my girlfriend. I said momma I’ve only just met her, and she said ‘well then you better hurry up, this girl is far too beautiful for you to pass up’. Before I could even speak, the girl says ‘I think you’re too beautiful to pass up’. She was talkin to my mom! And I just thought hey maybe she’s just tryna get on moms good side, you know? You win over mom, you win over me. But then she spent 10 minutes flirting with my mother until I had to drag her away. My mom will not stop bringing it up just to mock me.”

Spencer cracked up beside you at the story, and you couldn't help laughing a little with him.

Penelope pipes in, “Tell them when this happened.” He grimaces.

“Last year.” He barely says it loud enough to hear, but you all catch it and it sends you all into a fit of laughter.

Rossi reminisces about the time he proposed to one of his ex wives, and she said no. In public. Then later in the day said yes, telling him she just wanted to embarrass him the way his public proposal had embarrassed her.

Hotch talks of the time he finished work early and decided to pick up Jack from school. The teacher had asked him if he was Jack’s grandfather, and he had to explain that he most definitely was not.

“I once hugged my friend from behind to tell her goodbye at a party. It wasn’t my friend.” Is all Emily gives for details. She grimaces at the sheer memory of it, and you can’t help the little smile that graces your lips.

“My turn then?” You question the group, and they nod. “I probably should’ve used this time to think of what I was gonna say. Well I suppose I’ll use the only one that’s currently present in my mind,” You turn to face Spencer, “I was gonna ask you out before Penelope had to drag me away and tell me you were taken. Which was slightly embarrassing for me in the moment, but as I’m saying this I realise I’ve just embarrassed myself even more.” You nod through your internal pain at how stupid you felt, and took a deep breath before trying to move on. Spencer looked too taken aback to let that happen.

“You were gonna ask me out? And Penelope told you I was in a relationship? Why would she do that?” He looks plain confused now, and you mirror his expression.

“I never told you Spencer was in a relationship. I told you Derek was in a relationship, because I thought he was the friend you said you liked! Wait. So when you said he was hot you meant Spencer?” Now even Penelope looked confused, although not exactly for the same reason you were.

“Yes! Of course I meant Spencer! No offence Derek, you’re lovely but you’re not my type.” You rushed, giving him a sheepish smile.

“And I am?” Spencer speaks again.

“Pretty much yea.” The smile he gives you at your words makes you look away nervously.

“So what you mean is that if you hadn’t been told I was taken I could have went on a date with you?” He’s looking inquisitively at your face now, tracing for signs of a lie as he waits for you to respond.

“You still could go on a date with me.” You suggest, with a little shrug and a smile that reaches your eyes.

“I’d like that.” He nods, slightly enthusiastic but trying to play it cool.

“Me too.” You nod with him. “I should probably be heading home, I have work I still need to catch up on. But I could give you my number and you could take me to your favourite place or something. Somewhere I can get to know you just from looking around.” You suggest, gathering your things and scribbling your number down on a spare napkin.

“That sounds good- great. That sounds great.” His eyes are filled with a mixture of excitement and something else you’re not sure about, but the look on his face makes you smile.

“Call me then.” You nod finally, getting up to leave. You give everyone their goodbyes, hugging them all lightly and giving Spencer a little wave.

Over the next few days the anticipation of his call is almost overwhelming. And when your phone begins to ring, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen, you bite your nail before clicking the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

A/N: I don’t actually really like this, but it’s fine. I wanna do a part two, someone tell me to do a part two plsplsplspls. (May rewrite this once i’m not jet lagged and cramming it between studying but idk)

#doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

[theroundbartable]

Ah shit, now I want an episode where Merlin somehow hears that Aithusa has been captured by an evil King.

Arthur is like: We have to get on good terms with that King. He knows how to capture dragons. Let's go, Merlin.

And the entire episode, Merlin debates whether to tell Arthur that they need to FREE the dragon because that's what Dragons are meant to be.

Then, Merlin sees the state Aithusa is in.

Evil King: it was tough to have it bow to my will. It loves to bite the hand that feeds it, haha. You shouldn't get too close.

Merlin: *not listening* walks over to where Aithusa is in chains.

Arthur: Merlin, what the hell are you doing!!!!

Merlin: She's hurt.

Arthur: yes, that's kind of the point. Now get away before- she?

Merlin starts petting the Dragon who is now whining and whimpering into his arms.

Merlin: *whispering* shhhh, my dear. I'll get you out of here. I'll be back tonight.

Evil King: It's not... Biting him? That's interesting

Arthur: Ignore him. He's just my idiot servant. For some reason, animals love him. It's just his nature

Evil King: That thing, King Arthur, is not an animal. That's a magical creature and magical creatures only feel safe around even more powerful magical creatures.

Arthur: *opens mouth, closes it, laughs* you wanna tell me that Merlin is a magical creature?

Evil King: would you care to explain, boy? *Completely serious*

Arthur: *expression falls* you can't be serious

Merlin: *remaining in his position* So, I see you did your homework

Evil King: You're a Dragon Lord

Arthur: oh come on! The last Dragon Lord is dead!

Merlin: I am the last Dragon Lord and I hatched this Dragon. You can imagine that I am NOT pleased with what I find here.

Evil King: oh. OH. That's rich. Is this your idea of peace, King Arthur? Bringing a Dragon Lord into my Kingdom? One who's out for revenge too?

Arthur: he's joking

Merlin: No, I'm not

Arthur: *huffs, and notices Merlin is also serious* Merlin, you HAVE to be joking. That THING-

Merlin: is basically my daughter.

Evil King: A wonderful job you did then, letting her fly directly into my arms

Merlin: I think you still don't understand who I am, do you.

Evil King: Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea, Emrys.

Arthur: WHO?!?!

#bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin bbc #arthur #concept #prompt #aithusa #I think it was time that they became a plot device again

[ayeforscotland]

Fierce debate in my household rn. My parents are determined that the greens have 'sided with the tories' and refuse to vote for them under any circumstances. Is that... True? What are they talking about? Did I miss something major?

Humza Yousaf shat the bed and ended the Bute House Agreement with the Greens. He did this because the Green Party were going to have a vote on whether to continue with the Bute House Agreement, so instead of letting them vote, he ended it.

While I do lean towards being sympathetic with the Greens on this, I do understand that having your partners in government vocally debating on whether to continue the agreement or not was enough for Humza to pull the trigger and end it.

That being said, he ended it without consulting the SNP membership, so has pissed a lot of people off in the process.

Green leadership was pretty furious, wanted a vote of no confidence and it's a bit of a blur but there was discussion on whether they'd submit a vote of no confidence with tory backing.

So mixed bag really, I wouldn't say they went out their way to 'side with the tories' but Humza shot himself in the foot and the Greens pounced.

I do feel like a lot of this is just the Scottish media, having fought the SNP since they went into government, finally managing to turn folk en masse against it.

People are rightfully just a bit pissy at the state of the world right now.

[waspredteeth]

I’ve noticed that a problem with the “Batman shouldn’t/should kill” debates around here is that a lot of people tend to self-insert themselves into the equation.

It’s always “if killing a violent guy in self defense is bad then I’m a murderer?” or “well, if it were me, I would’ve killed the guy a long time ago.”

Newsflash, you’re not Batman. You’re a real person where consequences can be applied and you need to live with whatever you’ve done.

Batman isn’t real. He’s a character owned by a massive company. In tense situations, you might often have no choice but to commit violence to save yourself. In a tense situation in DC, Batman has writers that can get him out of anything.

DC writers have the ability to write him out a situation where he could kill, with no violence committed and everyone safe. Now, whether or not they’d actually implement this kind of outcome is another issue entirely but the point stands.

Batman is a character with long-established personality, traits, moral code, history. Because he’s a fictional character, writers can’t change every single aspect of his character, they have to keep something otherwise they’re writing someone different. He’s not a real person whose sense of morality or justice can change as he ages and learns - because he can’t age. Rarely, he learns, but this chalks up to comics evolving over time due to the great conflicts/hot buttons of a specific time period when a story is being written.

“But Wasp! Writers self-insert themselves into Batman all the time!” You say. Yeah, they do. And 9 times out of 10, that piece of media turns out horribly wish-fulfilling and severely out of character continuity. Modern writers lost the plot when it comes to making Batman an undefeated god, but regardless he should be a hero.

Therefore, Batman shouldn’t kill because:

DC can always write him out of the necessity to kill.

He’s already been established for a long time to live and die by his own moral code.

He believes strongly in rehabilitative justice

He’s been established to be a symbol for a better Gotham. He kills, even discriminately, and then he’s no better than the hundreds of cops in his universe. Racism, classism, police brutality exist in Gotham. There’s full storylines and series about the GCPD and the role they fill in Gotham when Batman exists.

Batman does their jobs better than they do (usually). He’s supposed to represent justice in a way the police can never be. In a city like Gotham, fictional it may be, distrust and violence comes easy. Murder and assault runs rampant. A vigilante committing themselves to killing would do nothing to change Gotham, nothing to change the GCPD, nothing to project an image of safety, nothing for anyone.

Batman is Batman because he represents hope and compassion in a city without it.

#you want a vigilante that kills and is morally grey? read a damn Huntress comic #or Catwoman #or take your ass to Marvel Comics #Batman is never the character to project your personal belief in killing and death onto #you want to do that? stick to Jason #dc #dc meta #batman meta #batman #bruce wayne

[babybells123]

I’ll never get over this - what an insanely cryptic statement to make . It’s also interesting that GRRM will give long rambling answers about other ships (as he tends to do in interviews and asks) but this is his response here. Short and sweet but ambiguous and entirely up to one’s interpretation - essentially think about what you’ve read.

And then it had me thinking…

To imply that George isn’t a careful writer and doesn’t put immensely intricate thought into every sentence he writes is entirely reductive to him as a writer. Especially if you claim to be a fan of said writing (you’d have to be apart of this fandom). This is the man who has taken 13 years to write TWOW, who consistently writes, scraps, and rewrites chapters if he dislikes them or they don’t fit what he’s envisioned.

And with a fandom that has discussed, debated and analysed every possible theory - providing some well-thought out essays onto the internet, consistently stating that nothing is ever a coincidence with George before delving into a lengthy analysis - it has me wondering why said theorists and ‘very intelligent’ contingents of fans will be grasping, bursting blood vessels, losing their mind and their sanity in the process just to disprove a possible match between J/S.

Now as an example that I’ve come across just yesterday on the infamous r/asoiaf - When S*nsan is brought into the conversation, it’s absolutely accepted as a plausible theory due to *checks notes* people devoting time to and picking apart evidence and to the wider fandom either not dismissing it or remaining neutral about it. (I mean, the redditor I was made privy to yesterday just disproved the Ashford tourney theory and it’s connection to Jon on the basis that it was made by a s*nsan shipper - wow !! Thanks :)) I never knew , finally my rose tinted glasses have been removed and I can bow down to you, oh wise redditor … these J words are CRAZY delusionals indeed!!

This is just one example among the many of the possible future romances that are debated endlessly on the various social media platforms , and all said ships - whether they’ve met or interacted or are very close or whatever require analysis . Deep deep analysis. Picking apart sentences, imagery, chapter ordering, literary references you name it . We all become literature students, and every ship is privy to it and hey ! More power to them - we’re all just having fun here theorising about all the possibilities for a book/s that has not yet been released.

So it begs the question , and bear with me here - I know I’ve been talking quite a lot about people opposed to and entirely dismissive of my ship - but yesterdays’ conundrum had me thinking about generalised fandom receptiveness.

See, normal fans (normal people) when presented with a theory that they genuinely believe to be so absurd/dislike/are entirely opposed to , would simply block the user, filter the content, and move on with their lives. A far happier solution, it means you’re not worked into a frenzy over something you’re aware you don’t like. Yay! Everyone’s happy! But…..

People must be debby-downers and ruin the fun , turning into genuine clouds of negativity, invading tags in which they don’t belong, creating anti blogs, writing lengthy essays disproving it all - yep, we’ve seen it, and we just ignore it as best we can.

But it gets to a point where it’s just frustrating. Because this is all so painfully hypocritical. If said intelligent fandom can provide 3 hour video essays, 50,000 word essays and reddit debates of threads with 100+ replies based on the notion of tyrion being a targaryen, or j*nrya is actually canon or the blue rose is metaphor for a future romance whatever theory that’s been put into the world - why - gods why does the entire fandom jump on the bandwagon of hating/dismissing Jonsa as soon as it’s brought up as a theory??

When we are just doing what everyone else has been doing vigorously for the last 13 years - theorising, analysing, debating like we’re literature students (and I’m a lit major, so it does feel this way). And whilst we quietly engage with and make our content, we’re ridiculed, picked apart, and vilified elsewhere for being awfully stupid people - because ….why?? Oh yes, that’s right - it is not a valid plausible theory at all, we just ship it because we self insert as sansa and jon is a heroic figure or the even sillier assumption - because Kit and Sophie are attractive people (which indeed they are, but most theories stem from the books, lmao.)

Sooo, essentially jonsas aren’t allowed into the club because …. (Well I’m actually still wondering why), because every other popular ship theory is either incestuous or involves a child being shipped with a grown person.) so Jonsa is obviously the latter, but that’s not the reason that the general fandom (J*nerys and to an extent, J*nrya) dislike them because those too - are incestuous.

If you’re an individual who is uncomfortable with all incest ships period . Then I respect that since I understand it. What I don’t understand, as seen through reddit and what I was made privy to yesterday, - were the multitude of disprovers fine with J*nerys and J*nrya and S*nsan but god forbid someone brings up Jonsa because then it’s a crackship - except all those other ships I mentioned are valid because people have analysed and theorised and written metas etc etc etc and Jonsa’s are just plain silly crackshippers.

I really have to wonder about fandom mentality, because it’s making less and less sense to me ….

Anyway George you ARE a sly one and I’ll always giggle when I come across that image.

#jonsa #jon x sansa #anti sansa antis #fandom mentality #anti asoiaf reddit #anti asoiaf fandom #anti jonrya #anti jonerys #anti sansan

[laurasimonsdaughter]

My little selkie is finished!

I debated for a long time over whether or not to give her a human feature to show she's not a normal seal, but I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't get creepy. So I just gave her a white spark in her eyes that my other felt creatures do not have 🦭

#felt crafts #fibre arts #let me dabble in other arts #felt plush #seal #selkie #this was an old pattern from the giant folder that was passed on to me #but it didn't need any modifications!

[hayakawalove]

Test of Love (Chapter Four)

All Chapters

Summary: You decide to forgive Suguru, it's too hard -not- to.

A/N: I hope you guys are enjoying it so far! I really can't wait to start writing nasty smut for this fic. I really appreciate the comments!

CW: Fem Reader, AFAB Reader

W/C: 5,098

Credit to @benkeibear for the banner

Your class was running you ragged. When Maki wasn’t yelling at the top of her lungs, you heard Panda breaking desks. Calling it a migraine would be putting it lightly. Your skin prickled at the sight of the second years shoving each other, arguing about something or the other. You loved being a teacher, you really did, but damn if they didn’t make it hard sometimes. You plaster on a fake smile and grab Maki and Panda by the scruffs of their necks, digging your fingers in tighter the more they wiggled in your hold. 

“Stop fighting before I tie you to a tree and leave you to make up with each other.” You try to contain your anger but it leaks out in every syllable. 

“She started it!” 

“Why would I stop when-“ 

Your feet are moving before Maki can finish her sentence. You loved them to death but they were always doing something to rile you up. It wasn’t on purpose, hopefully. Panda was just Panda and Maki was just Maki. 

The harsh heat of the sun beats down on your skin as you fasten the rope across their bodies. Panda looks deflated as he sits on one side of the tree while Maki is holding back a snarl on the other side. 

“When I come back the both of you better have figured something out and apologized to each other.” You step away and admire your handiwork. 

“I’m better sure that qualifies as child abuse.” Satoru walks up to you, looking towards the tree. 

“Yeah, well, everything we do counts as child abuse.” 

Plus you weren’t doing it to hurt them. If anything you were doing it to help them. Especially Panda; Maki looked as if she was two seconds away from tearing him limb from limb. It was something she could’ve, and would’ve, done. You definitely didn’t want to have to be the one to explain that to Yaga. You were not about to be put on trial for negligence. 

You face Satoru and feel a different type of heat crawl up your cheeks. Memories from the night you spent together flood through your brain. His tongue dragging on your skin, teeth sinking into your flesh, it was hard to focus on what he was saying as you stared at his beautiful pink lips. 

Satoru says your name, jutting his face closer to yours. The close proximity causes your heart to stutter as you turn your head, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

His cologne overwhelms your senses. Cedar wood and pine. There’s butterflies in your stomach as you put on a brave face to look towards him. When you turn to him he grins, dropping his eyes to your lips before back up again. 

“You weren’t listening. Maybe you just want me for my body.” Satoru teases, before stepping away to his full height. 

“Well I certainly don’t want you for your personality.” You quip, feeling the temperature drop back down once he wasn’t invading your privacy. 

“You and Suguru are so cruel to me.” Satoru feigns disappointment. 

At the drop of the black haired males name the space between you two falls silent. You hadn’t spoken about him in several days, not since the night Satoru and you shared. 

Satoru’s the first to break the silence. 

“Have you talked to him yet?” 

You were sort of dreading that question. Because the truth was, you hadn’t talked to him. You didn’t know how. There wasn’t a rule book for this situation. Were you supposed to reach out first? It appeared like he was stepping back to give you breathing room, but you didn’t want breathing room anymore. You wanted to be suffocated by him. 

“No.” You speak under your breath, looking away again. 

You can tell Satoru understands. Whether or not he agrees with you is still up for debate. He appeared unbothered by the situation. It seemed like he thought the whole thing was funny, which you couldn’t really disagree with. It really was absurd, wasn’t it? Plus, you had a hard time believing much would cause a real fight between the two. Sure, they bickered, but you knew true fights were few and far between. 

Satoru hums and follows you back to your classroom. His students were out on a mission. Yuuta and Inumaki  had just left, effectively freeing up your schedule. There had been no word of the recent attacks lately, it appeared like the new strategy that Yaga came up with was working. For now, at least. 

“For what it’s worth, he won’t stop talking about you. It’s even starting to annoy me, and I’m the annoying one.” Satoru speaks and sits on a chair in front of your desk. 

You make yourself comfortable behind the table, getting your things ready to go. 

“I’ve never seen him so distraught before.” Satoru goes on, grabbing one of your desk decorations, fiddling with it before you snatch it from his hand. 

“Why is he the distraught one?” You ask, trying to not pay attention to the churning feeling in your gut. 

Satoru shrugs and kicks his legs up on your desk, ignoring the dirty look you give him. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to piss you off. 

“Good question. Probably because the guilt is destroying him from the inside out. Or something.” 

Satoru was dramatic. 

Even so, part of you believed what he was saying. 

You sigh and cross your arms on the desk, laying your head down. Suguru was nice, there was no doubt in your mind that he felt bad for what happened. At first, you enjoyed it a little bit, knowing that he felt bad because what he did was wrong. But that turned into guilt. You weren’t sure which of you was more remorseful now. 

“If he had it his way he would be smothering you. He’s like that, you know. But he respects space so he isn’t going full mother hen on you yet. Although the second you come around he definitely won’t hold back again.” 

You tap your forehead against your arms several times. Smothering you, huh? You’re reminded of the actions he did on your date, the ones that struck you as parental. It would make sense if he was overwhelming. Not that that was a bad thing. 

You almost had to laugh, the two men were so opposite. Suguru was overwhelming on the inside but tried to hold back, while Satoru was overwhelming on the outside, but was more reserved the closer you got. 

“Where do I even start, Satoru?” You peek out over your arm, catching a glimpse of a smile when you say his name. 

It was still taking you time to get used to it, but you liked the way it rolled off your tongue. 

You liked his name. 

“Don’t know. Whenever I piss him off I just annoy him till he gets over it. He doesn’t piss me off very much so I’m not sure what I’d do. But you could just start over with him. A redo.” 

A redo? 

You think about the idea for a moment before you hear your name being called from the courtyard. Satoru remains seated as you stand up, making your way towards the doors. Maki is yelling at you but you’re having a hard time hearing her. When you get closer, you see that the two of them look much more calm. Maybe it was a bit harsh, but it worked. 

“We forgave each other, can you let us go now?” She yells. 

You crouch and begin working the knot, thoughts floating back to Suguru. 

After work, you should do something after work. 

When you stand back up you stagger behind your students, head in the clouds as you think about Suguru. Pink covers your vision as flower petals dance to the ground in front of you. The splash of color reminds you of the butterfly wings you saw with him. It was such a magical date, you truly hadn’t been on anything like it. 

The door slams behind you as you enter your classroom and you feel your heart sink. Satoru had left. It was a shame, you were enjoying his company. You couldn’t be that upset, though. He was constantly being dragged away for missions. You needed to leave soon anyway, so you tried not to let it get to you.

~~~

The sun blurs your vision as you make your way to the old bookstore. You planned on stopping in after work to gather your thoughts before heading to Suguru’s (and Satoru’s). You find you always did your best thinking when in the confines of the book shelves. An overwhelming smell of old paper and black ink hits your nose as you walk through the threshold. It was quiet today, everyone was probably enjoying the nice weather outside instead of staying in to read. 

You wander the halls and find yourself down an aisle, looking for a specific book. Your eyes glaze over the different titles until you find the one you’re looking for. ‘In the beginning’. It was a book Suguru had told you about over text late one night. He said it wasn’t nearly as good as the one you were reading previously, but that it was still decent. You wrap your fingers around the spine and pull it out, clutching it in your hand while you go to your favorite seat. 

It was the same seat that you had met him in. You plop down and open the book, turning to the first page. You allow the words to whisk you away. 

The space around you is completely silent, save for the sounds of the fragile paper between your fingers. You don’t notice a man walking up to you. 

“That’s a good book.” A voice softer than silk reaches your ears.

Hold on.

You know that voice. 

You tear your eyes from the page to see a man standing in front of you. Hair deeper than obsidian and an angular face tilted down towards you. 

Suguru. 

“I think so,” you attempt to keep your voice steady. 

You’re reminded of your first meeting with Suguru in the cozy building. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just saw the book you were reading.” 

“It’s okay, in fact someone recommended this to me.” 

His lips twitch into a slight grin as you play along with him. A redo, Satoru’s voice plays back in your head. 

“Is that so?” He questions, sitting on the chair across from you. 

The same chair he sat in when you met. 

“Yeah, the guy has really good taste.” 

Suguru’s mouth parts as his tongue drags across his bottom lip, the action slow, vaguely reminding you of the night you saw him last. 

“What’s your name?”

You say your name, watching as his eyes glisten at the sound. 

“You have a pretty name.” His arms rest lazily on the chair, tendons littering his hands. “My name is Suguru.” 

There’s butterflies in your stomach now, just like the butterflies you saw with him at the observatory. The discussion feels like a carbon copy of the initial one you had, minus your feelings. Back then, you were nervous. But now, you were only giddy. 

“What is it you do for a living?” He asks. 

“Actually I’m a teacher.”

“Really? I’m curious if you know my boyfriend. His name is Gojo Satoru.” 

Your face cracks into a grin as Suguru opens himself up. In addition to him revealing Satoru, you could also see a wave of blue surrounding his form. Cursed energy. 

“I do, for better or worse.” 

Suguru lets out a chuckle at your words, crescent eyes locked closed as his chest rumbles. His laugh was soothing. 

You were so glad he came up to you first. Even though you were planning on going to his house after this, you still weren’t sure what you were going to say. Obviously he would know what to say. The world around you disappears as your gaze focuses on Suguru. 

It was comforting to be around Suguru. It was hard to be without him, even if you hadn’t known each other that long. 

Even though you enjoyed Satoru, and you really did enjoy Satoru, it felt right to have the two of them balance each other out. 

“I hope I’m not coming off too strong, but would you be interested in going out?” He asks. 

Yes, yes, a hundred times yes. 

“I don’t know, would your boyfriend mind?” 

“Something tells me it wouldn’t bother him.” 

You grin. 

“What’s your number?” You say this, knowing full well his contact is already in your phone. 

He reads it to you and you go to his contact, finally saving it under his name. You read your number out to him, no doubt in your mind he already has it. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” He slides his phone in his pocket. 

You watch as he departs, until you can no longer see him. You should be getting home too. 

~~~

Your feet hit the pavement as you start your walk home. You were relieved that Suguru reached out to you. You were hoping he would text you soon for details about the date. You wondered what the two of you would get up to. The last time you saw him things got heated very quickly. It felt like things had reset though, and you were glad for it. You wanted to do things right this time. 

Although you didn’t want to forget everything that happened.

Suguru’s laughter, smell, and the way his voice sounded pressed up against your ear filled your mind. 

You see a single butterfly overhead, a rare occurrence for the bustling streets of the city, and you stop in your tracks. 

You couldn’t wait for him to text you. 

Your feet move before you have a say, and you’re running to Satoru and Suguru’s apartment. You were still by the bookstore, so it would have been faster to catch a cab, but you weren’t thinking straight. 

You had wasted time being mad at him. You needed to see him again. All rational thoughts leave your head.

You stop running after thirty minutes, once their tall building stands before you. It was a bit daunting. You force yourself to step inside the building, and goosebumps immediately crawl over your skin. There was a sheen of sweat layering your forehead and your hair was a crumbled mess. The attendant eyes you, only looking away when you meet her gaze. You looked crazy. You almost thought about turning right back around, the absurdity of the situation hitting you like a freight train. 

No, you were here and you were going to do this. 

Your feet make their way to the elevator, and you thank god when it opens and there’s no one inside. You feel antsy as the elevator carries you to their floor, mind flailing as you try to come up with something to say. 

I know we just saw each other, but I want to see you again. 

What if he wasn’t home yet? That would be awkward. 

You walk towards their apartment, your fist knocking the door once you reach it. 

You’re still out of breath as the door creaks open. Suguru’s standing there, brows raised in surprise as he looks down at you. 

“Who is it?” Satoru calls from behind. 

Suguru says your name, watching as you breathe hard. 

“You here for part two?” Satoru says, a playful tone filling his words. 

Suguru’s face scrunches up as he looks behind him before turning back towards you. 

“What’s up?” 

“I want to talk to you.” You pant. 

Suguru steps out, closing the door behind him to gain some semblance of privacy. You knew Satoru probably had his ear pressed against the door, if there was anything that bugged him it was not being privy to some information. 

“I’m sorry for overreacting to what happened. I was stupid. And I just wanted to know if you wanted to go on a date soon, like tomorrow.” Your words rush out, watching as an indecipherable expression lights up Suguru’s face. 

He stops you, placing a finger underneath your chin. He tilts your face up and plants a kiss on your lips. 

“I would love to go out tomorrow.”

Your hands grip his shirt, biting your cheek as relief washes over you. 

~~~

When you meet Suguru for your second first date it was dusk. A pink orange hue had settled over the city, the bustling metropolis more quiet than usual. The sky reminds you of cotton candy and your thoughts drift to Satoru, his sweet tooth making a smile break out on your face. 

“What’s got you smiling?” Suguru breaks you from your trance when he reaches you.  

You look up at him, eyes trailing down his unwavering figure. His hair was half up half down, and he wore lazy clothes with a jacket. You liked this look on him. 

“I was just thinking of Satoru.” 

Suguru stops short in front of you, offering his arm up. You graciously accept, threading your elbow around his. A smile quirks on his lips as the two of you start off. 

“Thinking of another man on our date?” He’s poking fun at you. 

You nudge him with your shoulder, and your ear picks up on soft laughter escaping his lips. The two of you decided on dessert, agreeing that you deserved as much after a long day of work. 

Your feet carry you down a sidewalk until you reach a small dessert shop. Cakes, cookies, and ice cream were advertised on the windows, the thought of it making your mouth water. 

It’s relatively slow when you step inside. There’s several families and a group of friends, but all of them are keeping to themselves. The sweet scent of sugar fills your senses, fueling the excitement that was beginning to boil in your stomach. It seemed like such an odd place for him to take you. Honestly, it was more fitting for an idea for Satoru to pitch, not his black haired counterpart. 

You stroll up to the counter, eyes the size of the moon as you glance down at the display of sweet treats. The cakes were looking the most appealing, so you decide on that. You lift a finger up to point to a triple chocolate cake, your body shimmying slightly as the worker slices you a piece. You think you see Suguru out of the corner of your eye watching you, but you decide not to say anything. There wasn’t much of a point in getting embarrassed in front of him, he had already seen so many sides of you. Suguru requests a slice of vanilla cake and pays, shortly following you to a table in the back of the shop. 

You don’t feel nearly as nervous as you did when you had your first date. There was already this calm understanding between the two of you (something that probably happened after you grinded against him in the club). 

The two of you talk about your days, the conversation flowing just as easily as it did whenever you talked to Satoru. Suguru told you he was off today, and spent most of the morning cleaning his apartment. 

“I was a bit surprised you didn’t reach out first, Satoru said you tended to be smothering.” You laugh to yourself, sliding your fork through the cake. 

It tears like paper, the texture moist and fluffy. Homemade chocolate icing decorated the outside, spirals printed into the cake. 

“Did he?” Suguru asks rhetorically, crossing a leg over his other, taking a bite of his dessert. 

“He did. Although I’m a bit surprised. I would have thought he would be the smothering one, just based on his personality type. But at times he seems a bit guarded.” 

Suguru remains quiet as you speak, his eyes remaining downcast as he thinks. 

“He is. He just isn’t used to opening up around people. From what I hear though, he has no problem talking to you.” 

You dig your teeth into your bottom lip and grin, dragging the fork to your mouth. The dessert melts onto your tongue, tainting your lips brown. 

“I would like to think so. I mean, he’s not always guarded. He told me he gets needy after-“ you stop yourself, staring into your cake. You drag your eyes up and see Suguru watching you, an intrigued look on his face. After looking down once more you finish your sentence. “Sex.” 

Suguru’s brow lifts as his eyes stay steady on you. The hair on the back of your neck raises. 

“When’d he say that?”

Your eyes are glued to the table in front of you as your body heat rises twenty degrees. When did it get so hot? You can feel Suguru’s eyes staring into you, no doubt trying to read your mind. You’re really glad he can’t, because if he could he would see your night with Satoru replaying over and over. 

It wasn’t that you were afraid of telling Suguru you and Satoru had sex (sort of), he knew you were also seeing him. Hell, he almost had sex with you first. So why did it feel like you were caught red handed? 

“Oh um, a couple days ago.” 

Suguru’s head tilts as he continues looking at you, obviously not satisfied with your answer. You feel a bit like a mouse, with Suguru seeming like a cat who had his gaze set on you. 

“How’d that come up?” 

Surely he was fucking with you. He knew exactly what happened. Satoru must’ve told him, right? The fucker couldn’t keep anything to himself, you wouldn’t be surprised if Satoru bragged to Suguru as soon as he could. 

“When we,” you fiddle with your fingers, unable to meet his eyes. 

You were an adult for Christ's sake, so why did you feel so small under his gaze? 

Those fucking eyes of his. 

Suguru lets out a chuckle and raises his fork to his mouth. Your chest feels lighter at the break in tension, your shoulders sagging in relief. He takes one more bite before pushing his plate towards you. 

“Come on, try it.” 

You look up at him and grin, grateful he was letting you off the hook. You pierce your fork in his cake, dipping it in your mouth. The vanilla compliments the chocolate well, the mixture making your eyes roll to the back of your head. 

“You can have the rest of it. If not, I’m just gonna give it to Satoru, he practically begged me to let him join us but I told him you weren’t ready for that yet,” Suguru rests his head on his hand, watching you eat. “You aren’t, right?” 

That is what you told Satoru. You wanted to take it slow, and enjoy your time with each man separately before diving head first into a polyamorous relationship. You probably should wait, it was already overwhelming to spend time with them one at a time, you weren’t sure how you would be able to handle both at once. 

You did, however, know you wanted to. 

“Yeah, not yet at least. I do want to, it’s just,” you cut yourself off. 

How are you supposed to tell him that both of their presences make you feel like you’re drowning? 

“I get it.” Suguru’s voice soothes you. 

Of course he would. You remember what Satoru had to say about Suguru. Nice and understanding. They were the same words you would use to describe him as well. It was sort of weird, though. For years you had heard small bits about this man through Satoru or Yaga. 

You knew he would sometimes snore when he was starting to get sick. You knew he was smarter than Satoru in all subjects besides math and science. You knew what his breakfast order was. But you just had never known him. You never knew what he looked like, how he smelled, how your name sounded off his lips. 

But now you did. And you were so grateful. 

You nudge the plate forward back towards Suguru, feeling as though your stomach may burst. There were several bites left, and you were sure that Satoru would chide Suguru for not leaving him more. 

“I can’t eat anymore, you might just have to roll me out of here.” You rub your hand across your stomach, leaning back into the chair. 

Suguru smiles at that. You’ve decided you really liked his smile. 

It’s dark when the two of you step outside, a cool breeze causing a chill to run up your spine. You shiver, an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by Suguru. He shrugs off his jacket and carefully drapes it over your shoulders, and moves a piece of hair out of your face, sliding it behind your ear. Smothering. The word runs through your mind again. Suguru was doting, that much was obvious. But you could see how it may come off as overbearing. You wouldn’t mind being smothered by Suguru. You doubt Satoru minded it either, in fact you were sure it must have contributed to the reason Satoru was a spoiled brat. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” He squeezes your hand. 

You rest your head against his arm as the two of you walk back to your house. You had only gone out to eat, yet somehow it had felt magical. Not only did it feel magical, but it felt normal. You liked that about Suguru. Being with him felt like you were in a fairytale, and at the same time you felt like an ordinary girl. You never spoke about work with him, he allowed you to just be. 

Not that you hated that about Satoru. In fact, you quite liked it. It was nice having someone who understood you and the work you were doing, someone you could bitch to whenever Yaga got on your nerves. They really did balance each other out well. 

The moon lights up your path as you walk besides Suguru, the low sounds of the city a low buzz in your ears. It was never quiet here. You didn’t really mind it. You probably would’ve been paranoid if it was quiet. Anytime you had a mission in a small town it felt like you were waiting for something to jump out at you. 

You decide you want to hear Suguru’s voice some more. 

“Hey Suguru?” 

He hums, eyes flickering down at you before returning to the sidewalk. 

“What do you like about Satoru?” You’ve been meaning to ask. 

For years you heard Satoru talk about Suguru, so you were interested in hearing what the other man had to say. 

Suguru stops and looks around a bit dramatically. He’s looking at the bushes that line the pavement, and over the parked cars. 

“What’re you doing?” You stop and watch him. 

“Seeing if Satoru’s hiding somewhere. Did he put you up to asking that?” 

You start to laugh, your hand coming up to cover your mouth. You close your eyes as you chuckle. It really is something that Satoru would ask. 

When you open your eyes you see Suguru looking down at you, watching as you laugh. Your heart skips a beat at the way his eyes shine in the moonlight. A soft smirk is painted on his face while he looks at you. 

“No, no he didn’t. I just wanna know. He’s talked about you a lot, you know.” 

Suguru dips his head and turns forward again, starting to walk. You follow after him and look up, watching as he talks. 

“He’s just Satoru. It’s hard to explain. He’s annoying, noisy, cocky-” Suguru lists off. 

“Pretty sure I asked what you like about him.” You stop him. 

“-but he's also intelligent, funny, and caring. He cares so much for people, even though he has a weird way of showing it.” Suguru uses a tone you've never quite heard him use before. 

“I never really felt understood by people. I come from a family of nonsorcerers, so for a while it just sort of felt like I was the only one who existed. I love my family, but they never really understood me, still don’t.” 

You come from a family of nonsorcerers too, so you knew the feeling all too well. You were so damn lonely as a kid. 

“And then when I met Satoru it was like my world shifted. Not only was he a sorcerer as well, but he was the strongest one. Or, on track to become the strongest one at least. I didn’t feel alone anymore. And I haven’t ever since.” 

You feel weightless at his words. The love the two of them had for each other was unbreakable. The kind of love you could only read about, the kind of love you weren’t sure really existed until now. 

Your heart aches at the possibility of them loving you in the same way. It was something you had dreamed about since you were little. They might not love you in the exact same way, but they might love you just as much. You begin to feel dizzy at the prospect. 

Your apartment comes into view and you feel a little sad that your date was over. You would be seeing him again, you remind yourself. 

“Don’t tell him I said any of that, though. His head is big enough as is.” Suguru murmurs. 

You laugh and agree. Satoru would not shut up if you told him what Suguru said. Something told you that Satoru knew how much Suguru loved him, though. 

Your feet stop as you reach your apartment. Suguru faces you and smiles as you begin to take off his jacket. 

“Keep it, what if your apartment is cold too?” 

You bite back a smile, wrapping it around you once more. He wanted you to keep it. 

“Smart, I wouldn’t want to catch a cold in my house.” 

“I would never forgive myself if you did.” 

Suguru’s eyes lock with yours. He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead. Warmth blooms across your skin, crawling down your body. He pulls back and pushes his lips against yours, the taste of him seeping through you. He tasted like vanilla. 

Your eyes flutter open when he steps away. You tug his jacket around you tighter, waving as he turns to go home.

Those two boys were going to be the death of you. 

Tag List: @tojislittleprincesss, @dinolvrrr, @kimi01985, @constawrites, @spookysoowpprince,

@reosnagi, @faerie-soirxx, @platrom, @oownowonwoo, @megumisdivinedogs,

@sakui1, @maskedpacific, @riri-twix

If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know, and specify if you only want to be on the taglist for this fic or all my works

#my writing #suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #suguru x you #suguru geto x you #geto x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #satoru x you #gojo x reader x suguru #poly satosugu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk

[rosewaterandivy]

symptoms of the culture

Summary: Last call at the bar and you’re still here? Jesus Christ girl, get yourself together!

Pairing: e.m. x f!reader

W.C.: 1.9k

A/N: a continuation of our meet cute with eddie ☺️

Meeting Eddie at the bar was like something from a romantic comedy, and unlike everything you’d experienced before.

He did end up letting you buy that drink after all, which turned in to him buying you a drink because “it’s the polite thing to do.”

Your friend checked in maybe once or twice before deciding you could handle yourself, if it came to that (she didn’t seem to think that would be the case though). The crowd had dwindled down to mostly the regulars and friends of the bartenders, and you didn’t realize how late it had gotten until someone bellowed, “Last call!”

Eddie’s deft fingers traced the rings of condensation on the wooden table, dragging droplets of water into various shapes. Enthralled, you quickly realized that you could watch him do something like that all day, if you weren't careful.

“Shit,” You say, downing the last of your beer, “I didn’t mean to hold you up for so long.”

His lips kick up to one side, dimples prominent despite the low light. There’s a glint in his eye as he looks you up and down, a slow assessment that has you shifting in your seat.

“Riddle me this, sugar,” He says drumming his fingers on the table, “You really think there’s any place I’d rather be?”

And with that, he leaves to pay the tab, leaving his question hanging in the air.

Not that you could have formulated a semblance of a response anyway. Grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair, you shove your free hand into your purse to scrounge up your card to cover the tab as you sidle up beside him at the bar top.

Eddie’s got two bills in front of him, one large hand over each so you can’t figure out which is yours. Going to pluck either one from his grasp is useless, and after the second attempt, he simply holds it above your head and out of your reach.

“Try me, short stuff,” He taunts with a huff of a laugh. “Besides, your money’s no good here.”

Thinking twice before you could potentially demean yourself by actually jumping up to steal the bill from him, you turn to the bartender with a smile instead to ask:

“Can you print another bill please?”

And once you’ve supplied your last name, it should be a done deal. You expect him to reply with a nod and a ‘you got it’, accompanied by the familiar sound of a receipt being printed.

Instead, it goes a little something like this:

The bartender turns to glance at Eddie, and he gives the bartender some sort of look— which, what would the bartender need approval from a patron? Then, he shoves both receipts into the jar by the register and leans against the bar top and props an elbow on it as he faces you, like he’s waiting for something.

“Can’t do it.” The bartender sighs, “The bossman says you’re money’s no good here, them’s the rules.”

You try, and fail, to keep your jaw from dropping.

“Y-you own this bar? You’re that Eddie?”

“In the flesh and at your service.”

A beat of silence passes between you as the bartender clears his throat and begins closing preparations.

“Well, technically,” Eddie allows, with a twist of his lips, “I co-own it with a buddy of mine. This and couple of other places around town.”

And, well. For someone who dresses like they should be in a biker gang or fronting a prog-metal band, Eddie sure didn’t strike you as a real estate mogul.

“That’s cool,” You say with a nod, hand shoved into your purse once more. Rifling around a bit, you come back with a glorious fist of cash and shove it into the kitty near the register that simply reads, Alms for the pour.

“Soooo,” He drawls, the awkward end of the night coming upon you rapidly. “You good to drive or…?”

“Oh, no worries,” You say flippantly, quickly debating whether your should call an Uber at the hour of just suck it up and walk home. You could cut through campus and maybe shave five minutes off of the journey, anyway.

“I can get you an Uber—”

“No, it’s fine, really.” You adjust the shoulder strap of your bag and grab your keys, “I live just off the campus, it’s walkable from here.”

Eddie’s fingers loop around your wrist before you can say your goodbyes and high-tail it out of there. The silver of his rings glints in the light and the cool metal contrasts with the warmth of his hand as it engulfs yours.

“Nuh uh, not happening.” His tone leaves no room for discussion. “I’m not gonna let you walk—”

“It’s not even a mile!” You interject, “I cut through campus and skirt the park and I’m golden.”

“The park? At three in the morning?” He shakes his head, fingers forming a bracelet around your wrist, “Not even sorry to say, that is unequivocally not happening.”

Eddie tugs you with him as he passes behind the bar and down a small corridor to the back office.

“You good closing on your own Matty?”

The bartender, Matty, you assume, nods with an easy smile.

“Sure, Ed.”

Eddie releases your hand to grab a backpack and a helmet. He tosses the bag to you saying, “Throw your purse in there, you don’t mind wearing that on the bike, right?”

“I really am fine walking home, I haven’t fallen or stumbled in years,” You say as he turns back around, “That’s how good I am.”

“It’s not your walking capabilities I’m worried about here, sugar.” He holds the black helmet in his hands, fingers drumming on the closed visor. “It’s the creeps.”

“This from you, the man that very nearly creeped me out earlier tonight?”

Matty fails to stifle his laugh from the desk.

Eddie rolls his eyes in exasperation, “Yeah, laugh it up newbie.” Taking you by the shoulder, he steers you toward the service entrance and you find yourself not even trying to come up with excuses anymore.

Well, except for:

“Oh, you meant bike as in motorcycle.”

He snorts from behind you, finishing the job of zipping the backpack, now containing your purse, and looping the straps around your shoulders.

“Well it’s certainly not a pennyfarthing, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“I’ve never been on one before.”

“No time like the present.”

Clapping you on the shoulder, he turns you around to face him and pries a hair tie from his wrist. You take it from his outstretched hand, your fingertips brushing for a fleeting moment. Without much fuss, you throw your hair into a loose bun at the nape of your neck.

“May I?” Eddie asks, presenting you with the helmet.

After you nod, he deftly flips the helmet around and takes a step closer to place it on your head. It’s not a perfect fit, but it’ll have to do. He has you shake your head left and right, then up and down before he’s satisfied you won’t crack your skull on the pavement.

In a few strides he’s near the bike, and mounting it in one fluid motion. His legs are long and pretty fucking perfect for, oh you don’t know, maybe straddling later yourself.

But now you’re just getting ahead of things.

You follow his lead and step toward the bike; taking his offered hand as you find your seat behind him.

“So,” Eddie says leaning to start up the bike, once he’s satisfied that your feet are on the foot rest. “All you really gotta do is hold on.”

Your hands go to his shoulders and you can feel them rise with his soft chuckle.

“That’s cute,” He says, taking both your hands in his and moving them to his waist, which causes you to bridge the few inches of space between your bodies to accomodate the movement.

I mean, there are worse things than having your tits smooshed up against some guy’s back on a motorcycle, right?

“You good?”

And you can barely hear him over the rev of the engine, so you nod and raise your voice to rattle out your address. He half-turns toward you, eyes finding yours through the visor of the helmet and giving you a wink.

He grips the handles, pulls the clutch, and kicks off.

“Alright, sugar, let’s get you home.”

Holding on for dear life, you quickly learn that as he leans, you lean. There’s a lot of movement on a bike that you hadn’t anticipated, so much so that Eddie’s shirt, at some point, rides up his abdomen. Too busy gawking at the sights and sounds of your first motorcycle ride, you don’t notice the subtle warming of your fingertips against his bare skin until it’s too late.

You were confident that the sound of the engine would drown out the unfortunate squeak that escaped your mouth, but at the feeling of Eddie’s stomach muscles contracting in what could only be laughter, and the shaking of his shoulders, now has you second guessing yourself.

Oh, well.

Rolling to a smooth stop in front of your apartment, he kills the engine and helps you off the bike.

Back on solid ground, you slough off the backpack and unzip it to grab your purse and keys. You pass it back to him and remove the helmet, mourning briefly the soft scent of tobacco and clary sage— his cologne, maybe?

Hooking a finger through the hair tie at the back of your neck, you pull it out, and shake your hair from its confines before offering it back to him.

Eddie just smiles with a shake of his head, “Nah, keep it— I gotta million of ‘em.”

He stays seated on the bike, eyes whiskey-warm and crinkling at the edges. With a shrug, you push the elastic up and around your hand to settle on your wrist.

It’s relatively quiet for a winter’s night around the campus, all the undergrads gone home for the holidays and not expected back until mid-January. A brisk wind blows and a shiver runs through you, one hand rubbing furiously along your arm, while the other grips the helmet resting against your hip.

All the while, Eddie simply sits there to drink you in. Eyes roving across the full of your cheeks, the elegant slope of your neck and the necklaces strung there. Your hair wild and waving in the breeze. And even if it’s cold outside, he can’t bring himself to notice— not with you looking like that standing there before him.

“Hey, Eddie,” You say, stepping toward him. Taking the helmet in both hands, you put it on for him and have half a mind to make him go through the head shaking nonsense he was adamant over back at the bar. But it fits him perfectly, just your luck.

Before stepping back and retreating into your apartment, he takes your hand in his and gives it a slight squeeze. You can feel the heat skittering under your skin, terribly welcome in the cold morning air.

Squeezing his fingers back in return, you part with a soft, “Happy New Year.”

He watches as you open the front door of your ground floor apartment, giving him a shy wave as a dog barks from somewhere behind you. He can see your lips moving as you turn back to say something to the dog, smiling as you bend to greet them.

Kicking off as the door closes and the lights flick on in your home, Eddie cruises down the deserted street with a smile on his face.

And maybe, this could turn out to be his year after all.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #fic: ml #Spotify

[xeas]

Can you please do a Norton and fool's gold with a reader where the reader has cinnamoroll personality (cinnamoroll is from sanrio)

MIND OVER MATTER IS MAGIC!

🍍 IN WHICH: drabbles (seperately) of Norton Campbell and Fool's Gold with a reader who is like cinnamoroll from sanrio (basically, shy yet sweet who will also help out their friends whenever they can)

🥥 NOTE FROM XEA!: thank you so much for your request! i love writing for norton but im wary my fools gold may ooc...haha...

🫧CONTENT WARNINGS: pre-established relationship, Norton may appear overprotective, mc may appear to be 'pure and innocent' in a fashion that may be perceived as corny to some readers. reader is referred to as "doll" in Norton's section, "babyface" in Fools Gold's. Seer is mentioned and Grave keeper is implied in Fools Gold section. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!

NORTON CAMPBELL; The Prospector

NORTON swears up and down he's done nothing worthy of him deserving you.

The way your thumb grazes his knuckles in a comforting manner--whether to soothe your own nerves or his is unsure-- but the expression of innocence coated on your face both makes his heart sink to his stomach and gives him butterflies.

You have the eyes of someone who has gazed at few possible traumatic scenarios and the skin of one who not been lashed by the harsh truths of the world. He squishes down his feeling of envy when he feels he's going too far down the rabbit hole of his thoughts.

But now, as he bandages up your wound from the cold Night Watch, he can't help but realize how that weighs you down. It wasn't supposed to be you with the gash in your thigh it was supposed to be the teammate you wasted no time saving. You took a hit for them, and for what? So they could have a futile 5 seconds to run as fast as they could only for the harsh winter wind to yank them back to the hunter? You we're such a fool, having so much faith in these people.

But that's what led you two to become such a power couple. You gave him a chance.

"Norton-"

"Hush up, doll." And you do just that.

He looks angry and you feel nervous because of it.

"I'm sorry for getting injured." You mumble quietly. You don't expect a 'Its fine' or a 'Its not your fault' because this was a rookie mistake and you by no means are a rookie.

He remains silent, finishing up dressing your wound. His gloved hands go to hold your thighs as you sit in some corner of burned down building in the Arms Factory.

"Don't do that again." He states. Its not up for debate and you silently nod, moving to give his forehead a kiss as you steady yourself to get up and work on getting out of here.

NORTON CAMPBELL; Fools Gold (Hunter Identity)

"Hm, shame. Really."

Fools Gold let out a teasing laugh as he shoved you into a chair. He leaned on the wall behind it as you glared up at him. Fools gold clicked his tongue (does he even have one??) and fake pouted, most likely mocking you.

"D'aw, don't look at me like that, Babyface. You wouldn't be like this if you didn't sacrifice yourself for that silly little seer."

At least he was brutally honest.

Your muscles are screaming at you and you can feel them throbbing after you spent the last 2 minutes running and jumping and rolling to get away from him.

He traces your jawline with his pickaxe, you can feel your face heat up as Fools Gold lets out a wheezing chuckle. "All bark huh?"

You try to stutter out a response not until you see the ground beside you break. This was going to take a while.

୨🐙୧ ‧ 𝙃𝘼𝙑𝙀 𝘼𝙉 𝘼𝙈𝘼𝙕𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘿𝘼𝙔! ⋆ ˚｡

🌺 𝙓𝙊𝙓𝙊,

XEA!

#idv x reader #id5 x reader #Norton Campbell x reader #Norton Campbell #idv prospector #idv prospector x reader #Fools Gold x reader #Fools Gold #Identity V x reader

[front-facing-pokemon]

hi thank you for your wonderful work. if you have a second (+ want to! /no pressure at all) would you do alcremie's caramel swirl with strawberry sweets? thank you so much you're a wonderful human being sending you 100 million shiny luck and 100% crit rate <3

sure! then i'll give you all an update from the future that a few fans of certain pokémon will appreciate

i believe these should be right? hopefully those are to your liking!

NOW!! my update. now that i've got a consistent process for making sure models look as good as they can, i've gone back and replaced some of the ones that looked a little less-than-stellar due to my old process. these include hatenna, hattrem, sinistea, and polteageist. i've edited the original posts to include their updated models (and they should look just like they do in-game now!) i debated about whether i wanted to reblog the posts to make sure everyone could see them (especially since i imagine not many folks read responses to asks [especially not this early in the morning]), but i figured i would just link them here just in case so as to not spam your dashboards (and possibly notifications, if you have those on! i'd like to be courteous on your cognitive load!)

now. the rest of the asks:

i find it hard to believe anyone likes mr mime, really. i think it's hard to take one look at it and not feel a primal sense of Disgust for this creature

forgot about that! yes, the sentiment seems to be that this thing should probably have been a bug-type. plus, fighting/bug? silly typing. four times weak to flying, yes, but it's!!!! silly!!! bug that punches you??? yes please

well then here's more alcremie content just up at the top! you're welcome

and now, nose ratings:

personally i think ponyta had a very nice sneefer. so mean :/

#long post #not pkmn #nose ratings #i just hope that the true sinistea/polteageist/hatenna/hattrem fans see this so they don't think i just don't care about those pokémon #that's what i really care about. the ten or so folks who were WAITING for those pokémon and may have been disappointed #by the quality they got. i've updated them‚ sinistea/polteageist/hatenna/hattrem fans… #i keep trynna type “hattenna”. because hattrem and hatterene have two Ts. at least it's not hatena. like flipnote hatena #you're welcome for making you remember that‚ by the way

[srraphim]

(𓆩♱𓆪)."𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑺"

ׂ╰┈➤. A frail touch for a fragile soul.

╰➤𝐖𝐇𝐁.𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫.𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫

A/N:

Not very yandere ehh? Just wanted to elaborate more on the last of the Headcanon so this is just a pure fluff. Also debating whether to open the request box or not since I'm losing ideas and I'm not fully confident in myself that I'm actually gonna write it.

(⚠︎)𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑫𝑬𝑫:

𝐁𝐨𝐝𝐲.𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫. 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫.����𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐆.𝐍.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐎𝐎𝐂.

"A-ah... May you move it down?"

A subtle twitch coming from the plumage as you obliged. Daintily, you began trailing your finger lower, grazing at the edge of the matted feathers but not entirely touching it as you scrutinize for any indications of pride's discomfort. Suddenly, a sense of ripple goes down throughout his skin and comes contact under your fingertip. Causing you to halt your action when you find the area. "W-wait. There- that's the spot" Acknowledging his response, you nodded and took a pair of medical gloves, a clean towel and a cream. After making sure that you've worn the gloves properly, you began inspecting his injured wings.

While you are currently in a of work, you can occasionally catch a noise coming from Lucifer. The sound was very subtle that it's almost possible to miss, but the solitary of the room, saves from you and the fallen angel, helps you pick up on it. Parting your hand away, you quires if something was amiss. Lucifer only hangs his head. The fringe of his hair coating the majority of his face, leaving only the other visible eyes he uses to glance at you from behind. "No, sorry. I just felt something. You may continue"

You nod as you return your attention back on his wings. Somehow, no amount of exertion you put on wiping, rubbing or even massaging in Lucifer's wings could potentially clean it wholly. The blood would start gushing itself and will continue on the second you stop working. The fractures of the smaller bones keep growing even when there's no flesh nor feather that could support it. The skin continues to gap and mold wide, trying to adjust at the sheer size of his mutilated pinion. It's almost as if it never stops reacting in the aftermath of breaking his wings. You were slowly growing tired doing the same operation, but you couldn't afford to voice your complaints for the sake of upsetting your angel.

"Sorry. This must start bothering you, yes?" A weak sigh was followed after the statement as he adjust himself on the floor, seemingly growing sore on his previous position. You shake your head; no. Trying to hide your exasperation as you tap Lucifer's shoulder and declare that you're done. Even if the appearance remains the same, but at least you make sure that his wings won't catch any infection or bacteria.

@srraphim 4.29.24. Minors NDI

#what in hell is bad #whb x reader #𓆩♱𓆪.srraphim.

[maybege]

What If - Part 3

Summary: The more you get to know Paz Vizsla, the more you fall for him.

Pairing: alpha!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 5.8k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, explicit sexual content, size kink (Paz is big-big), semi-public sex, thigh riding, cockwarming, dirty talk, idiots in love

Whoop whoop! Another weekend, another part! This is, technically, part 2.2 with some more smut, some fluff, some idiots in love and a very special adorable guest star that could not miss if we want to talk about Paz in S3. Thank you so much to everyone who wrote a comment or reblogged the story so far, I really appreciate it and I hope that you enjoy this part too. The next (and last) part will be out either next week or the week after, just because I need to channel all the angst lol

Again: Just a little reminder, that this is not strictly adhering to canon and I am just roughly imagining what actually happened during these episodes.

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

You woke up alone the next morning, the sun already high in the sky. It was later than usual but you felt so blissed out, you could not really bring yourself to care. Your entire body felt deliciously exhausted and as you stretched your arms over your head, letting out a big yawn, you realized that you had slept better in this stranger’s (though could still call Paz Vizsla a stranger now?) bed than in the last few years in your own cot.

There was a fresh bowl of fruit on the desk and this time you did not hesitate to devour the tasty berries which you knew he had meant for you. The sheer fact alone that Paz Vizsla had organized breakfast for you made your heart race.

The sun was out in full force by the time you left the ship. You could see people milling about, carrying crates this and that way and for a moment you felt bad that you had slept the day away instead of helping.

But then you thought about how your job for these few days was to be a calmer. And if your alpha (yours) was calm and happy and made your heart skip a beat, then you had done your job by keeping the peace and prolonging Axe Wove’s life for yet another day.

Rounding the ship to get to the inventory, you passed by another ramp, this one almost completely abandoned except for a small figure that huddled at the entrance. When you came close enough, you realised it was a child. Still helmeted with the same blue as Paz’s clan, but certainly a child if the frail shoulders and little hands were anything to go by.

For a moment, you hesitated. You didn’t know what it was like in their clan but in yours, it was rare to see a foundling on their own and even rarer to leave them on their own if they were upset. So you approached him.

“Hi,” you greeted the child sitting, “You okay?”

You could hear sniffles under his helmet and your heart broke. Clearly, they were not okay.

“Yeah,” the boy mumbled, turning away from you, “Go away.”

Forgotten were the happy activities of last night and the way Paz Vizsla could make you smile even in his absence. “Were – do you maybe want to talk to one of the elders of your tribe?”

He shook his head fervently.

“Sometimes it helps me to speak about it with a friend,” you suggested lightly, “Do you have a friend you want to talk to? I could get them if you like?”

“I don’t need your help,” he spat suddenly and you recognized the hurt in his voice, your mouth grimacing at the pain he must feel. And you were not about to abandon a hurt child, no matter how angry they might be.

True to your feelings, it did not take long before he spoke up. His voice was much softer than before.

“They said I could not be a good Mandalorian because –“ he shook his head again, folding his arms over his knees.

“Because?” you asked carefully, debating whether any of the clans might be offended if you consoled this child. But in the end, you decided, you all just valued the foundlings’ happiness.

“Because I have never been to Mandalore.”

You hummed in acknowledgement.

“Most of the people here have never been to Mandalore,” you explained gently, “I haven’t been either and you don’t see me being treated like I’m no Mandalorian, right?”

He tilted his head, musing over your words. You could see how he was debating your helmetless existence and not for the first time did you wonder what it was like to grow up in one of the more stricter tribes. Whether their foundlings grew up knowing that there were other ways – many ways, actually – to the same goal.

“My dad has been to Mandalore,” he said suddenly with the pride only a child could have.

“Really?” you asked, “And he never told you that you need to have been on Mandalore to be a true Mandalorian?”

He shook his head eagerly. “No, he said I am a true Mandalorian no matter where I was or not. The important thing is to honour the way of the warriors,” he quoted his father with a deeper voice and you smiled at his antics.

“Your father sounds like a very wise man,” you nodded, “And don’t you think he would know a bit more about being Mandalorian than your fellow foundlings?”

That seemed to give him pause. “Yes, my buir is very smart,” he said thoughtfully, “And I don’t think that Loren and Say’na have been to Mandalore either, actually.”

“See?” you nudged him playfully, “They don’t know what they’re talking about either. We are all just on our journey to become Mandalorian.”

The boy nodded, clearly in a cheerier mood than before. Then he turned to you fully. “I am Ragnar,” he inclined his head, “This is the way.”

Recognizing it as his greeting, you repeated your name and the phrase,

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked eagerly, “Have you dreamt about it? I have. I think it is going to be full of the highest mountains and no caves in sight, I don’t like caves. And waterfalls too! Buir said he saw a waterfall as a child and he promised one day he would show me.”

Grinning at his excited chatter, you listened carefully to the pictures he painted with his words. Of snow-capped mountains and rain forests so full of rain, there would never be any deserts in sight. (Turns out Ragnar did not like deserts nor the creatures that lived in them.)

“What do you think Mandalore will look like?” he asked again after a while and despite the blacked-out visor on his face, you could picture his eyes twinkling in delight.

“I think it will be full of grassy hills and lakes,” you revealed, “When I was little, I always dreamed that I could wake up to the sound of waves and take a swim whenever I wanted. Has your buir told you what Mandalore is like?”

“Buir does not like to talk about it,” he shrugged, “But I am sure if you would ask him nicely, he would tell you! He always says I'm too small for that stuff but you are big! Though my buir is bigger, he is the best warrior in our tribe and one day, I am just going to be like –“

“Who do we have here?”

“Buir!” the boy called excitedly and you watched with utter surprise and fascination as he jumped up straight into the arms of the warrior who had kept you company the last few nights.

“You are – He is – What –“

“Getting all speechless again, ‘mega?” the large man joked, “Seems I have that kind of effect on you, huh?”

You were so flustered you did not know what to say. Instead, you just snapped your mouth shut as your brain worked overtime. Paz had a son. Ragnar was Paz’s son. Paz was Ragnar’s father.

Now that you saw them together, their helmets the same colour as the night sky, you wondered how you had not realized it earlier. But Paz had never mentioned a child. And as you watched Paz set Ragnar down again, a heavy hand on his shoulder, you wondered whether Ragnar might have a mother somewhere that still played a role in Paz’s life.

The thought made you feel strangely queasy.

“Buir, she has never seen Mandalore before either,” Ragnar announced, looking up at his father, “Maybe I can be a good Mandalorian after all.”

“How many times have I told you your value as a warrior quality is not dependent on whether you have been to Mandalore,” he chided his son gently in a way that parents often did when their children finally had a revelation after years of them telling them the exact same thing.

“Sometimes it helps to hear it from someone else,” you said quietly. Paz’s gaze snapped to you and you swallowed.

“I suppose that is right,” he said and as Ragnar decided to jog back to his now-again friends to play, Paz came to stand in front of you in all his glory, covering the sun from your face.

“Ragnar is very sweet,” you started shyly, “I didn’t know he – or that you – He … he is very proud to be Mandalorian.”

“That he is,” your alpha replied, “Some clans don’t see him as my son ever since I found him all alone but to me and mine he is my son in all the ways that matter.”

“Our clan has the concept of foundlings, too, you know?” you smiled, your heart bursting in your chest at how protective he was over his son, “He is very proud of his father.”

“And I am very proud of my son,” he replied, “He, uh, he only recently had his helmet ceremony. And it got interrupted in a – he – let’s just say there is nothing I would not do for him. A world without him is no world for me.”

“And that is all that matters,” you reassured him, your heart skipping a beat while your head tortured you with images of what he would be like as a father of your children.

“Did you sleep well?”

You shook your head slightly, shaking off the question of whether he would mind being the father of your future children, “I did, though I am a bit sore.”

His hands immediately appeared at your side, gently helping you up as if soreness rendered you incapable of carrying your weight on your legs. You snorted, feverishly trying not to think about how the heat of his body seeped through your clothes, “Alpha, it is not that bad.”

“I like it when you call me alpha,” he rumbled, not seeming the least bit worried about his concern for you, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you properly, “You did it last night … maybe you can do it tonight too.”

Your core felt molten at the thought of being in his arms for the rest of the day and you were sure he could see how your chest was heaving in excitement. Though as much as you wanted to, there was a tiny voice in the back of your head that made you hesitant.

“I am not sure if I can leave again,” you spoke out loud, “It … Would you truly be okay with me joining your clan quarters for the night again?”

“I don’t think it will come to that conversation at all,” Paz said, his hand sweeping over your back, “The council has decided,” he announced quietly, “We will make our way to Mandalore by nightfall. And if you are comfortable with the thought, I'd like to share my cot with you.”

*

The ship offered no privacy.

While Paz did have his private room –  the one you had spent the previous night in – getting all clans onto one or two ships, meant having to share and rethink the limited space available. As a sign of respect to the clan leader, Paz Vizsla offered Sluice his room and she accepted.

This meant that Paz, along with his fellow warriors, was assigned one of the bunk beds. And one of them meant one of 64 in a large narrow room with too high ceilings and four bunks stacked on top of each other.

The worry in his voice was clear, even through the helmet, when you helped him carry his personal belongings (including a very soft blanket you distinctly remembered cuddling into), assuring you that you could change your mind. But the thought of leaving Paz had not occurred to you once and when you pointed out that several calmers had joined their alphas in the large room and none of them seemed to mind, his shoulders had visibly relaxed.

“We will find privacy in other corners of the ship,” he had promised you, his voice low and deep and sending shivers down your spine.

Only you had not expected him to find privacy so soon.

You were walking down one of the abandoned hallways of the ship, trying to get a feel for the layout so you would not get lost on your way to the cantina again. The negotiations had been postponed once more and with Paz in his polished armour, bent over a strategy table, you decided to flee the cockpit so Chants could not see just how needy you were for your alpha.

Your alpha.

You smiled, the warm feeling in your chest expanding until your entire body felt warm and cosy, thrumming at the thought of him. Could it be that Paz Vizsla really was your alpha? You had never expected to find what some of the elders had called true mates: a person – an alpha – that was just perfect for you and for whom you were perfect. And while you were not sure if you were truly someone that he would want forever, you were getting surer and surer that he was that someone for you.

You were just about to turn a corner when a hand closed around your upper arm and drew you back. Instincts kicked on and you squeaked, flinging your leg back to try and kick back into your attacker but they turned you around so quickly, you had no chance. Within moments, your back was pressed into the cool metal wall behind you, with no option of escape. And a blue helmet entered your vision. “Paz,” you gasped just before his hand came down on your throat. He was not wearing his gloves, which meant he must have planned it all beforehand. You wondered when. And how. And if he spent more time thinking about you than you thought (an idea that filled you with an immense sense of hope) but all thought evaporated when his thumb brushed over your scent gland.

Fuck, you were needy for him.

“Is that okay?” he checked in, his voice rough. His helmet came down against your forehead and you could sense him looking at you so intensely you felt like you could never hide from him. “Wanted to surprise you.”

You nodded, pressing your thighs together when his fingers twitched on your throat. He was so in control of you, of the situation, it felt like you could flood your underwear just upon his command.

“You're not wearing gloves,” you whispered.

He hummed, his thumb scenting you again, “No, I wanted to feel you.”

“O-okay,” you gasped, writhing against him. His thick thigh slipped between your legs and your toes were barely touching the floor when he angled his leg just so. He made you dangle, the only things holding you being his hand on your throat and his thigh on your pussy.

And you did not want to have it any other way.

You did not have to see him to know he had a very amused grin on his face. “You like my armour,” he stated, his legs shifting and you squirmed, “Let’s see how much.”

“Wh-What?”

“Ride my thigh, omega,” he instructed, his fingers flexing around your throat, “When I step foot onto our home I want to have my armour marked by your come.”

“Don’t – don’t you want to fill me up again?” you asked, trying to tease him even though you felt like you were in no position to tease at all. More like begging. Was it too early to beg? “Or – or have me cockwarm you?” you added as an afterthought.

“Who says I cannot do all of these?” he chuckled, bumping you on his leg so high it put pressure on the part you needed most, “After all we still have at least a dozen hours before us.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders, wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you somewhat steady. Almost immediately, you slipped your fingers to his cowl almost immediately and Paz did not stop you when your fingertips managed to find his warm skin, brushing over it until you found his scent gland.

“I don’t see you grinding yet,” he said instead, angling his knee even higher and you squeaked, “Don’t you want to be a good girl for me?”

Of course, you did. And he knew it.

With your dress hiked up over his leg, you could feel the coldness of his beskar through your underwear. And what might have been a turn-off under normal circumstances, with Paz towering over you, shifting his leg again as a reminder of his presence, you found that it turned you beyond belief.

You started moving your hips slowly, though you felt like you were failing miserably at exuding any kind of sex appeal. With your feet having no real contact with the ground and Paz fixing your head so you would not lose his gaze, you felt anything but graceful. But he did not change his stance, nor his grip on your body. While he kept one large hand on your throat, his thumb consistently brushing over your scent gland, the other wandered to the cleavage of your dress.

As soon as he started pulling the delicate neckline down, baring you to his eyes so slowly, your breath got heavier until it just got stuck in your throat. You wanted to please him, stars, how you wanted to please him. And you knew that he liked you, knew that he found you beautiful and yet, at this moment, it was only his mumbles “Stars, you’re so beautiful” that had you release your breath.

And worry about other things.

“What if someone sees?”

“Then they’ll only see my back,” he replied, his fingers playing with your tits and tracing over your pebbled nipples, “And if they tried to see anymore, they will have to deal with the consequences.”

Something in his tone, the possessive undertone, paired with his scent, caused a fresh wave of arousal in you. You could feel your panties sticking to your folds, the wetness gathering on the delicate fabric. There was something slightly humiliating about your position like this, out in the open, and yet you could feel no shame.

Not when Paz made you feel like the most beautiful omega ever to exist.

Soon, you grew more confident in your movements, grinding properly against the hard beskar plate. It was so unforgiving and Paz just kept on playing with your tits, gently plucking at your nipples like it did not make you tremble in his arms. “Could play with these all night,” he murmured, “One day I am gonna have your cock warm me all naked so I get to take my time. Just going to play with these until you’re blind from pleasure.”

You wanted to remind him that the last time he took his time, you had ended up being unable to speak and move. (Though the sleep afterwards had been fantastic.) But the words got stuck in your throat when his hand left your throat (and, regrettably, your scent gland) and pulled your panties aside.

Already, you could feel how drenched you were but could not find it in you to be embarrassed. Instead of ceasing your grinding at the thought of someone accidentally passing by, all you could do was hope that his finger might catch on your clit. They did not. Though knowing that he stared at where your folds left races of wetness on his made you even hotter. Your breaths grew heavier, the knot in your core tighter, and as you thought about cockwarming him until he filled you up again and again, you lost all inhibition.

Tightening your arms around his neck, you hoisted yourself up and closer to his chest. The proximity allowed you to pulse your hips and stars, did it feel good, the way your folds and your clit bumped over the texture of his thigh plate. You wondered how the design came to be – and although you were very sure that this particular situation hadn’t been considered when forging it, you still sent a silent thank you to whoever had made this piece. A few thrusts later, the beskar had warmed with your touch and with your increasing arousal it also became a much easier glide.

“Look at you,” Paz rumbled, clearly pleased, “Marking me for everyone to see. Grinding yourself on my armour like it is my cock.”

His words sparked a sudden idea. The kind of idea that made your heart race and your brain fuzzy but something in your chest told you that Paz would love it just as much as you.

With surprising determination, you surged forward and attached your mouth to the sliver of skin you had freed. His skin was warm and salty under your tongue as you sucked on his scent gland. His taste exploded on your tongue and you moaned, feeling your pussy clench around nothing.

Paz grunted, his body slamming you into the wall, punching the air out of your lungs.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips and taking control of your movements. You could feel his bulge against your leg and knowing he was as affected by your pleasure made your heart flutter.

It did not take long for you to completely come apart in his arms. With his cock straining against his codpiece, your clit rubbing over his thigh plate your almost-but-not-quite exposure to anyone who might walk by, it had only been a matter of time.

You moaned against his neck, shaking in his arms as your walls clenched around nothing, wishing for his cock inside you.

“You're doing so good for me,” he growled, “Mark me, sweetheart. Do it.”

Your teeth just barely grazed his scent gland when you had the realization that, yes, this was what you wanted him to do. You wanted him to mark you, you wanted to mark him.

You wanted this man to be your alpha.

Another wave of pleasure rolled over you, making you whimper in the cold silence of the hallway. Your entire body just sagged into him, completely pliant for the man in front of you. And Paz was there to catch you, holding you up against him.

“Good omega,” he whispered, as he slowed your movements, gradually working you down from your high, “You are amazing.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed against his neck, brushing your nose over his scent gland, “You smell amazing.”

“Cause I smell like you,” he whispered, “C’mon, let’s get out of here before someone sees.”

“They won't though,” you slurred, your tongue still heavy in your mouth, “Cause you won't let them.”

He paused, his hands brushing from your shoulders to your hands. Slowly, his fingers intertwined with yours as if he were afraid you would run away if he were to touch you too soon. With him standing in front of you, his leg no longer between yours, gravity did its thing as your dress fell over your legs, hiding the sticky mess between your legs. Though your expression and scent probably gave it away to anyone who looked at you for more than a fleeting moment.

“Yes,” he said warmly, “I won't.”

Smiling through the haze, you rested your head against his chest and he let you. Being hugged by Paz made you feel secure in a way you had never experienced before. His arms tightened around you and he started to slowly sway from side to side, humming a melody you did not recognize.

“How are you so comfortable?” you asked in a mumble, trying to smooth your cheek against him through the cold beskar was nothing like the warmth of his skin.

He did not answer directly but you did notice a change in his scent, something that you hadn’t noticed before. You breathed in deeply, trying to decipher where this scent of woods and sweetness had come from but Paz interrupted your thoughts, “Will you let me accompany you to your bunk?”

“Will I?” you scoffed, your voice still sounding weak to your ears, “You have to, alpha, you’ve got a tendency to make my legs tremble.”

“Say stuff like this and I will make them tremble again.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?”

“A promise, love,” he chuckled, “It’s a promise.”

*

You were not sure what you had expected when the entire Mandalorian population got cramped onto one ship, but it certainly had not been a board game championship.

“Hm, I could get used to that,” Paz murmured in your ear, his hand on your back, “Getting Ragnar to bed, having a nice drink to finish off the evening, sitting you on my cock and beating that annoying alpha in every single game this ship has to offer.”

You smiled against his neck, not opening your eyes. You had spent the last few hours just ... dozing. It was kind of scary to think about how quickly you had gotten used to this strange man but when you had settled for the evening, it was not even a question where you would spend the last few hours of the day.

As soon as the large alpha had sat down at one of the little play tables, so had you, straddling him with your chest against his and he had gotten an extra blanket from somewhere, muttering under his breath how he knew you got cold easily.

It made your cheeks heat up in a different way.

But now here you were, his cock nestled deep inside you and your face in the crook of his neck. Getting to touch even the tiniest sliver of skin felt like a privilege and the fact that he allowed you to do so in front of many of the other warriors made it feel even more intimate. Paz did not mind you scenting him. Quite the opposite, actually, he seemed to relish in it.

The previous night he had spent the time just like this, sitting you on his cock with a rumble in his chest. Only that time he had been able to reciprocate the scenting in kind. Whenever you had drifted awake (multiple times since some couples just could not keep quiet), his mouth had been on your neck, raining lavish kisses upon the sensitive skin until you squirmed in his lap. He had been awake every time you had drifted off and every time your eyes fluttered open beneath the blindfold. He had been still yes, quiet too, and smelled incredibly comfortable but his hands, his hips slowly working you open until you had muffled your gasps into his chest and come on his cock. And then he had traced his fingertips over your scent gland until you had fallen back asleep.

You wondered if he had not slept because he was nervous or perhaps because he just did not need to. You knew of a few warriors in your tribe who had made it a tradition not to sleep the night before a big battle or a trial, instead mulling over strategies and meditating until the time had come.

Briggs called them idiots.

But Paz was not an idiot.

Not with the way he carried himself so securely through the ship, how he participated in the training session, giving pointers to the younger warriors. And certainly not with the way he argued in the cockpit, discussing the best route to go to Mandalore and the strategy for how to reclaim it.

And definitely not with the way his hand was gently stroking your back, how his chest rumbled whenever you pressed a lazy kiss to his scent gland and how he made sure you were comfortable, checking in with you every time he shifted.

“You comfortable too, sweetheart?” he asked you, inclining his head so the side of his helmet was resting against your temple. The proximity allowed you not only to bury your face in his neck but also to hear his real voice – a fact that made your heart skip a beat, “Getting some rest?”

You hummed, too lazy to speak but chose to kiss his neck instead. The stretch made him shift inside you and you whimpered. He had come inside you once already and refused to knot you. (“The first time I knot you won't be in a room where everyone can see just how pretty you come for me,” had been his exact words and you had been too excited by the prospect of him knotting you to understand the implications of the rest of the words.) Which meant that there was a growing mess between your thighs, a mix of your juices and his seed and where other alphas might have found it uncomfortable, the reminder that he had filled you seemed to make Paz even harder than before.

“I’d be concerned if I had to ask my calmer if they are comfortable,” Axe Wove’s voice grated on your nerves and you wondered not for the first time if it was really necessary to be nice to him or if it would suffice to just keep Bo-Katan happy, “You wanna switch, sweetheart?”

You had not even registered that he was speaking to you until you felt Paz tense underneath you, his scent getting an acid note that made your nose twitch, “Say that again.”

“You heard me,” Axe Woves hissed, “Perhaps your omega would actually be satisfied if she were with me.”

You squeaked when you were simply lifted off Paz’s cock, his hands gripping your waist just a little bit too tight for comfort. He was angry, you could gather as much. But was that truly reason enough to kick you out of your favourite spot when you had just started to doze off again?

With trembling hands, you fought to close your robe as fast as possible. But when you finally looked up from fiddling with the belt, it was already too late.

The tell-tale buzzing of the vibro blade cut through the tense silence in the room and you knew shit was about to go down.

“Alpha,” you started to rush to his side but were kept on your spot by a pair of arms that were not your alpha’s.

You turned around angrily, ready to chide anyone who dared to keep you from trying to calm your alpha. Because that’s what he was. Your alpha.

“You know you cannot intervene.”

“Chants –“

“Everyone is watching,” your friend reminded you urgently. You knew he was right. That did not mean you had to like it though. Anyone going to stop a fight between two Mandalorian warriors had to be ready to fight themselves. And apart from your lack of clothing or your body still being disoriented from sitting on Paz’s cock not even five minutes ago, your lack of training did not lend itself to try and stop whatever was going on.

A roar was going through the crowd as they gathered to see what was going on. You caught glimpses of Sluice and the Armourer watching the fight unfold – Sluice looking just as displeased as Briggs, wherever he was, you were sure – and you grew restless. Paz making you fight made you nervous, the thought that there was even the slimmest chance that he could get hurt made you sick to your stomach.

However, after a few minutes of watching Paz fight, you found you did not mind seeing him throw and avoid punches. There was something very attractive about the way he strong-armed his way through the fight. Both men were capable warriors, that much was obvious, but his display of pure strength reminded you of your moment in the hallway and your raging heartbeat calmed down.

Paz could take care of this. He could take care of himself.

It was only when the silver-armoured man – Djarin, you thought – stomped into the circle, gripping Paz by the back of his neck and pulling him away the same way that Bo-Katan Kryze pulled away Axe Woves, finally putting distance between the two alphas.

You took that as your chance to intervene. Chants had no chance to stop you as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried towards Paz. His chest was heaving and his hands kept clenching by his side and you could smell his anger even from several steps away.

But it did not scare you. Because deep down you knew that no matter how big he was, no matter how angry, Paz Vizsla would never even think of hurting you.

“Alpha,” you whispered and the crowd went quiet, “I mean, uh, Paz.”

Taking a stand in front of him you hoped that he was focussing on you instead of a raging Axe Woves behind you. And your heart skipped a beat when his hands gently pulled you against him. He was aware of you, he noticed you, he did not care more about the fight than you.

“He said that I could not pleasure you,” he grunted and you moved to his side.

“I heard what he said,” you smiled, your hand gripping his while you rested your chin against his upper arm, “And it is obvious to me that he does not know what he is talking about.”

That seemed to relax him a little because you could see his shoulders drop and his fingers intertwined with yours. “No?” he asked, tugging you closer, “Are you sure, omega?”

“I am very sure,” you replied, feeling a little breathless, “No one ever made me feel like you do, alpha. Cherished and safe and wanted and … and –“ loved “– appreciated the way you do.”

“Can I let you go, Vizsla?” his friend asked, his tone neutral though you could swear you detected a hint of exasperation in it, “Or will you try to start another clan war?”

“Fuck off, Djarin,” Paz said, clearly not offended at the other man’s accusation, and shook his friend off but keeping his hold on your hand, “’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” the other man scoffed but left anyway, disappearing into the crowd that kept dwindling away now that nothing of interest was going on. But a few eyes remained on you and you suddenly became aware of how little you were wearing and how much you were being watched.

“Can we leave, alpha?” you asked, thumb brushing over his wrist and you loved how his head tilted to look at you. How he seemed to be so focused on you, you never need to worry he was in danger of ignoring you. “To … I don’t know to where, just … somewhere we’re alone.”

“I can take you to bed, omega,” he suggested, his hands falling to your hips, “I can … I could hold you close and scent you again. We got the curtain and the blindfold and our own little space. How does that sound?”

“That sounds like a dream,” you smiled in relief, already dragging him in the direction of the bunkroom, “Please take me to bed, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #smut

[aleprouswitch]

I've debated whether I should make this post, but here it goes:

A few weeks back, I reported several openly f4scist and neo-n4zi blogs and to my surprise, some of them actually got nuked by Tumblr. Unfortunately, a few are still up and running. I don't want anyone following this blog to interact with these losers, so I'll just discuss the kind of content I saw being posted:

Incredibly disgusting racist and antisemitic cartoon illustrations,

Lots of pictures of their favorite führer smiling, hugging kids, etc.,

Greco-Roman statues. So. Many. Greco. Roman. Statues,

Pictures of Swiss milk maid looking girls with text on top that said things like "I only want to live around white people!" and "Make beautiful white babies",

Pictures of physically attractive white women wearing or standing next to f4scist symbols,

The most batshit insane conspiracy theories, including one guy who sincerely thought the earth was flat,

All these posts about European identity and unity, which is so beyond fucking stupid because it actually erases cultural individualism more than immigrants and refugees ever could (and they actually don't want to!),

Christian Identity hogwash, ie f4scists who think white Europeans are the "real" Israelites, which once again is so fucking stupid because the historical Jesus of Nazareth was a brown-skinned Palestinian Jew,

An extreme dislike of Ben Shapiro - not because of his right-wing propaganda, mind you - but solely because he's Jewish,

Rock Against C0mmunism sk1nh3ads who've been listening to the same shitty bands for 30 years,

NSBM musicians posting their asinine Third R31ch worship jams ("Empire of a Thousand Years" and yet your shit got wrecked in less than twelve years 🤡),

Some sad female f4scists who seriously try to argue that women were treated better under f4scistic regimes, and

Fundamentally unfunny "humor" via stale Pepe memes .

Overall, it's a bunch of sad, pitiful goobers who probably want to blame their shortcomings in life on anybody but themselves.

Many years ago, there was a popular "aesthetic" blogger here who was an open neo-n4zi, and when I made a post about the kind of horrible shit he was posting (with screenshots ), I got anon messages from his pathetic fangirls saying "I hope you get r4ped by N-words". I traced their IP addresses and one of them lived in the Nashville area. All I could do was tell them to go fuck themselves and block them.

Now we have so-called Leftists on Tumblr trying to claim certain noise/industrial bloggers here are "crypto-f4sh" just to ruin reputations while ACTUAL f4scist pieces of shit on this site get ignored. Fuck those kinds of virtue signalers, too. Get your hands dirty and look for the actual n4zi scum on this website and report them instead of harassing people who aren't awful.

#psa #ugh #anons are off because I don't want to read drivel defending these blogs

[umbrellacam]

*steeples fingers and stares at my tablet with gimlet eyes*

so. Road to NML. You mean to tell me that the reason the rest of the country, Congress, and the President himself decided to write Gotham off, blow the bridges, and isolate everyone left - all criminals and asylum lunatics and 'undesirables', of course - was in large part due to *checks notes* a satanic rock star's unnatural, irresistible charisma and cult-like media manipulations aimed at dooming the city for his own benefit?

and that in order to find out what actually happens to this villain, who disappears from the Batman and 'Tec storylines...I'd have to *checks notes* read Azrael's event issues?

....yeah, PASS. I only included JPV's book on my reading list when I absolutely had to (*cough* whenever Cass pops up *cough*), so it's off to the wiki summaries for me!

...but okay, on the one hand I find it very funny how thoroughly fandom has excised this demonic media influencer aspect from the collective consciousness of NML - or at least it had never made its way to me via either fic or fandom posts. I know how few people read comics in general in this fandom, and even for those who do, NML is a Beast that only a percentage have tackled (see: me just starting to pick away at it!), so honestly it's not that surprising.

and like it can easily be left out of the story and still leave it coherent lmao!! One can certainly argue things are in fact neater that way; certainly it's not something that would ever be kept (or at least not in the same form) if NML were adapted to another medium, except as perhaps a normal media demagogue (or a montage of them).

but on the other hand...hmm. Thinking about Hurricane Katrina hitting all of six years after the NML storyline played out. And the debate over whether funds should be used for reconstructing New Orleans and other massively damaged areas. And people around the country wondering if New Orleans would or should be rebuilt at all. Or if a vibrant, historic city would just be basically wiped off the map.

I know this is a conversation that happens everywhere and every time a major disaster wrecks a city. There are always huge fights over disaster aid and funding allocations of any kind.

but man. It's something to see this fictionalized depiction in such close proximity to a real life disaster that paralleled it so strongly, and to know that - yes, there are always people who Do Not Abandon Their Homes and work to reclaim them. Yes, massive amounts of aid (federal and otherwise) and federal reconstruction funding did get dispensed. Yes, people cared, and yes, we rebuilt.

so...maybe we do actually need the demonic social media influencer's evil powers in order to comic book logic explain how everyone in the country turned their backs on Gotham and created No Man's Land.

like - no, it's not necessary. the narrative would work without it. and yet...

the premise imagines - requires? - a significantly more callous, selfish populace. Still plausible and compelling! Possibly even stronger as a story since the turnaround for No Man's Land still hinges on winning the country over to open Gotham back up, let aid in, and rebuild. But. You do have to start from - kind of a bleaker take on humanity?

it also kind of reminds me of what scintillyyy pointed out a few weeks ago about Dick killing the Joker, and how actually there's an important comic book superpower interaction going on there, too, with Rancor present massively amplifying Dick's hate and anger to push him over the edge.

but so few people ever notice or remember that and it certainly isn't one of those things that gets transmitted via fandom osmosis. (It was news to me!!) People focus on Dick breaking down and letting loose solely due to being pushed too far.

and that's extremely compelling on its own! It is! Just like the no-satanic-Nick-Scratch NML.

just thinking about fandom's tendency to ellide the supernatural or powered influences that are canonically affecting a situation, in order to explore/focus on more purely humanistic explanations or motivations...that actually end up being darker than what we might reasonably expect from real life, or from a character's typical values.

like it's part wanting to brush off comic book nonsense, part wanting to dive into gritty realism (that's not always realistic), part not having all the information because of learning things secondhand so you construct the most reasonable explanation...idk it's just interesting.

anyway.

more importantly: Dick and Tim are adorable in 'Tec 727-729!! Especially love them trading off yelling each other's names in fear/alarm, and also trading off protecting each other - Dick's "You hurt that kid and you're gonna be eating through a tube!" and Tim's clever solo rescue of a thoroughly captive Dick via clever use of a voice modulator and a two-way radio. The Boys 😊

#Cam reads comics #hopscotching around between different time periods because violent FOMO yearning for different eras and interactions always strikes #Cam posts