#i'd clear out a space just for them.. if i could..

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

14 with lando pleeeeaaase

map of you ༊*·˚

prompt 14: colouring tattoos

☁︎ ln x reader ♡︎

☁︎ fluff ♡︎

masterlist ☾☼

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

the sunbeam-flooded afternoon streamed in through the window of your apartment, casting long shadows on the floor. lando, reclined on the couch, was completely engrossed in his task. he held a set of colored pencils in his hand, his forehead furrowed with concentration, his tongue protruding from the edge of his mouth.

you, on the other hand, were lying on the floor, your back a canvas for his artistic skills. you had a series of detailed tattoos, a large tapestry of ink that was a chronicle of your life, your travels, your interests. and lando, since he'd found his passion for coloring, had been fascinated with coloring in the details. "almost finished," he breathed, his voice low and intense. he was carefully coloring in a mandala on your shoulder, the bright colors of the pencils bringing the intricate pattern to life. you laughed, feeling the soft pressure of the pencil on your skin. "you're really serious about this," you said. "it's a big deal," he said, not looking up. "it's art." "it's also my skin," you reminded him, but you were grinning. "just that way," he said, at last lifting his head. "and it's a work of art." he held the colored pencils up, admiring what he had created. the mandala, at first just a rough outline, was now a kaleidoscope of color, a rich explosion of blues, greens, and purples. "wow," you said, turning to view your shoulder. "that actually isn't half bad." "i told you," he said, smug. he took up another pencil, a vivid orange color. "now, where were we?" he questioned, his eyes scanning your back. you had a variety of tattoos: a delicate floral design winding down your spine, a geometric pattern on your ribs, a whimsical scene of constellations on your calf.

each of them had a special significance, a tale written in ink. and lando, with his boyish passion, enjoyed bringing them to life with his hues.

he'd started with simple shading, adding depth and dimension to the designs. then he'd moved on to more complex coloring, coloring entire scenes in with vivid colors. he'd even begun experimenting with color blending, producing subtle gradients and textures. "how about the constellations?" he said, indicating your calf. "i haven't colored those in a while." "sounds good," you replied, adjusting your position. lando settled in, his attention back to his work. he colored in the stars carefully, employing a variety of blues and purples to give them a sense of depth and dimension. He sprinkled a little silver glitter on the bigger stars, so they sparkled in the light. he was really good at it, you had to admit. he possessed a natural color sense, an ability to mix colors and produce subtle effects. He was also very patient, spending hours painstakingly coloring in the elaborate patterns. while he worked, you could feel yourself spacing out, the soft pressure of the pencil and the soft rumble of the air conditioner humming you into drowsiness. you were shaken awake by lando shaking your shoulder softly. "all done," he declared, grinning. you stood up, uncurling your limbs. "let's see," you said, turning to inspect your calf. the constellations were stunning. the stars glimmered and twinkled, colors blending perfectly. it was as if a small galaxy had been traced upon your skin. "lando," you murmured, your voice full of wonder, "this is incredible." "i know," he said with a grin. "i told you i was a natural." he leaned in and kissed your shoulder. "i love your tattoos," he said. "they're like… a map of you." "and you're the cartographer," you said, smiling. he smiled, pulling you into an embrace. "exactly." and so, you and lando sank back onto the sofa, the afternoon sun warming your skin, the bright tattoos a reminder of your mutual creativity and love.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

i'm just clearing out my drafts/inbox! i can't write x reader anymore, i'm more interested in being gay! (this is a joke, but fr, i can only do rpf now)

taglist: @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @anamiad00msday ; @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @peterholland04 ; @justaf1girl ; @greantii ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @phobiccneel ; @winkev1 ; @alexxavicry ; @hiireadstuff ; @midnight-and-books ; @landoscarino ; @stylesmoonlight12 ;

[serpulalacrymans]

Do you like the idea of someone relying on you to stay alive, Lawrence?

I.. Do. I do.

Not just to survive, but to live. To have someone to come home to.. Someone who not just needs only me but wants only me.. A mutual relationship of reliance.. Someone who has nowhere to be, nothing to do, no one to meet. Someone who doesn't want any of those things..

Mmmm~...

[skrunksthatwunk]

everybody stop what you're doing and bow before my very epic doll collection that i finally have 'w'

[ourceliumnetwork]

the list of traumas i need to unpack still and my coping mechanisms (or, more frequently, lack-thereof) keeps getting longer and i'm not sure i like that. I think i like less how much i already know they're hangups before they become a problem i have to actively work on, too.

[werewolfbneimitzvah]

vent post. There are two stories i was told in my teenage years that even before i had a real concept of trans issues made me uninterested in discussing the supposed sacredness and safety of separated sex-based spaces.

First, when i was like 13 or 14 my PE teacher told us about a time she went to a women's public restroom, some guy was hanging out outside the bathrooms, she didn't think anything of it, went to the bathroom, and he walked in after her and like, creeped on her over the top of the stall. She was ok, she wasn't telling us this to scare us, just telling us what to do in situations like that (and iirc she was telling the whole co-ed class this, not just girls, bc it's useful for everyone), but this taught me immediately and forever that there's nothing actually keeping these spaces separate really, that anyone can be a creep in any space, and that establishing a space like that as for women only isn't actually particularly useful for safety.

Second, when i was 16 i was at an anime convention, a friendly acquaintance of mine and i ended up in conversation outside, and he showed me his bare wrist and told me he'd been kicked out. A female friend of his had stepped in dog poop outside, and between that and the stress of the convention she'd had a bit of an emotional breakdown, so being her friend, he started comforting her and ushered her into the women's restroom so they could wash the poop off her shoe together. And because he was a man who went into the women's bathroom, he got kicked out, no matter that he was doing something that was actually beneficial to a woman. Punishing a woman's friend for supporting her was supposed to... protect her somehow? This made it clear to me that a no-exceptions rule separating the sexes like that wasn't actually inherently good for everyone.

And this isn't even getting into me as a child needing to accompany my younger sister to the restroom when we were out with just my dad because she had certain support needs past the age he felt comfortable bringing her into the men's room with him. And what if I'd been born a boy, or she'd been the first born? Who's helping her then?

And of course even putting all this aside, we should always prioritize compassion and support anyway. But i never even needed to meet a trans person to know that "keeping men out of women's bathrooms" is silly nonsense. But trans people also need to pee anyway and as humans they have that right, so leave them the fuck alone. your precious women's restroom is just a fucking room with a door, holy shit give it a fucking rest, if someone is attacking you in the bathroom that's bad and if someone is in there to pee that's good and it doesn't fucking matter what their junk is or was when they were born.

a woman could have done the exact same thing to my PE teacher and it would have also been bad no matter how "supposed" to be in the restroom she was, and no one should ever be punished for helping a crying friend wash their shoe.

Anyway i know I'm speaking to like-minded folks here, i just think about those two stories literally every time bathroom gender shit comes up and it pisses me off.

[misskamelie]

Wrt the situation(tm), I managed to resolve the communication issue between us and it's been pretty chill since then. I care about them a whole lot, but there's still something I cannot quite grasp about what I feel towards them

[spearofheaven]

⋆˚࿔ BEHIND CLOSED DOORS — office worker! nanami kento

SUM. when your husband’s secretary acts just a little too friendly around him

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. 1.1k+ words. x fem reader. semi-public sex. exhibitionism. cunnilingus. fingering. use of pet names.

"you need an appointment to see mr. nanami."

the receptionist spoke in a bored tone, barely looking up from her computer to give you a once-over. all the while she rolled her eyes and obnoxiously smacked her gum, like you were the one wasting her time.

but before you even had the chance to answer, the office door creaked open. "and i thought i mentioned that she could come in without needing one," nanami spoke up, appearing beside her desk.

the receptionist straightened up and busied herself with 'stacking' a couple papers on her desk. fluttering her lashes when she did look up at him, leaning forward just the slightest bit. "sorry, sir. you've just been soo busy and you did mention you didn't want anyone to bother you."

you honestly couldn't blame her, though. not when your husband had walked out of his office without his suit jacket on—the sleeves of his blue button down pushed up and showing off his watch. and well, the most important thing, his wedding ring. which she was blatantly trying to disregard.

"i'm aware. but you should know that doesn't apply to my wife, she's welcome to enter whenever she pleases," you could practically see her jaw clench as soon as he called you his wife, "please don't have me repeat myself. again."

"yes, sir. it won't happen again."

what she'd promised last time.

you stepped foot into the office, ceiling to floor windows decorating the space behind his desk. your heels clacked against the pristine floors, walking over to one of the wooden chairs.

"i brought you some lunch. saw that you forgot your bento at home and i wasn't sure if you brought any money to buy lunch," you spoke up, giving him a soft smile as you offered him the bento.

"thank you," he took the bento from you, setting aside, "but i think i'd like to have something different for lunch," kento cleared the space in front of him, patting on the wooden desk. a silent invitation. the skirt you had on rose up when you took a seat. the perfect offering if you'd ask nanami.

calloused hands ran down your legs, gently spreading them open. taking his time despite the thirty minute time constraint. "i'm sorry about her, by the way," nanami spoke up in a whisper, his lips pressing against your calf. "i don't know how much more obvious i need to be about being happily married."

his lips were reverent as he kissed up your leg, one of his hands holding the other in place. "like i'd ever want anyone but you, my love," he murmured, more so to himself, gently nibbling on your inner thigh. where only he'd be able to see them after. your legs spread apart almost instinctively, giving nanami the perfect view of the lace panties he adored so much.

and as much as he loved seeing you in them, the sight of you without them was much better. kento hooked one finger around the waistband, slowly removing them. sliding them inch by inch down your legs. "you didn't think we should hurry up, mr. nanami?" you questioned teasingly, pushing his hair back to take a look at his face.

"and why would we do that, mrs. nanami? i want to enjoy our time here," he pulled the underwear off, letting it fall to the floor. "well, you know you're sooo busy," you drawled, twirling a hair strand in between your fingers. he let out a small scoff, gently nipping at your leg in retaliation.

"never busy enough for you, you know that," kento’s voice came out muffled, licking a stripe up your cunt. he swirled his tongue around your clit before moving down, running the tip of his tongue down your folds. "never?" you mused, looking down at nanami. he wasn't paying that much attention to you anymore—rather, just your pussy.

"never," he muttered offhandedly, pushing a finger inside of you. your heels dug into his shoulder blades, your back arched when kento curled his fingers to hit your g-spot. and while it'd hurt at first—it was a pain that nanami was more than welcome to receive if it meant getting to lose himself in you.

your nails—paid for by yours truly—tugged on his hair, pulling him closer to your dripping cunt. kento clicked his tongue, looking up at you, "come on, use your words. tell me what you want and i'll give it to you."

"more, please," you responded almost immediately, your grip on his hair loosening up. just a bit. he replaced his tongue with two fingers, slowly getting past that initial resistance before pushing them in and out of you.

even with his glasses fogging up with every heavy breath that he took and your slick covering his mouth and chin, nanami continued to push his fingers inside of you. coaxing out all the pretty little noises you were making. "you can be a little louder, no? just a little bit, sweetheart," nanami curled his fingers, drawing out a whine from your lips.

you dripped onto his digits with each thrust, the golden wedding band on his finger glistening against the office lights. "k-ken, don't stop," your nails dug deeper into his hair, messing up the time he took fixing it this morning. you weren't even sure what was louder anymore—the squelching in between your legs or your moans.

your thighs clamped tightly around his head, holding him in place. "open them, darling. you can take it, you even asked me for more," kento felt the way your legs trembled—the way you were almost hesitant to open your legs again. you were close. "too much, too much," your moan had come out louder this time—loud enough to bleed through the walls.

not that it mattered.

you felt that familiar pressure build up in your lower tummy, your legs threatening to close again all the while your toes curled against the leather heels. too much, you'd said, and you still found yourself needing even more. "cum for me sweetheart, you can take it. take what's yours," his words served as a final push, your orgasm washing over you like a wave.

nanami pulled his dripping fingers out from your cunt and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, wiping them off. effortlessly, he wiped away the spit and slick dribbling down his chin before carelessly tossing the handkerchief to the side. like it was nothing more than just a bother.

your chest heaved as you leaned back against the desk, watching your husband stand up from his spot. a wet patch adorned the front of his khaki pants, his cock practically twitching against the confines of his boxers. "i think i'll just skip ahead to the main course."

needless to say, you didn't have any more trouble coming into nanami's office after that <3

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Bob Floyd X Reader: Pretty boy

a/n: another Bob played by Lewis that i absolutely love and never got to writing for.

Warnings: readers call sign is Echo, fluff, Bob being a nervous cutie, kissing, mutual pinning, cheesy lines (its fluff guys let me have this one), no use of y/n.

Word count: 2.2K

“Hey there, pretty boy.”

Bob didn’t need to raise his eyes to know you were the one talking to him. You’d given him the nickname and made it extremely clear only you were allowed to use it. He lifted his eyes from the pool table, gaze finding your frame. You were wearing civilian clothes like the rest of the crew, but somehow, seeing you out of uniform affected Bob more than seeing the others. Maybe it wasn’t the clothes. Maybe it was just who was wearing them.

“Can I have some?”

Bob understood you were talking about the chips in his hands—his go-to snack at The Hard Deck. He lifted the container from the table beside him, offering it to you. You gave him a small smile of gratitude, grabbing a handful and stuffing it into your mouth. Bob continued to look at you as you chewed, but you were focused on the pool game before you. Phoenix scored a shot, causing you to yell out in victory. The rest of the crew raised their heads to look in your direction, realizing for the first time that you had arrived.

“Didn’t think you were coming, Echo.”

“Oh yeah? Why, scared I'd beat you again, Hangman?”

Phoenix grinned at your words. You two always had a knack for getting on the boys' nerves. Hangman was an easy target thanks to his inflated ego, so you took whatever shot you could when it came to him.

“Better put your money where your mouth is.”

Hangman moved over to you, lifting the pool stick in invitation. You raised your eyebrows at him—you knew better than to take the bait.

“Nah, I’m good. Don’t need to prove myself to you.”

The others let out small noises like “uff” and “oh, burn” at your words, causing your smirk to widen.

“Plus, I think I'd rather spend time with Bob anyway.”

Hangman's eyes shifted to the man beside you, lips curling into a teasing smile before turning back to you.

“I’m sure you would.”

There was something cruel hidden beneath the phrase. You chose to ignore it. Like you often did. Realizing he wouldn’t get a rise out of you, Hangman turned on his heels, moving back to where Phoenix was still waiting for him to take his shot.

You turned your attention back to Bob, moving to sit next to him. The stools were small and close together—an attempt to use up as much of the limited space as possible—which caused your body to be flush against Bob’s. You felt him shift a bit, body slightly tense.

“This okay? I can sit somewhere else.”

You moved to get up, but Bob placed a hand on your thigh in desperation.

“No, it’s okay.”

He paused, realizing where his hand rested on your body, then moved it as quick as lightning. You laughed at the action.

“Sorry. I was just trying to be a—”

“Gentleman?”

“Yeah.”

You smiled at him, patting his thigh with your hand.

“You’re all good, Bob. Don’t worry about it.”

With that, you removed your hand from his thigh, resting it in your own lap. Bob's eyes remained glued to where you had touched him. His skin felt warm. You always seemed to have that effect on him. Whenever you were close, Bob would find himself getting flushed. He forced himself to drag his eyes back to the pool table, even though he’d much rather continue looking at you.

Upon remembering your request for his chips, Bob reached for his beer, touching your shoulder gently with his to get your attention. You looked over at him, glancing at the cup in his hand before giving him a questioning gaze.

“You want some?”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, thanks.”

Bob merely shrugged, handing you his cup. You took a sip before passing it back. You continued to do that until the cup was empty.

“Oh shoot. I finished it. Sorry, Bob—I’ll go get another one.”

“Oh, it’s okay, I don’t need—”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll get it.”

You turned to the others.

“Anyone else want a top-up?”

After getting everyone's cups, you began moving toward the bar. Bob grabbed your arm as you passed, causing you to pause.

“I’ll go with you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to. Really, it’s—”

“I want to.”

You were slightly taken aback by the words, but you welcomed the company.

“If you’re sure.”

You and Bob made your way through the crowd toward the bar, weaving between bodies and half-full tables. The Hard Deck was packed tonight—sailors, aviators, and locals all jostling for elbow room. The air smelled like beer and salt, and the music thumped loud enough to feel in your ribs.

Bob stayed close, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes scanning the room like he always did—quiet, alert, steady. You liked that about him. No pretense. No bluster. Just Bob.

You’d only just placed the drink order when the song changed—one of those upbeat, slightly retro tracks with a funky bass line and smooth vocals, the kind that immediately lit a spark in your chest. Your head snapped toward the jukebox like it had called your name. A wide grin spread across your face.

“Oh my god, I love this song.”

Bob turned to look at you, eyebrows lifting behind his glasses. “

Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

You bobbed your head to the beat, already feeling the rhythm in your limbs. 

“Come on, Bob. Dance with me.”

His eyes widened slightly. “Dance?”

You didn’t wait for a full yes. You grabbed his hand, tugging him gently but insistently away from the bar. 

“You can’t say no, Bob. It's the rules.”

“What rules?” 

He asked, but you were already halfway to the open space between the dartboard and the old jukebox, a makeshift dance floor when the vibe was right.

“The ones I just made up.”

Bob stumbled after you, half-laughing, half-dreading, though his fingers stayed laced in yours. You stopped in the center of the room, turning to face him, still swaying to the music.

“Just follow my lead, pretty boy.”

“I don’t really dance,” he admitted quietly, looking everywhere but at you.

“Doesn’t matter. Just move. It’s not about looking good, it’s about having fun.”

You placed his hands on your waist and gave him an encouraging smile. Bob hesitated a second longer, then slowly let the music guide him, shifting his weight side to side. He was awkward at first, uncertain, but you were patient—moving in closer, syncing your steps with his, laughing when he accidentally bumped your knee with his.

“You’re doing fine,” you said, leaning in like you were telling a secret.

He gave you a small, sheepish smile—the kind that made your chest flutter a little.

“I think you’re just saying that.”

“Maybe,” you said, teasing. “But I’m still glad you’re out here.”

And then, like some switch flipped inside him, Bob started to relax. His shoulders dropped. His grip on your waist grew surer. The next spin you pulled him into wasn’t met with hesitation—it was met with a chuckle.

Maybe he wasn’t a dancer. But dancing with you? That, he could do.

And then the song changed into a slower one, causing your body to move closer. Bob’s breath hitched as he felt the shift—the proximity of your bodies finally settling in his mind. His throat felt dry. His gaze moved around the room, searching to see if anyone was watching. No one was, each person glued to their own conversation to notice a couple of people dancing near the bar.

You felt the tension in Bob’s body, causing you to call out his name. He forced his eyes to meet yours. “You okay?”

Bob didn’t answer at first, trying to figure out what he should do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to kiss you. But that wouldn’t be appropriate. Not in front of all these people. Not without making sure you’d be okay with him doing it.

The lack of response made you pull away slightly, becoming a bit self-conscious yourself. Had you gone too far? Had your desire to be near him made him feel uncomfortable?

“We can stop if you want. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Bob began to feel you pull away. The feeling caused him to act, his hands tightening around your waist. Not forceful—just reassuring. “No, I…” he paused for a moment, uncertain. “I want to keep dancing with you. If you want to, that is.”

You smiled at him, shoulders relaxing. You hadn’t scared him. Not yet.

 “I’d like that.”

You moved together in an easy rhythm, your bodies swaying gently, comfortably. Bob’s hands rested on your waist like he was afraid to hold you too tightly, but they stayed. Steady. Sure. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers brushing the back of his neck, and for a moment, the world felt small in the best way—just the two of you in a noisy bar, dancing like no one was watching.

You leaned your cheek against his, lips close to his ear.

“You’re a fast learner,” you murmured, your breath making him shiver.

Bob gave a quiet laugh, the sound low and close. 

“I have a good teacher.”

Another minute passed like that—close and quiet—until Bob pulled back slightly, eyes searching yours.

“Would it be okay if we stepped outside for a bit?” 

His voice was soft, almost uncertain. 

“It’s a little loud in here.”

You nodded immediately. 

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Bob gently took your hand again, weaving you both through the crowd. The door creaked open and spilled warm air into the cooler night, the ocean breeze brushing against your skin. You both stepped out into the open air, away from the music, away from the bodies and lights and laughter.

Once you’d stepped out, Bob let go of your hand. You longed for the feeling again, but you understood that he’d probably let go because he wasn’t sure if you'd be okay with him holding you like that. You opted to stay quiet, tailing beside him as you two walked. You didn’t know where he wanted to go exactly, but you continued to follow him. You looked up at the sky, a soft “wow” escaping your lips as you caught sight of the moon. Bob heard the sound, gaze shifting to see what you were staring at. A soft smile made its way onto his face as he looked at you taking in the moon.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

He lifted his hand to you. You took it, glad to have his palm back in yours. He began running—not fast, but enough to make you have to race a bit to keep up with him. Once you made it to the spot, he let go of your hand, moving to lean over the railing. You copied his movements. And then you saw it: the way the moon reflected against the ocean. You let out a soft gasp.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It really is.”

You turned to face Bob, finding his eyes on you instead of the sight before you. You flushed a bit, realizing he’d been talking about you and not the moon. Bob inched closer to you, pulling off the railing so he could face you directly. You allowed him to go at his own pace, making his way to you slowly.

Bob stopped a breath away from you, his eyes flickering down to your lips before darting quickly back up to your gaze. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You waited, giving him time. He always seemed to need a second longer to speak his mind.

“I’ve been wanting to do something,” he finally said, voice low, as if afraid the wind might carry it away.

You tilted your head slightly. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “But I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to... assume anything.”

Your chest tightened at the sincerity in his tone. You stepped in a little closer, closing the last of the distance between you. Close enough to feel his warmth.

“You won’t.”

Bob leaned in, slow and deliberate. Giving you every chance to pull away. When you didn’t—when you leaned into him too—his hand found your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. His lips met yours in a kiss that was every bit as sweet and careful as you’d expected from him. No rush. No push. Just Bob. Steady. Honest.

The kiss was soft at first—testing the waters. But when you kissed him back, really kissed him, he melted into it, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, like he’d finally stopped holding himself back.

When you pulled apart, your forehead rested against his.

You stood there in silence for a moment, just breathing each other in, the ocean crashing softly below, the moonlight catching in his glasses.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he admitted, not quite looking at you.

“I was hoping you would.”

You both smiled. Then Bob reached for your hand again, interlacing your fingers.

“Wanna stay out here a little longer?” 

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. 

“Yeah. I think I could stay right here all night.”

Bob gave you a full, toothy smile.

 “Not a problem with me.”

You settled back into his arms, breathing in the scent of his cologne and the warmth radiating from his body. He was your pretty boy—yours, and no one else’s.

It had taken him a while to realize it, but he’d managed to get there eventually. And you couldn’t have been happier.

[syrecjh]

── .✦Matching Pajamas (That He Secretly Bought)

˚🎀༘⋆ || katsuki bakugo x reader, pure fluff

It’s Christmas Eve, and you’ve just finished wrapping the last of the presents, a satisfied grin on your face as you admire the cozy scene in your living room. The tree twinkles softly in the corner, lights flickering in time with your own contentment. You turn to go put away the last of the ribbon and paper when you open the drawer and stop dead in your tracks.

There, folded neatly, are two sets of matching Christmas pajamas—one in your size, and one... well, in his size.

Your eyes widen as you pull them out, the red-and-green plaid pattern with little snowflakes looking oddly familiar. There’s no way—he didn’t.

You turn, eyebrows raised, to find Katsuki standing in the doorway, looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights. He freezes when he sees the pajamas in your hands, then immediately crosses his arms, glaring at you like it’s your fault he’s been caught.

“It’s a coincidence,” he grunts, his usual gruff tone nowhere near convincing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You hold up the matching sets, your grin spreading wider. “Really? A coincidence? You’ve been hiding these in your drawer, Katsuki, Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

He scoffs, but you can see the faint pink tint to his cheeks. “I don’t need your judgment, okay? Just—shut up.”

You walk up to him, shaking your head with a smile that could rival the brightness of the Christmas tree. “I never thought I'd see the day where Katsuki Bakugo, the most anti-cute guy I know, would go out of his way to get matching Christmas pajamas. What’s next, you gonna buy me a matching sweater with reindeer on it?”

“I didn’t—” he starts, but you cut him off with a laugh.

Later that evening, after the presents have been exchanged and the house is filled with the warmth of Christmas cheer, you find yourself wrapped in the matching pajamas, sitting by the tree, sipping hot cocoa. You pull a blanket over your legs, snuggling into the soft fabric of the PJs.

And then, of course, Katsuki shows up. He’s wearing the exact same set, only slightly rumpled, and he’s glaring at you like you’re the one who made him wear them.

“Don’t say a word,” he mutters, eyes narrowing as he lowers himself beside you. The way his shoulders tense makes it clear he’s expecting you to say something about it.

You hold your tongue, trying not to laugh at how adorably flustered he looks, and instead, you reach out and pull him into the cozy space next to you. The smell of pine needles and fresh cinnamon fills the air as you both settle under the soft blanket, the glow of the tree lights casting a warm glow around the room.

Katsuki grumbles when your head rests on his shoulder, but he doesn’t move away. In fact, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you even closer, as if to protect the last shred of his pride that’s clinging to the fact that he’s wearing matching pajamas because he wanted to, not because you made him.

There’s a long pause before he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual. “This better be the last time you bring this up.”

But the smile on his face, and the way his hand subconsciously runs through your hair, says it all.

You don’t say a word. Instead, you simply snuggle in closer, enjoying the warmth of the moment—and the fact that, despite his grumbling, he’ll never admit it, but he’s totally in love with the idea of being cute with you, even if it’s just for this Christmas.

And when you glance up at him, his face softening as he looks back at you, you can't help but think that, maybe, matching pajamas weren't such a bad idea after all.

[nineteenninety-six]

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Chocolate Bars and Injuries [2]

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

AN: It took a while but it's finally here but I fear there will be a third part and mayhaps a fourth

Synopsis: Fate is on Jack's side as he meets you again and finally asks you on a date.

Tags: @darksparklesficrecs

PART ONE PART THREE

"So, are they gonna have beer at this party?" Jack asked as he followed Robby into Langdon's backyard.

Robby shoots him an unimpressed look. "It's a child's birthday party Jack."

"So, that's a 'yes'?"

Robby rolls his eyes as he steps into the backyard that was filled with music blasting and screaming children as they ran around the yard and climbed the bouncy castle the Langdon's rented. Parents were scattered around, talking to each other whilst keeping an eye on their children. The men dropped their gifts off at the designated gift table before they made their way over to Frank, who gave them a painful smile.

"I think I'd rather work a double than host another childs birthday party" Frank admits.

Jack nods agreement, despite the fact he did not have a child but regardless, it looked painful. As he looked around the bustling yard, Jack spied Cassie Mckay with her kid Harrison and Dana with her daughters who were older than the rest of the kids but seemed to be enjoying themselves.

As Robby and Langdon talked, Jack wandered off to the snack table, eyes laser focused on the bowl of chocolates. He was so focused on digging for his favourite he didn't clock the person approaching him until they were pressed against his side, breath tickling against his neck.

"They don't have any bounty bars do they?"

For a brief moment, Jack thought he was hallucinating, after all you had occupied a permanent place in his mind and he could not stop thinking about you but when he whipped his head to the side, you were really there, pressed up against him with a smirk on your lips.

"What the hell?" Jack stared open mouthed at you.

"Apparently, Caspian and Tanner Langdon are in the same class." You explain but your focus was on the bowl of chocolate,"I'm guessing you work with Frank?"

Jack nods, offering you a twix which you accept with a resigned shrug " Yeah, he works day shift."

Your eyes flicker up to the bright blue midday sky, a smile lifting your lips. "And did they force you to come on your day off or are you working tonight?"

"It's my day off, besides it's good to foster stronger relationships both in and out of the workspace" Jack parrots the words Robby had told him earlier that day, "Or so Robby says"

"Robby?" You question as the two of you left the snack table, heading towards the drink table.

"Michael Robinavitch but he prefers to go by Robby" He motions towards the slightly older man who was still with Frank.

"Is he a doctor too?" You ask, a teasing smile on your lips "And what do you like to go by? Or do you prefer me calling you Dr Abbot?"

"You call me Jack" He doesn't raise to your teasing words as he nods, cracking open a can or beer with a pleased smile.

"Are all your friends doctors, Jack?"

"No..." Jack takes a sip of beer, "Some are a couple of old military friends"

"Huh" You pick up a can of soda, "So all of your friends are just people you've worked with instead?"

Jack grins and follows you back to where you were before, settling in the chair beside you and it quickly becomes obvious why you've chosen this specific space—you had a clear view of Caspian, wincing whenever he played around too hard.

"He's gonna land himself back in hospital" Jack says, watching as the child throws himself around.

You grunt in annoyance and agreement, "Don't threaten him with a good time. He now thinks hospitals are great. He'll demand that you'll be his doctor though, he really likes you."

A smug grin works its way up Jack's face at the information, "Oh yeah?"

You turn to face Jack, "Yeah, I tried explaining that we only go to the hospital if we're hurt or injured, which of course he took it as, 'let's get hurt so we can see Dr. Abbot'".

Jack knocks his foot against yours, something that prompts a smile from you, "I guess that means we have to see each other more often then."

"I guess so," You're smiling.

Just then Caspian ran over, leaning against you as he tried to capture his breath and happily taking the bottle of water you offered. The young child had been wrapped up in having fun and then bugging you for snacks that he hadn't noticed the doctor that he liked so much right next to you.

You waited until he had gulped down a few mouthfuls of water and had caught his breath before you brought it up, "Hey, are you not going to stay hello to my friend?"

Caspian looks over at him with wide eyes and there's a brief moment before Caspian realises who he was and when he does, a smile so large takes over his face.

"Dr Jack!"

"Hey kid," Jack holds his fist out for a fistbump which Caspian eagerly does, "You can just call me Jack. I'm not your doctor anymore."

Caspian nods and he moves to speak again but a classmate of his calls his name and Caspian darts off, rushing off to play making you and Jack laugh.

Robby makes his way to where Jack has tucked himself away in the corner of the yard, taking a breather from the party that had only just started to die down. 'Happy Birthday' had been sung, gifts had been opened, party bags had been handed out and now the kids were crashing from the busy day they had and parents were taking the opportunity to go back home, thanking and waving goodbye to the Langdon's as they left the yard.

Jack's eyes had hardly left you all day, even when you joined the women and he was with the men, they would constantly flicker over to you and of course, Robby hadn't missed it.

"So…who's the girl?" Robby asks, passing Jack another beer.

"She's not a girl, she's a woman in her thirties" Jack preemptively defends himself, "She came into the ED months ago with her younger brother."

"And you've exchanged numbers? Gone on a date?"

At Jack's silence Robby can't help the bark of laughter that escapes him, looking at his friend incredulously. 

"After the life you have lived, the things you have experienced, you're scared of asking out a woman? Seriously?"

"I'm not scared" Jack quickly defended himself.

"Then," Robby took the beer out of his hand, "Go get her number before it's too late."

Jack knew he was right, he fumbled it last time and meeting again gave him a chance he thought had long gone.

Jack made his way over to you as you packed up your stuff, Caspian was slumped against your leg half asleep. You had already thanked the Langdon's for the great day and now you were contemplating how you were going to carry both Caspian and your bags back to the car when Jack appeared by your side.

"Need a hand?"

"Oh!" You give him a grateful smile. "Yes please, do you mind carrying him?"

Jack bent down and picked Caspian up effortlessly, the boy's arms quickly wrapping around his neck as Jack supported his body. He silently follows you as you say your goodbyes, pointedly ignoring the curious stares from Robby, Dana, Mckay and Langdon, knowing that when he returns to work he'll be the main topic of gossip.

He follows you to your car, settling Caspian in his car seat and watching as you strapped him in, double checking that everything was secured properly before you stepped back and closed the door quietly.

"Thank you again."

Jack steps closer to you, his head lowering so he can speak softly into your ear, "I talked myself out of it last time but I refuse to let anything stop me this time."

You tilt your head slightly closer to his, waiting for him to continue speaking.

"I want to take you out on a date. And another one after that if you'll let me." Jack 's gaze is unrelenting as he stares at you. "I'd also like your number as well."

You hum at his words and smile up at him, "You want a lot of things don't you Jack? It's a good thing I want those things too. Pass me your phone."

Jack unlocks and passes his phone to you, watching with an unwavering gaze as you tapped in your phone number and then drop calling yourself so that you had his number.

"I expect at least a phone call after your little speech" You joke as you pass back his phone.

"I'II see you soon"

"I hope you do" You wave at him before you enter your car, driving off moments later and Jack watches until your car disappears.

Jack does contact you after the party, a message coming through your phone just as you finish tucking Caspian for the night. It was a simple text, just checking that you got home safe but once you reply, you can't stop and the two of you text all night until the early hours where you eventually drift off. You did briefly apologize at one point for keeping him up all night before he reminded you that he worked nights and therefore she wasn't keeping him up, rather he was keeping her up.

Scheduling a date however ends up being much more complicated. Between your regular nine-to-five, his twelve hour night shifts, and finding a good sitter for Caspian, finding a date where everything lined up was difficult but you managed and now on the evening of the very awaited date, you were sat in your room as you did the final touches of your makeup as Caspian became accounted with the babysitter downstairs.

You check your phone and realise you're rapidly approaching the time Jack had promised to pick you up and you knew that Jack was a punctual person, always turning up on time. You make your way downstairs and watch as Caspian gets to know the neighbouring teenager who had offered their babysitting services. It was the first time you had gone out by yourself since your parents had died and you got custody, so today was a big deal for the both of you.

The doorbell goes off and you hurry over to open it, smiling at Jack on your front step, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Good evening" Jack steps forward and presses a kiss to your cheek before passing you the flowers with a shy smile.

You accept them with a happy hum and invite him inside, waving for him to follow you as you head to the kitchen to find a vase.

"Thank you for these" You thank him as you fill a vase with water and place the flowers in it, humming happily as you admire it on the kitchen island. "I don't think I've ever been given flowers by a date before."

"I assure you it won't be the last time you get flowers from me" Jack flirts, watching as your eyes light up at the meaning behind his words.

"You're promising me a second date before we've even started our first date? You're that confident?" 

"That a problem?"

"Nope. I do like a confident man." You wink, before you grab his band, tugging him behind you as you leave the kitchen, "There's someone that really wants to see you before we leave."

"Yeah, I want to see him too. I got a little gift for him as well."

"Are you buttering him up or something?"

"Or something" Jack keeps his secrets close.

Caspian is ecstatic to see Jack again and becomes over the moon when Jack pulls out a hot wheels car for him, jumping into the man's arms as he chants 'thank you' over and over again. 

You manage to pull Caspian off of Jack before you pull him into a hug, squishing him as you cover his face in kisses as you say good bye, promising him that you'll be home to tuck him in and after that you leave, waving at Caspian one last time before you close the door behind you with a heavy breath.

"You alright?" Jack asks as he guides you towards his truck, hand resting on the small of you back.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm excited." You reassure him, "I'm just still getting used to the whole being a parent thing and juggling my time and responsibilities along with caring for him."

"You're doing a great job-" Jack lets out a laugh at your disbelieving expression, "The kid loves you a lot. Seriously. Don't doubt yourself."

Jack steps forward to open the passenger door to his truck and helps you step up into it, pausing when your hand rests on his arm, thanking him for his kind words which he responds with a smile and a squeeze to your thigh before stepping back, closing the door and making his way to the driver's seat.

"Oh I love Indian food," You hum happily, thanking the server as he guided you to your seats and passed menus to the both of you.

 "I found this place shortly after I moved to Pittsburgh" Jack tells you, "A hidden gem, one of my favourite places in the city."

You peer at him over the menu, "Then I trust you to order what we're eating tonight."

Jack stared back with raised brows, "For the both of us?"

"Yup!" You nod, "You up for the challenge?"

Jack accepts the challenger with ease, never one to back down from one.

"How's your spice tolerance?"

"High…I love a little spice."

Jack knocks it out of the park and orders dishes that you absolutely fall in love with, making him promise to bring you back another time which he agrees to with an easy smile. 

After dinner, which of course Jack pays for without question, you decide to take a walk, your hands intertwining easily as you stroll through the streets together with Jack pointing out the restaurants he'll take you to on future dates. You end up finding a coffee shop, settling in a booth with a decaf tea for you and a regular coffee for him.

"I keep thanking you for tonight but this has been a really great day, I've enjoyed a lot" You tell him around sips of your tea.

"I'm just sorry for not getting your number all those months ago"

"Well you have plenty of time to make up for those lost months" You tease, "I don't doubt you will make the most of it." 

"Never again," Jack promises.

Jack pulled to a stop in front of your house, putting the car in park before he turned to face you to find you already staring at him, a soft smile on your lips. 

"You see something you like?"

You hum, eyes tracing over his face taking notes of his deep eyes, greying hair and curls. "Yeah, I see something I like alot."

With quick succession you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean across the console, your hands pulling him into a soft, almost shy kiss that is almost immediately deepened by Jack. His own belt comes off as he leans further into you, his hands framing your face as his kisses become deeper and more intense.

You pull away to catch your breath, laughing at the remnants of your lipgloss smeared around his mouth.

"Cherry?" Jack hums as he licks his lips.

"Uh-huh" You wipe the leftover lipgloss that was on his face with your sleeve, "You like?"

Jack leans forward, his lips brushing against yours, "I'm not sure, I need another taste to be sure."

You kiss again, minutes drifting by as you each get lost in the sensation of each other's lips until you pull away, giggling at Jack's huff of disappointment.

"I know," You coo at him, "But I do have to go home,"

Jack is silent for a moment, keeping eye contact with you until he sits back up straight, "Okay, I'll walk you to your door."

He of course sneaks in one last kiss before you slip your key into the front door and unlock it, alerting the occupants of your return. Caspian's eyes are heavy and his footsteps slow as he greets you at the door and he doesn't even perk up at the sight of Jack, it's obvious that he was delaying his sleep to wait for you.

You quickly fish out the cash to pay for the baby sitter and thank her, your eyes not leaving her until she was safely in her house across the street. Then  you crouch down in front of Caspian, running your thumbs over his chubby cheeks before you press a kiss to each cheek.

"Why don't you go up to bed and I'll be there in a few minutes okay?"

Caspian nods before heading off, only stopping to wish a 'nightnight' to Jack who wishes him the same before he disappears up the stairs.

Jack smiles when you pull him into a hug, resting his chin on your head as you two stay like that for a moment before pulling away.

"Tonight was lovely" You tell him, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "I can't wait for the next one."

"Me either." Jack tugs you towards him and pulls you into a kiss that leaves you breathless.

"Goodnight doll," Jack grins at you before he walks back to his car.

"Goodnight!" You call after him, "Text me when you get home!"

Jack flashes you a thumbs up before climbs into his truck, driving off shortly after.

[readsaboutreid]

Cast Your Bets | S.R.

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

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

spencer x bau!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Hey, Spencer?" She spoke up eventually.

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

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

[bluebirdsfeathers]

Her Office

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Relationship: Ceo!Wanda X Butch!Loser!Reader

Summary: Wanda tried to get to know you a bit better before you start working together but an innocent question bring out painful memories.

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: age gap relationship (R is early 20s, W is like 40), Past verbal and physical abuse, Slight hinted at homophobia, Mommy issues bc i have them too, power imbalance?

A/N: sorry this took so long. uni is really kicking my butt right now and just when i thought i'd have time to write my research supervisor gives me a 400+ page book to read.

Inspiration

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

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“I can’t believe you’re abandoning me… and for my sister!” Pietro joked as he helped you clear out your desk. You’d made yourself at home over the past few months working for him. You were sad to be leaving but excited to be working for Wanda, also incredibly nervous, like throw up into the recycling bin near the printer nervous. Not that that had happened of course.

“But seriously, we are going to miss you down here. Don’t go forgetting about us.” He patted you on the back handing you the last of your stuff.

“How could I forget you? I’ll be down here like every other day wont I? Wanda visits all the time.” you reply with slight confusion. Wanda was always coming down to check on things, like she must do with all the departments. You assumed most of your job would be to accompany her many visits around the building. Staying close and taking notes on what she says like you’d seen Theo do.

“Yeah, she definitely was just coming down here for routine check-ins.” Pietro mumbled with the faintest air of smugness of someone who knows something you don’t has. Before you could register what he said, the doors on the far side of the room swung open and in came Wanda.

 Her stride exuded confidence as she made her way over to you and your now empty desk. Her hair was slightly messy, shirt untucked, and instead of her usual high heels she wore flats.

“Got everything?” She sounded short of breath, like she had just been running. “The elevator to my office is being inspected so we’ll have to take the stairs.” Without another word, Wanda started walking back towards the door pausing to look behind her when she sensed you hadn’t moved. “Come on those 15 floors won’t climb themselves.” Suddenly her slightly dishevelled appearance made sense. You took a deep breath and gave one last look at Pietro, who seemed to be going to great lengths to not laugh at his sister, before following Wanda.

The stair well was in stark contrast to the rest of the building. Tall grey brick walls and bright white lighting. It seemed to also double as extra storage space judging by the stacks of boxes and pallets back here. You only seen them briefly while getting your monthly fire safety talks from a very unenthusiastic Dr. Banner, who once again felt the need to remind the group he had much more important things to be doing than this. As much as you found the man funny, he’s short temper made him a little scary at times.

People yelling had always been something you weren’t fond of. Your mom had always been so angry with you for not behaving like she wanted. The constant being told to sit, speak, and act ‘like a lady’ throughout your childhood had led to so many arguments. Femininity was just something you never had an interest in and the pressure to fit in from your family only made you reject it harder.

This never made the yelling easier, instead it had only made you desperate to avoid that sort of conflict. Wanda yelling the other day had scared you in a way you hadn’t felt since you were a child, and you were now desperate to make sure you were never on the receiving of her rage.

“Y/n, careful.” You had been so lost in thought you’d missed a step and stumbled forward. Wanda who had been talking non-stop about how inconvenient the elevator maintenance was stopped to help you pick up some pens that had fallen from the box you were carrying. “Do you need some help with that? It looks heavy.”

You saw this a challenge.

“No I’m fine, I’m very strong.” Wanda gave you a smile as she placed the pens back into the box touching your hand as she pulled away before turning around to continue climbing the stairs. Your face immediately flushed red.

“Only 4 more flights to go.” Her voice echoed off the bare walls was she turned another corner. You let out a sigh, the box was actually really heavy.

Once in her office you placed the box on an empty desk in the corner of the room. It was pushed up to the window and gave you an amazing view of New York. It was only then you realised how high up you were.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Wanda came up behind you making you jump slightly, all this achieved was making the red head chuckle slightly. “You’re so jumpy you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” You gave a small smile. Being alone with Wanda was terrifying and exciting all at once. The reality of the situation hadn’t really sunk in till just now. It was going to be the two of you, alone, very often from here out.

“Can I ask you something?” You nervously asked fiddling with the hem of your shirt not daring to look Wanda in the eyes. Her beautiful green eyes.

“Of course you can, darling.” Her final word rattled about in your brain momentarily making you forget what you even wanted in the first place.

“What you said, before,” Finally a coherent thought, “about wanting me, from the start. Was that true?”

“Yes, why would I lie.” Wanda raised an eyebrow giving you a no-nonsense look that you couldn’t if it was fully serious or not.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that! I just, why didn’t you? You know, pick me the first time?” It was definitely a word salad that came out your mouth, thank God you were better at writing than speaking. “I’m sorry I don’t mean to pry…” you added after Wanda took a second to respond.

“No, no, don’t apologies…” She took a deep breath as if debating what to say. “That first day, I thought you had potential,” she began, clearly choosing her words carefully, “I just wanted to, see if you had what it takes to you know, be mine.”

“Be… yours.” The words caught in your throat as swallowed hard, struggling to speak.

“Be my intern, my assistant.” Wanda rushed to clarify but something inside you felt like her previous words were more honest. Not that you would dare push her on it. “And being my intern comes with a lot of responsibility, so I hope you are ready.”

“Yes ma’am.” You say saluting the older woman, who found the action quite amusing. “What do you need me to do first?”

Turns out Wanda didn’t want you to do anything just yet. Instead the two of you sat across from each other in the strange living room area of her office. Wanda lent back into a large leather armchair while you sat on the edge of the couch, almost velvety, black sofa.

She offered you a tea or coffee but instead you opted for the remnants of the energy drink you had tried to chug on the train this morning. Your choice in beverage clearly wasn’t approved by Wanda but she did little to stop you besides remind you of their negative health effects.

She asked you questions about yourself, clearly wanting to get to know you better but you held back from answering her questions too honestly, scared of being fired or disappointing her which was somehow worse in your head. They were all basic questions, and you asked some back at her.

She wanted to know about your favourite meal, how to you travel to work, where are you staying, and when you were going to get some proper work shoes. Your real answer being when they made comfortable ones but instead you opted to say when you get your next paycheck.

Then she asked something that caught you completely off guard. “How is your relationship with your family?”

“My family?” You repeat to make sure you were hearing things right.

“Yes, your family, you are one of the only interns not from a known family in the city, you mentioned you aren’t from New York originally, they must be proud of you?” Wanda spoke with a warm smile.

You hadn’t noticed but during the conversation you had leant back into the couch. It was like she had given you permission to relax for a change. You didn’t understand why but talking with Wanda made you feel comfortable, almost too comfortable at times making you need to remind yourself she was your boss.

“They umm,” your mind went to the argument you’d had with your father when you told him you were going to university miles away, almost across the entire country, “can we talk about something else.” Your voice shook slightly at the memory.

How angry he’d been, how angry he always was. The same with your mother, always so resentful, never protecting you from him. You spent your first semester coach surfing with a black eye till you had enough money to afford to rent a shitty little apartment.

“Sweetie, it’s okay.” Wanda had seemingly caught on that something was wrong and moved to sit next to you on the couch. She placed her arm around you and pulled you into a side hug that made your whole body tense. “For what it’s worth, I’ve seen your grades and watched how hard you work. I’m proud of you y/n.” Her voice had the same warmth as earlier, it was sickeningly genuine to you.

All you wanted to do was melt into her arms, but you couldn’t this was your boss. She was just being nice, there was no way she would let you get that close to her under regular circumstances. You told yourself you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. You’d seen how ruthless she could be, and it terrified you to think of being on the receiving end. Catching feelings would just make your eventual fuck up ever worse.

Besides there was no way in hell CEO Wanda Maximoff, multimillionaire Wanda Maximoff, Old enough to be your mother Wanda Maximoff would ever have feelings for you in return.

“I need to go to the bathroom.” You stood up as quickly as Wanda grip on you allowed. “Sorry.” You hurried to the small bathroom in the corner of the room, locking the door behind you before allowing yourself a moment to cry.

Cruel words from you parents fought the gentle reassurance Wanda had given you. You took a moment to collect yourself. Taking several deep breaths and trying to get rid of the redness in your eyes with a little cold water from the tab.

The bathroom, like everything in Wanda’s office screamed sophistication. The mostly white tiles with the smallest hint of red complemented the plush red hand towels, and several well looked after plants littered a shelf above the toilet. Most surprisingly was the shower and clawfoot tub in the room. Did she actually use them? Or where they just there because they could be?

Finally you were ready to leave the bathroom, stepping out you saw Wanda quickly look away from your direction. Had she been watching the door the whole time?

“Y/n, feeling better?” you gave a weak nod. “Good, right back to business then, first order is sorting out… this.” She pointed towards you clothing. Since Pietro had never required you to dress professionally, you had never updated your wardrobe. You wore the same baggy, teen boy esc clothing you always did.

“Yeah, I thought that would be a problem, sorry about the way I dress. I just…”

“No I like the way you dress.” Wanda cut you off. “I mean, you dress fine, it’s just not… appropriate if you are going to be accompanying me to important meetings and such.” You couldn’t tell if you were imagining it, but you could have sworn you saw a small blush creep onto the older woman’s face.

“Right, there should be a measuring tape in the third draw of the left cabinet in my office. I have some work to get on with you can’t help with.” Wanda began quickly pressing the button of the, hopefully, now working lift.

“I want you to measure yourself and note it down. I’ll sort you out some more work appropriate clothing.” Before you could ask any other follow up questions the doors to the lift opened and she rushed inside, disappearing almost immediately.

Walking into Wanda’s office you looked out at the city, everything seemed so quiet, so still from all the way up here. Grabbing the measuring tape you sat down at your desk, getting your phone out to look up exactly what measurement you need to give her. You’d never had to think about measurements when buying clothes before. Your face flushed a bit think about the idea of Wanda choosing you some clothes. Hopefully she wouldn’t put you in a pencil skirt, or God forbid heels.

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Tag list: @wandaslittlehorns @starfire1008 @mirage018 @viosblog112 @nebthetautora @ciaoooooo111 @cowboy-hunter @htinha157 @the-falling-avenger @reginassecretlover @canyonyodeler @mrsromanovaa @loneliestafterparty @imawandasimp @caramelcat123 @marvelwomen-simp @reginassweetheart @unadulteratedballoonduck @kei034 @coollemonsaresour 

[nerdygirlramblings]

the omegaverse brain worms won't leave me alone

previous

A slightly stale smell wafts out when you open your room. It gives the space a neglected air. It doesn't feel like yours anymore, even though your absence was brief. The room you once occupied in your family home now has cribs for the new twins. You don't know where you belong. How could things have changed so much so quickly? You're adrift, unmoored in a sea of your emotions.

Your bag thunks against your bed when you drop it, the hollow sound echoing your inner turmoil. Things haven't felt right since you and your parents had The Talk. You want to get another perspective, so your next stop is the administration building. Adam's been talking up the pack since you joined the team, but you know he'll be brutally honest if you ask, and his experience with military packs is insight you crave.

Just as you're about to head out you spy the jumper you'd borrowed from the team weeks ago. You snag the hem, dragging it towards you. Enveloped in the warm, fresh scent, you feel a little better. A little more you. The jersey is armor of a different sort for your battered soul.

With your omega whining constantly, you know a decision about joining the 141 pack has to be made soon. You either need to take a leap of faith or start seriously looking elsewhere.

Adam glances up from his computer as you come down the hall, smile plastered on his face. "You came quick! I just sent you the message."

Your steps falter and you glance across at him. "What do you mean?"

He raises a brow. "What do you mean what do I mean? Mission request from Laswell just came in. The guys are back and making their way over, and I just sent the message to you. Isn't that why you're here?"

With the team on their way, you can't ask Adam what you want, but he doesn't need to know that. Not yet. You resolve yourself to finding another time to corner him. For now, you paste a smile on and respond, "Just a happy coincidence. I actually came by ta thank ya."

His head tilts a bit to the left, and he raises a brow. He's smiling, but his scent belies his confusion. "Another thank you? What for this time?"

You merely beam at him and pull up the recent photos on your phone. You flip it around to show him the photo you took just this morning, holding Grant in one arm and Amelia in the other. "Turns out Dad was heading to the birth centre as I got in. If I'd stayed here, I would 'a missed it." You don't even try to hide the joy in your voice.

He squeals like you knew he would and pops up from his chair. He skirts the desk, arms open to embrace you. "Oh, honey! I'm so happy for you. I know how much this means for you." He squeezes you tightly to him when you hear a throat clearing behind you.

Yelping, you push back from Adam sheepishly, chuckling behind you. He glares peevishly over your shoulder at whomever is there. You're fairly certain you recognize the restrained laughter. Your suspicions are confirmed when you peer behind you to see your team in the entry.

"Ye look good, lass. Cozy," Johnny says. There's something running under his words, a subtext you don't have the vocabulary to make sense of. "Wha's got ye smilin'?" he teases, as if you don't know Price told the team the good news. Still, it's a chance to try and make this transition back into team dynamics normal. To ignore the reason you weren't with them is because Ghost, who is standing back behind everyone else but whose gaze damn near pins you in place with a look you can't decipher, just came off his rut. Which your omega reminds you you'd help him with next time if you joined the pack. A trickle of fear and wave of desire hit you at the same time. Thank god you put scent blockers on before you left home.

"It's the new pups," you tell them, voice surprisingly steady, taking your phone from Adam and holding it out.

You're smiling as they react appropriately. Johnny coos, "Lookit the bairns!" while Price grins at the picture. Ghost grunts, and Gaz hooks his arm around your shoulder, saying "Congrats, Ren! More siblings to dote on."

You have no idea what you've done to them with just the sight of you holding the babies. The smell in the small space shifts, deepens. There's a hint now of brine, clean clothes, forest greenery, but before you can figure out what it means, Adam quickly ushers you all into the conference room where it feels like the air conditioner is on blast. You shiver and hunch a little more into the borrowed jersey.

Laswell's already up on screen side-by-side with a series of photos. "Good, sit. We'll get started," she says as everyone files in. This is your first time joining a 141 mission, and you stand for a moment, unsure of your place here. Captain Price is at the head of the table with Ghost to his right (fittingly). Gaz is on a computer near the screen, and Soap takes the seat next to the leftenant.

Laswell must notice your hesitation and says, "Why don't you take a seat next to Gaz, Ren, so you can see some of the raw data." Once you're seated, she begins. "This is Albert Spinner," she says, highlighting an image of a man in his mid-forties or maybe early fifties. There's a little grey streaking the light brown hair at his temples, and its cut is professional. There are slightly visible laugh lines around his eyes. There's no context for his height, but he's of average build. He's not overly fit or heavy. This is a man who takes care of his appearance. It's clear in the crisp lines of the dove grey bespoke suit he's wearing. Nothing off-the-rack would fit so nicely.

He looks like the kind of man your parents would be friends with if they had a little more money.

"He's a known gun runner, but the man has shell companies for his shell companies," Laswell continues. "His front-facing persona is philanthropist entrepreneur. We've never been able to pin him down, but I got word he'll be in London next week at a charity auction. There's another know smuggler going to be in attendance." The screen flickers to another man, younger but in worse shape. The matching tracksuit looks expensive but doesn't sit as well on him as Spinner's suit does. He's not going grey, but his forehead looks large. Receding? He's a little heavy around the middle, the tracksuit pulling tight across his stomach. "Thomas Arella. Not as clean as Spinner. Not sure how he got an invitation as even his cover is dirty. Runs guns but covers it with shady loans. He's a big fish in a small pond, but Spinner runs with the big boys."

She pauses as all this information sinks in. Before she says anything, you're fairly certain this is going to take some improv skills. A charity auction isn't going to have an assets to recover; Laswell's going to want intel.

"What I need is to send in Ren, and one of the betas as her chaperone, to distract Arella." Through the screen, Laswell looks directly at you. "How are you at concealing your scent?"

You're stunned for a moment to be addressed directly and mutter, "Okay, I guess. My Dad taught me some things after I presented."

Laswell's nodding as you talk. "Good," she says, "because I need you off your scent blockers. He's a sucker for a pretty face, and if your omega can entice him, he'll be completely off his game and vulnerable. Then whoever's with you can clone his phone, and hopefully we'll get some hard intel on Spinner."

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Under the mistletoe at a Daily Planet party for Clark Kent. No lois lane slander plz, I love her!

A/n: I could never 😩. She was my favorite back in the animated series and I love her in the comics. Fuck anyone that writes negative shit about her and just bashes her character.

If you want a different clark please let me know 🙏.

It was the annual Christmas party at the Daily Planet and once again Clark found himself in the corner of the room with his gaze fixated on you. Your laugh ringing in his ears for something that Lois had said.

Lois the ever observant one turned to find Clark's gaze on you a smirk forming on her lips. Jumping, Clark quickly turned away finding the drink he was holding much more interesting.

"So Smallville when you gonna take the plunge and finally ask out our favorite photographer?"

"Lois!" Clark quickly adjusted the glasses on his face, his cheeks flushed a deep red. "I don't know what you're talking about." He muttered.

Rolling her eyes, Lois placed on hand on her hip as she pursed her lips. "I'm not blind Kent! I'm pretty sure everyone can see your feelings for them in space..."

"I don-."

An exasperated sigh escaped as she stepped behind the man giving him a hard shove. "God it's like pushing a brick house." She muttered. "They are under a Mistletoe..now that's your excuse now go!"

"You're very pushy!"

"I call it being innovated! Now go!"

Stumbling forward, Clark took a few steps then narrowed his eyes spotting another work step towards you. Making a B-line to you, Clark slipped in between you and his co-workers name he happened to forget.

"H-hey."

Beaming, you gave Clark a bright smile as you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. "Hey Clark, you enjoying the party?"

"Y-ya I." Glancing up at the Mistletoe he then looked to you.

Lois's voice, her whisper somewhere in the office urging him to do something. "Kiss them." She hissed ignoring the looks she was getting.

Adjusting his tie, Clark cleared out his throat giving you a nervous grin. "So uh...I happened to notice we are standing under the Mistletoe and I...would you mind...I mean you don't have to but can I kiss you?"

Blinking, your gaze flicked up to the red and green plant that hung above you both. Gaze softening, you smiled then stood up standing on your toes as your breath fanned across his lips. "I'd like that Clark."

Returning your smile, Clark let his arm wrap around your hips drawing you in close. "Good." Bending down his lips grazed yours in a soft and gentle kiss.

Holding her head high, Lois crossed her arms over her chest. "I made that happen."

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Shades of Red | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Dark!Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Reader

Warnings: dark themes + smut 18+, breaking + entering, jealousy, possessiveness, toxic themes, slight power dynamics, rough sex, choking, light slapping, spitting, overstimulation, oral (f receiving), squirting, breeding kink } everything is consensual but read at your own risk !

Summary: Passion, anger, lust, jealousy—all woven together into one man. Terry is charming, entitled, enticing and dangerous. YN couldn’t have seen his latest move coming….

Word count: 4.7K

a/n: This is my first time writing anything remotely dark and I think I really stepped outside of my little box. I wanted to craft a toxic love letter of sorts and I'd love to hear your thoughts..

Terry Richmond wasn’t the kind of man who stayed anywhere too long. His life was like a shifting tide—here today, gone tomorrow, always pulling away just when you thought you had him figured out. The nomadic way he moved through life suited him. He’d had his fill of staying still, of people poking too closely at the layers of armour he’d carefully crafted. Shelby Springs was just another pit stop, a place he landed when the world got too loud. And it’s where he met YN.

They’d been introduced a couple of years back through a mutual friend who had the bright idea of setting them up. “You two would be perfect for each other,” the friend had said with entirely too much conviction. But what had started as a well-intentioned matchmaking attempt quickly took a detour.

From the jump, Terry and YN decided that dating wasn’t in the cards. He was too restless, too unpredictable. She had her own life, full and vibrant, with no room to babysit someone who disappeared for weeks at a time with no explanation. Still, their chemistry was undeniable, electric in a way neither could ignore. They both wanted something—each other. And so, they reached a compromise: friends with benefits. No strings, no expectations, no hard feelings.

For the most part, it worked. YN respected Terry’s need for space, and he appreciated that she didn’t cling or demand more than he was willing to give. She had her own thing going on—a career she loved, friends who kept her laughing, and a life that was full even without him in it. She’d grown used to his disappearing acts, the way he’d go rogue and vanish for weeks or months at a time. He always came back, though. And when he did, he always found his way to her.

He was good at that—finding her. A text here, a call there, a late-night knock on her door. She’d let him in every time because, for all his flaws, there was something about Terry that drew her in. Maybe it was his charm, that easy confidence that made her roll her eyes even as it made her pulse quicken. Or maybe it was the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing that mattered when he was near. Whatever it was, she couldn’t quite quit him. And truthfully, she didn’t want to.

But this time felt different.

His text came in the middle of the day while her phone was on silent. She didn’t see it until much later, after the rush of meetings and emails had finally died down.

“Be back in town tomorrow night. Clear your schedule for me.”

The audacity of it made her laugh out loud. Terry had never been one to ask—he told. It was part of his charm and part of what made her want to strangle him sometimes. Still, she wasn’t mad. She got as much out of their arrangement as he did, and she’d been known to hit him up with the same kind of energy when the mood struck. They were equals in that way, unapologetic about what they wanted from each other.

But tonight, she couldn’t clear her schedule for him.

She typed out her response quickly, a small smirk on her lips as she imagined his reaction.

“Can’t tomorrow. Got a date.”

The reply came faster than she expected.

“A date, huh?”

That was it. No teasing, no snide comments, no flirty jabs. Just three little words that carried a weight she couldn’t quite place.

She frowned at the screen, re-reading the message as if the meaning would suddenly reveal itself. It was unlike Terry not to have some kind of comeback, some witty remark designed to get under her skin. The lack of it left her unsettled. But she shrugged it off, chalking it up to him being busy or distracted.

On the other side of the phone, though, Terry wasn’t as calm as he seemed.

Sitting in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of God-knows-where, he stared at her message, his jaw tight. A date. Someone else was taking her out, sitting across from her, making her laugh, looking at her the way he looked at her. And worse, someone else might be touching her, staking a claim to what he’d quietly, possessively come to think of as his.

He took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to calm the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. She wasn’t his. Not really. They didn’t have that kind of relationship. But the thought of someone else having her, even for one night, made his chest burn with something he couldn’t quite name.

Terry’s fingers hovered over the screen, itching to say something, to tell her to cancel, to remind her who always had her coming back. But he stopped himself. No, he’d let her have her little date. Let her laugh and flirt and pretend that whoever this guy was could give her what she needed. Because when it was all said and done, she’d come back to him.

And when she did, he’d make damn sure she remembered exactly who she belonged to.

Terry Richmond wasn’t an easy man to forget, and that much was evident as YN stood in her bathroom mirror, smoothing on her lipstick for the finishing touch. Tonight was a rare occasion for her—a date with someone who wasn’t him. She tilted her head slightly, assessing her reflection. The soft waves in her hair framed her face just right, the shimmer on her eyelids caught the light, and the dress she’d chosen fit like a second skin. She looked good. She felt good.

Still, a shadow lingered in the back of her mind, one with piercing eyes and an infuriatingly smug smirk. YN had spent the last two hours convincing herself this date was just what she needed: a change, something uncomplicated. Terry was Terry—a storm she willingly walked into time and time again. But tonight? Tonight was about something different, something quieter.

Her phone buzzed on the counter, and her eyes flicked to the screen. A simple text from her date: “Looking forward to tonight. See you soon!”

She smiled faintly, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes. YN tucked the phone into her clutch, grabbed her coat, and headed out. It was time to leave Terry Richmond out of her headspace—for now.

The restaurant was cozy and inviting, the kind of place that struck a balance between intimate and casual. Her date, Mark, had chosen well. He was polite, attentive, and easy on the eyes—a charming blend of confidence and warmth. They’d talked about work, travel, books, and even swapped a couple of funny anecdotes about their childhoods. By all accounts, it should’ve been perfect.

But halfway through Mark’s story about his latest hiking trip, YN caught herself tuning out. Not entirely—she was still nodding at the right moments, laughing softly where appropriate—but her mind drifted, unbidden, to another memory. One of Terry.

She could almost hear his voice, teasing and sharp. “Hiking, huh? Bet he’s one of those guys who carries a selfie stick to the summit just to post about it.” The thought was so vivid, so him, that YN nearly laughed aloud. She caught herself, her smile faltering for a moment before she refocused on Mark.

“So, what about you? Do you hike much?” he asked, his tone genuinely curious.

“Not really,” YN replied smoothly, pushing the thought of Terry aside. “But it sounds like you’ve had some incredible adventures.”

Mark beamed, and the conversation continued. YN did her best to stay present, to enjoy the evening for what it was. By the time dessert came around, she’d almost succeeded in compartmentalizing the storm that was Terry Richmond.

Almost.

The date ended as expected—with polite goodbyes and the suggestion that they should “do this again sometime.” Mark walked her to her car like a gentleman, and she thanked him for the lovely evening. As she slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door, YN let out a small sigh.

It hadn’t been a bad date—not by a long shot. Mark was sweet, thoughtful, and seemed genuinely interested in her. But he wasn’t...well, she refused to finish that thought.

Her hands gripped the steering wheel as she started the engine, the soft purr of the car filling the quiet night. She glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. The lipstick was still perfectly intact, the curls still falling in place. By all accounts, the night had been a success. So why did it feel like something was missing?

Across town, Terry sat in his truck, parked a few blocks from YN’s apartment. His phone screen glowed faintly in the darkness as he scanned the messages she hadn’t yet responded to. His jaw tightened. The thought of her out with someone else wasn’t one he could swallow easily, no matter how cool and composed he pretended to be.

Reaching over to the passenger seat, he grabbed the small black bag he’d brought with him. It contained exactly what he needed—what he’d planned for. With practiced ease, Terry slid out of the truck and moved through the shadows. The street was quiet, the kind of stillness that came late at night when most people were already home.

It didn’t take him long to reach her place. The familiarity of it was almost comforting. Almost. He worked quickly, his movements precise and deliberate, the product of years spent learning how to move unseen, unheard. Within moments, he was inside.

The scent of her perfume—light, floral, undeniably her—lingered in the air. Terry inhaled deeply, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He made his way to the living room, his boots barely making a sound against the hardwood floors.

There, on the coffee table, was the bottle of whiskey she kept for him. He chuckled softly, pouring himself a glass and settling into the armchair in the corner of the room. The dim light from the streetlamp outside cast long shadows across the walls, and Terry sat there, waiting.

She’d be home soon. And when she walked through that door, she’d find out exactly what happened when you tried to leave Terry Richmond behind.

The hum of her car engine faded into the quiet night as YN pulled into her driveway, the evening’s events still replaying in her mind. The date had been pleasant enough—a nice dinner, polite conversation, and a genuine, if not thrilling, connection. But as she turned off the ignition, an inexplicable sense of unease settled over her, clawing its way into her chest. It had been faint earlier, an odd niggling in the back of her mind, but now it was undeniable. Something was off.

Stepping out of the car, she adjusted her coat and approached her front door, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. As her hand reached for the keys in her bag, she froze. The door wasn’t locked. Her pulse quickened, and she stood there for a moment, staring at the slightly ajar entrance.

No. She distinctly remembered locking it before leaving. Didn’t she?

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, her mind racing. Maybe she had been distracted and forgotten in her rush to leave. But no matter how she tried to rationalise it, the unease only deepened. The air around her felt heavy, charged, as though the house itself was holding its breath.

Pushing the door open, she stepped inside cautiously, her senses on high alert. The room was unnervingly quiet, and yet something wasn’t right. There was an energy in the space that hadn’t been there before, a presence she couldn’t see but could feel. She paused in the doorway, her hand still gripping the doorknob as her eyes scanned the dimly lit room.

Then it hit her—the faintest trace of cologne lingering in the air, mingling with the rich, unmistakable scent of whiskey. Her stomach dropped. It couldn’t be. Could it?

Her voice cut through the silence, firm but edged with trepidation. "Terry?"

No answer. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she took a tentative step further into the house. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing like a drum in her ears. "Terrance Richmond," she called again, louder this time, her tone sharper, more demanding. "If this is some kind of joke, I swear—"

Her words faltered as her eyes adjusted to the low light, finally spotting the shadowed figure seated in the corner of the room. The amber glow of a table lamp barely illuminated his silhouette, but she didn’t need to see his face to know. She would recognise his posture anywhere, relaxed yet commanding, his arm draped over the back of her chair as though he owned the place. The glass in his hand caught the light as he raised it to his lips, the sound of ice clinking faintly breaking the silence.

"Terry," she breathed, her voice a mix of anger and disbelief.

He set the glass down with deliberate slowness, leaning forward just enough for the light to catch his features—a smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with an unsettling mix of amusement and something darker. "Welcome home, Princess."

“You’re home late,” he said, his voice smooth and low.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, her heart pounding as adrenaline coursed through her veins. “How did you even get in?”

He raised the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip before answering. “You’re not the only one with a key, Princess.”

“I never gave you—”

“You didn’t have to,” he interrupted, setting the glass down with deliberate precision. “I’m a resourceful man.”

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, fury and confusion warring inside her. “You can’t just break into my house, Terry. That’s insane.”

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze never leaving hers. “What’s insane is you thinking I wouldn’t notice.”

“Notice what?” she demanded, her voice rising.

“You,” he said simply, his tone unnervingly even. “Trying to replace me. With him.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, suffocating and thick. YN stared at him, her mind racing to process what was happening. This wasn’t Terry—at least, not the Terry she thought she knew. The possessiveness in his voice, the casual way he’d invaded her space, it all screamed of something darker, something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

“This isn’t about you,” she said, forcing her voice to steady. “I have a life outside of you, Terry. You don’t get to control that.”

His lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. “I’m not here to control you, YN. Just to remind you who you belong to.”

Terry’s words lingered in the air, heavy with promise and warning, as he took a slow step closer. The air crackled between them, electric, suffocating and sinister. YN felt her pulse thunder in her ears, the thrum of anticipation coursing through her veins like wildfire. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to run, to retreat, to reclaim control of the situation, but her feet refused to move. It wasn’t fear that kept her rooted in place—it was him. The commanding weight of his presence, the way his eyes bore into her with a heat that made her knees tremble.

“Terry,” she began, her voice wavering despite her best efforts to steady it, “I—”

He cut her off with a single step, closing the distance between them until the barest whisper of air separated their bodies. His scent—whiskey, spice, and the faintest trace of cedar—enveloped her senses, dizzying and disarming.

“Don’t,” he growled, tilting his head slightly as if daring her to finish that sentence. “Don’t give me excuses. Don’t feed me lies about him or pretend he’s what you want.” His hand came up, fingers brushing against her jaw, and she flinched—not from fear, but from the raw, undeniable pull between them. “You and I both know that man doesn’t know a damn thing about you.”

Her lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of her tongue, but he moved faster. His hand slid to the back of her neck, gripping just firm enough to make her gasp. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice a rough rasp against her ear. “Say you thought about me tonight.”

YN’s breath hitched. She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was delusional, but the truth burned hotter in her chest than any denial ever could. She had thought about him. His presence lingered in the back of her mind all night, the ghost of his touch, the memory of his voice. It had tainted every polite smile, every harmless laugh, every fleeting touch from a man who wasn’t him.

“I hate you,” she whispered instead, the words trembling with a mixture of fury and something far more dangerous.

Terry’s mouth twisted into a wolfish grin. “Hate me all you want, Princess,” he drawled, his thumb brushing against her lower lip. “But don’t forget who makes you feel alive.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed against hers, rough and unyielding. It wasn’t a kiss born of tenderness; it was hunger and frustration, a collision of wills that neither of them intended to lose. YN’s hands pushed against his chest, but it only seemed to fuel him further. He growled low in his throat, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before his tongue swept inside, claiming her in a way that made her knees buckle.

Her defiance melted into something impure, needier. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer even as she cursed herself for it. Terry’s hand slid down her back, gripping her waist and yanking her against him with a force that made her gasp into his mouth.

“You’re a piece of work,” she hissed when they finally broke apart, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“And you love every second of it,” he shot back, his voice dripping with arrogance. His hands didn’t stop moving, sliding under the hem of her top to find bare skin. The heat of his touch burned against her, sending shivers cascading down her spine.

“Terry…” Her voice faltered as his fingers dipped lower, tracing the curve of her hip. She hated how easily he unravelled her, how her body betrayed her with every shiver, every hitch of her breath.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips finding the curve of her neck. He bit down lightly, just enough to make her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. “I told you, I’m not here to control you. But you’re going to remember exactly who you belong to by the time I’m done.”

With one swift motion, he lifted her onto the counter, his hands gripping her thighs with bruising force. YN barely had time to protest before his mouth was on hers again, devouring her in a kiss that left no room for argument. His hands pushed her dress higher, exposing more of her skin to the cool air and his insatiable touch.

She moaned into his mouth as his fingers slid between her thighs, finding her already soaked through. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her lips. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to meet her gaze. “All night, you were mine. Even when you were with him.”

“Shut up,” she snapped, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of anger and arousal.

“Make me,” he challenged, his voice dripping with smug defiance.

She grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him down into another kiss, pouring every ounce of frustration and longing into it. But Terry wasn’t content to let her take control for long. His hand slid further up, his fingers pressing against her with a skill that had her crying out despite herself.

“Say it,” he demanded again, his breath hot against her ear as his fingers worked her relentlessly. “Say you’re mine.”

“Terry,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the tension in her body built to an unbearable crescendo.

“Say it,” he growled, his voice taking on an edge that sent a shiver of both fear and excitement racing through her.

“I—I’m yours,” she choked out, the admission torn from her lips as her body betrayed her completely.

He grinned wickedly, his fingers pushing her over the edge with ruthless precision. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as she shattered in his arms, her cries echoing through the room.

And he wasn’t done yet.

Terry’s grip on YN’s hips tightened, the pads of his fingers digging into her flesh as he hovered above her. His eyes burned into hers, dark and unrelenting, as if trying to burn every unspoken word into her very soul. He leaned down, his mouth a breath away from hers, his lips brushing against hers as he murmured, “You only ever say my name tonight. Nothing else. No one else.”

Before she could respond, his lips descended on hers with bruising intensity. The kiss was all-consuming, a searing mix of dominance and desperation, his tongue delving into her mouth as though he could taste every word she hadn’t yet spoken. When he pulled back, his gaze swept over her swollen lips, and he smirked like a predator.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he muttered, his voice rough, laced with dark amusement. “Always trying to act tough. Always pretending like you don’t need me. But I’ll fix that.”

Without another word, he moved lower, kissing his way down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses across her collarbone and between her breasts. His teeth scraped lightly against her skin, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill in the air. He paused for a moment, watching her with an almost sadistic level of patience, as if daring her to tell him to stop.

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

His hands roamed lower, pushing her thighs apart with an ease that made her stomach twist with equal parts annoyance and anticipation. She was already dripping wet, the evidence of her arousal glistening in the low light. Terry groaned at the sight, a deep, primal sound that sent a jolt of electricity through her body.

“Look at you,” he said, almost to himself, as he trailed his fingers along her folds. “So fucking perfect. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

Before she could muster any sort of response, he lowered his head between her thighs, his tongue swiping a deliberate, teasing stripe through her slickness. Her back arched involuntarily, a strangled gasp escaping her lips. Terry chuckled against her, the vibrations making her toes curl.

“That’s it,” he murmured, before diving in with a newfound ferocity. His tongue worked her clit in relentless circles, alternating between broad strokes and focused flicks that had her gripping the sheets for dear life. He didn’t stop there, though. Two of his fingers slipped inside her, curling upward in a way that made her see stars.

“Oh, fuck—Terry,” she choked out, her voice raw with desperation.

He hummed in approval, his name falling from her lips like a melody he wanted to hear on repeat. Her thighs began to tremble, the pressure building so quickly it almost scared her. She tried to pull away, overwhelmed by the intensity, but his hands clamped down on her hips, anchoring her in place.

“Uh-uh,” he growled, his lips never leaving her clit. “You’re not running from this. You’re taking everything I give you.”

The overstimulation had her head spinning, tears welling up in her eyes as her orgasm tore through her. She screamed his name, her body shaking uncontrollably as she soaked his fingers, his mouth, everything. Terry groaned in satisfaction, lapping up every drop like a man possessed.

When her body finally went limp, he sat back on his heels, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes gleamed with something feral as he watched her struggle to catch her breath.

“Good girl,” he said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “See? You don’t need anyone else. Just me.”

Before she could recover, he was on her again, positioning himself between her legs. He leaned down, spitting directly into her mouth, his gaze daring her to defy him. She swallowed without hesitation, her body responding to his dominance in ways she couldn’t control.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, lining himself up at her entrance. He pushed into her slowly, making her feel every inch of him, until he was buried to the hilt. He stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “Say it.”

“Yours,” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he began to move. His thrusts were deep and deliberate, each one designed to remind her of exactly who she belonged to. The sound of skin against skin filled the room, punctuated by her cries and his grunts.

Her mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the lines between the two blurring as he pushed her closer to the edge once more. When her responses began to falter, her head lolling to the side, he delivered a sharp slap to her cheek—not enough to hurt, but enough to snap her back into focus.

“Eyes on me,” he commanded, his voice cutting through the fog. “I want to see you come undone for me.”

She obeyed, her gaze locking onto his as her second orgasm ripped through her, even more intense than the first.

The final wave of his dominance surged as Terry pressed her deeper into the mattress, his thrusts growing slow but deliberate, each one hitting with a force that left her breathless. Her legs trembled uncontrollably around his waist, every overstimulated nerve in her body aflame, her cries breaking into fragmented whimpers.

His breathing grew heavier, ragged, the telltale signs of his release building. Still, he didn’t rush—he wanted her to feel it all. Every inch of his claim. His hand tightened around her throat as his lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice dropping to a rough, guttural growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I’m going to cum deep inside you," he rasped, his words slow and deliberate, carrying the weight of his intent. "And you’re not going to let a single drop out. You need to feel me, baby—every part of me."

Her head flung back, her lips parted in a silent gasp, unable to do anything but nod as her body clung to him, every sensation amplified. She didn’t even have time to prepare as he thrust into her one final time, his release hitting her like a brand, searing and unrelenting.

The warmth of him filled her, explored her body like it belonged there, and Terry didn’t move—he stayed there, buried to the hilt, ensuring she took every ounce of him. His hand slid from her throat to her jaw, tilting her head up to meet his intense gaze. The raw satisfaction in his eyes mirrored the shattering chaos within her.

"Mine," he murmured, the word almost reverent, though it carried the weight of a command.

They stayed like that for a moment, tangled together in the aftermath, their breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Terry brushed a stray curl from her face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite everything that had just transpired.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he said softly, almost tenderly, though the possessiveness in his tone was unmistakable. “Not tonight. Not ever.”

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[moonstruckme]

hi!! just dropping this here as you asked: i'd love something relating to smoking with remus x reader, preferably set during hogwarts years. thanks again for considering this! <3

Thanks lovely <3

cw: smoking

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 757 words

It’s a clear night. The moon is bright and high, casting a sweet blue light onto the wood floors of the astronomy tower. A cool breeze comes in through the arched openings and swirls through the space. 

“Thought I might find you here.” 

Your head turns abruptly. You’re sitting sideways on one of the metal railings, and you inhale smoke too fast in your surprise.

“Merlin’s pants, Remus,” you cough. “You have a tracking charm on me or something?” 

Remus’ lips tug at how close to the truth you are without knowing. Though, really, he didn’t need the map to know you’d be here tonight. 

“Lucky guess,” he says. “You know, you don’t have to come up here everytime you want a smoke. You could just crack a window in your dorm like the rest of us.” 

No sooner do you recover from your fit than you’re bringing the cigarette to your lips again. “My roommate doesn’t like the smell.” 

Remus tsks. He goes to join you, setting his elbows on the railing rather than balancing atop it the way you have. “I really ought to stop selling to you. You’re getting as bad as me.” 

“Are you so bad?” you ask in a sweet tone. Remus feels warmth come to his cheeks despite the chill. “Besides, I don’t hear you bemoaning the fourth years getting dependent on your business.” 

That much is true. Remus doesn’t sell to third years or younger, but everyone else is fair game; he doesn’t concern himself with what they do with the cigarettes once they have them, or how quickly they come back for more. You’re a different case. 

The breeze picks up. Remus notes the way you pull your shoulders in close. 

“Why would you come up here without a jumper?” he scolds, tugging his over his head. 

“No, stop that. I’m fine.” 

“Just take it.” 

“Why should you be cold because of my lack of forethought?” 

Remus can think of about a thousand reasons, but the one he says aloud is, “Because I run hot.” 

It’s a dim-witted thing to mention. Remus hopes you won’t make any connections between his confession and what you learned in DADA a few years back, but something about you makes him take the risk. When you only eye him dubiously, he goes on in hopes of erasing it. 

“I’m not putting it back on, so if you don’t then neither of us will get to use it.” 

You roll your eyes and extend your cigarette. “Hold this.” 

Remus does so happily, trading you for the jumper. He really had no ulterior motives behind having you wear it, but once it’s on it sparks a ridiculous, tender warmth in his chest. He wonders if he can contrive a way to fill your closet with his jumpers so you wear them all of the time. Maybe if he pitches it to his friends as a prank…

“You want some?” you nod to the cigarette burning between his fingers. 

“That’s alright.” Remus holds it out. “I’ve got plenty. And you paid for it.” 

You take it back. “Oh, come on.” You smile as you bring it to your lips. “I know you charge five quid for these, and you only make me pay three.” 

It’s true. Remus really should stop doing that, if he wants to dissuade you from bad habits. But he never can seem to help giving you special treatment. 

“You’ll be paying full price from now on,” he fibs. 

The cherry lights your eyes, making them appear to dance with amusement. “Liar.” 

Remus pretends to hold his ground for a handful of moments. It’s a nice excuse to look at you. You’re a lovely sight, lit silvery blue by the moon and with smoke blowing from between your lips. You hold his gaze. Suddenly, having something that’s touched that mouth seems an inspired idea. 

“Alright.” Remus beckons. “Let’s have it.” 

You pass it to him with something like triumph in your expression. Tingles run all the way up his arm at the brush of his fingers against yours. Remus is painfully conscious of the feel of the filter paper between his lips, of your eyes on the side of his face as he inhales. He’s never felt more self-conscious taking a drag in his life. 

“You know,” he says around the cigarette, “I ought to finish this for you, and then cut you off.” 

“Remus,” you say, teasing, “you’d only give me the next pack for two quid.” 

Remus knows that’s true, too.