#god i need to give her a last name don't i?? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bi-writes · 1 month

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who to call to clean up after an "accident" than your sick and twisted military boyfriend? :D (dark!ghost x dark!fem!reader, 18+)

cw: dark!reader, dark!simon, horror movie vibes, graphic depictions of character death/murder, unhealthy relationship dynamics, one slip of daddy, smut, unprotected piv, simon "spit in my mouth" riley, reader and simon are kinda psycho :D

you've been so nice to her. really nice. you've let it slide off your back whenever she doesn't do her dishes. you pretend you don't notice when she borrows your shoes from the hallway and wears them out to dinner. you hide yourself in your room when she has her awful, loud guests over, and you have never once said anything about how she takes her sweet time in the shared bathroom in the morning and makes you late 2 days a week for work.

but this? this?

she needs to keep simon's name out of her fucking mouth.

"excuse me?" you say finally. your roommate is shrugging on her jacket to leave, her purse in her hand as she types on her phone, using it as a way to not make eye-contact with you. her long nails are tapping against the screen, and it feels like fucking drip water torture. "what the fuck did you just say?"

she sighs, irritated, rolling her eyes as she keeps tapping away at the screen.

"you're so dramatic, it was just a fucking joke."

"you know, i let a lot of things slide," you laugh, humorlessly, and you cross your arms over your chest as you follow her into the kitchen. "but you need to be careful what you say."

"i don't do anything except call it like i see it," she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder and looking at herself in the reflection of the mirror hanging on the wall. "you need to just...go out more. man like that isn't gonna stay for long if you don't give him something to go for. he's bored, you know. when you have him over here all the time. and i've totally caught him peeking at me after i shower, y'know."

"well why the fuck are you wearing nothing but a towel when my boyfriend is here, anyways?" you snap. "he's trying to be polite, he's a guest. what if i wore a fucking towel when you had your guy friends over?"

she laughs, poking at the edge of her lip to fix the gloss of her pout. "trust me, honey, no one's looking at you in a towel."

you step back, a little shocked. she rolls her eyes again, sighing.

"i didn't--"

"are you kidding me?" you retort. "you're the worst fucking roommate in the world, and i put up with all your bullshit, and now you're going to go so low as to insult the way i look just to make yourself feel better?" you make your way around the kitchen island. "you don't wash your fucking dishes, you steal my fucking clothes, you're always late on your rent so i have to spot you--"

"you know what, just because i'm fucking happy, and you're not, doesn't mean you have to take it out on me!"

"i am happy, you sorry bitch!" you cry. "i'm so fucking happy, you're the only thing in my life making me constantly miserable!"

"oh, shove it up your ass, you ungrateful little shit!" she snaps. "you're just so fucking insecure and hate me so badly just because simon would rather fuck a girl like me than have to spend another minute with--"

the crack of cast iron against her head shuts her up. it dents the side of her head easily, and her face smacks against the countertop before she crumples to the floor.

it's so fast. one minute, she's yapping, high-pitched voice straining your ears. the next, she's silent.

and she won't say simon's fucking name again.

you watch with bated breath as she folds into herself, her head hitting the hardwood last, a slow puddle of blood beginning to grow under the tendrils of her hair as your eyes move to the heavy pan you're still holding in your hands.

fuck, that's a lot of blood. god, you thought she was just full of fucking air.

you drop the pan once the rush of anger leaves your chest. it thunks onto the ground, and your hands shake as you see the specks of blood that are on the back of your hands, sprinkled over the shirt you wear. it stains your bare legs, even your toes, and you don't even want to look at the spray of it along the counters.

you should be crying, you think. you should feel bad. you're trembling a little, but you think it's just the adrenaline beginning to fade and not the guilt you know is supposed to be racking your insides.

you turn your eyes back to her. her eyes are dull. she doesn't move. it's so quiet now, utterly silent, and you take a deep breath as you take in the silence that you've craved for a long while now. you make your way quietly out of the kitchen, stepping over her body before going for your phone that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you keep your eyes on her as you put your phone to your ear. it rings, and you tilt your head to the side as the blood begins to spiderweb under the kitchen table.

"'ello?"

you blink, looking towards the door. you clutch your phone a little tighter to your ear.

"simon?" you say softly. "a-are...are you busy?"

he hums lowly, chuckling, "no' at the moment, swee'eart, why?" he asks. "mmm...missed y'r voice..." you close your eyes as you hear the buckle of his belt. you try not to picture your giant of a boyfriend leaning back on his worn couch and shoving his jeans low enough to fuck his fist. "tolk t'me, luv...tell me 'ow much ya miss daddy."

you clear your throat gently, willing yourself to ignore the soft squelch of what you know is his hand around his cock, to not let it distract you from what's more important. "uhm...i liked the flowers you gave me, simon. t-they were beautiful."

the sounds on the other end of the phone quiet. you hear shuffling, and then a few moments later, the clink of his car keys.

"tha' right, baby?" he asks, and you close your eyes as you hear the front door of his flat opening. he's already on the way, already coming.

"yeah," you sniffle. "really nice sunflowers."

a yellow flower. he huffs on the other end of the phone, breathing a little easier.

"good girl," he murmurs, and then the line cuts. you set the phone down, making your way back to the kitchen and taking a seat at the table. you watch as the blood continues to curl over the floor. you make no attempt to help her; you just swing your feet under you as you look at her spoiled outfit, just grateful she isn't wearing your shoes or one of your jackets. you would hate to have to throw something out that she got all dirty.

there's a curt knock at the door ten minutes later, and then it opens. simon shuts the door behind him, cracking his neck by moving it from side to side before narrowing his eyes at you. you bite your lip, blinking, forgetting suddenly why he is here when he looks so fucking good. he's got a sweatshirt on under his windbreaker, worn jeans tucked into his boots; you like these jeans, his ass looks incredible in them.

"wot happened?" he asks. you stand, remembering your place. your lip starts trembling, and simon's eyes soften just a little. he's wearing his balaclava, hood up over his head and jacket zipped up, shadowing any true expression on his face. his gait sounds heavy as he lets his hands out of his pockets, coming towards you. when he steps into the kitchen, his eyes dart towards your roommate who's still on the floor, laid out unnaturally just by the oven.

he lets out a low breath, clicking his tongue under the mask. you hold your breath as you wait for his reaction.

"bloody hell," simon mutters, reaching up and throwing his hood off. you wring your hands together nervously, your eyes beginning to sting with tears. you brace for the accusations, for the inevitable terror of facing the music. simon is military, for fuck's sake, why the fuck did you think turning to him would be a good idea?

"i...i-i--" you start, looking up at him, and he holds up a hand, taking the side of your face into his palm before smoothing a gloved thumb over your bottom lip. you blink in confusion, not understanding.

"'s olright, baby," he shushes you, shaking his head. "don't cry."

"simon, i--" you sputter a little, gripping his wrist gently. "i just--i couldn't do it anymore, she just--"

he pities you. maybe you can explain. maybe if you tell him a warped story of what happened, he can help you. he must know someone. he must have important friends, he must--

he uses his free hand to move his mask up over his nose, and you lean into him when he bends, kissing you warmly. your eyes flutter shut, and you shuffle closer as he kisses you sloppy, kisses you hot. you mewl as he slips his tongue into your mouth, licking over your teeth and humming low as he pulls away. his eyes are flashing.

mmm. love.

"hmm..." simon licks his lips, smiling a little. he looks over you, almost pensive, his eyes scanning over your face before he settles back on your eyes. it's tender, the way he looks at you. romantic. "let's get this off of ya."

he reaches for the large shirt you are wearing, pulling it up and over your head. he crumples it into a ball before tossing it on top of your roommate, nodding his head behind you.

it's then that you realize simon isn't going to do the noble thing. he isn't going to call the police. he isn't going to turn you in, make you explain, he seems uninterested in knowing what really happened. no, he already knows what happened. but that's not important.

his pretty, perfect girl got into a little trouble. and he's going to make this go away.

"go on, luv. take a nice shower, yeah?" simon turns you around and pushes on your back gently. you suck in a shaky breath when he fondles your ass, pulling on your panties gently. "mmm...take these off, too."

you slip your panties down your legs, handing them to him.

"they have blood on them, too?" you ask, wiping your face, and he chuckles lowly.

"nah," he shrugs, stuffing them into his back pocket after taking a little sniff. "these are just for me."

jesus fucking christ, there's really something wrong with him. there's something really, really wrong with him.

and something wrong with me.

simon looks you up and down, his eyes catching on your naked body for just a few moments before he nods his head again.

"go on," he tells you. "before i get distracted." you pause for a moment, tilting your head back a little as he reaches out and cups one of your breasts in his big hand. you bite your lip, swallowing back a heavy breath as he flicks his thumb over your nipple gently. "greatest tits 've ever seen," he mumbles, scrunching his nose under the mask before he lets you go. "yeah, go on, baby." it takes everything in you to walk away when you see him reach down with that same hand and grip his bulge through his jeans, adjusting himself as he turns back to the mess in the kitchen.

when you shut the bathroom door behind you, you hear shuffling in the living room. the coffee table scraping. the couch being pushed. the rustle of the rug you have there. he grunts a little, and you hear his boots track from the kitchen back to the living room.

you turn the water on hot. you decide to take a bath, not looking at yourself in the mirror as you sink into the tub and plug the drain. you make the water scalding, and it soothes your sore muscles as you rest your cheek against the edge of the tub and stare at the door.

you're not sure how long you stay there. long enough for the water to nearly slosh over the edge of the tub and for simon to swing the bathroom door open, seemingly done with his...tasks.

he's taken his sweatshirt off. just a black t-shirt tucked into jeans, and there's a slight pant to his breaths that tell you he's exerted some energy. you notice he has his gloves still on, but before he touches you, he takes them off and tosses them into the sink.

"move over," simon mutters, starting to undress. you look up at him as he undoes the button on his pants, shucking his shirt off and into the corner before dropping his jeans. the water swishes as you sit up, and you swallow hard when simon kicks his boots and pants off, his cock hanging heavy as his mask is the last to hit the floor.

fuck, he's so pretty.

he has no regard for his size. he simply steps into the tub behind you, taking a seat. he looks comically large in your small bathtub, and you squeak a little as the water spills over the edge of the bath and wets the floor. he hums as he feels the hot water on his back. you don't say anything as his hands start to turn the water a little red. you just look up, away, at him.

you shuffle between his legs, tucking yourself into his space. you can't help but look him up and down, admiring his naked physique. he's just hot. big arms, thick thighs, sunburnt tattoos and scars cutting across his face. he hasn't shaved today, so there's some stubble along his jaw, but your eyes focus a little too much on his girthy length, heavy as it sits on his stomach and leaks a little there. his fat stomach, all solid and pudgy, such a nice place for you to rest your hands.

"you did good today," simon says finally. you look at him, and he tilts his head to the side. his approval makes your chest warm. "callin' me like tha'. wot a good girl you are."

keeping quiet on the phone is what he doesn't add out loud.

you purse your lips, trying not to keen at the praise, but it's hard not to when he reaches over and slides his hand over your shoulder, thumbing at your jaw.

"i-i didn't...didn't know what to do," you admit, and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head. you didn't know what to do, so you called him. level-headed enough to not do something rash and call someone else, no, you called him.

"mmm...tha's wot i'm 'ere for, luv," simon soothes you. "made such a little mess..."

you close your eyes. it's sick. deranged. fuck, it feels nice.

why don't i feel anything?

"i know. i'm sorry."

"nothin' ta be sorry about."

you slump into his arms, resting your cheek on his solid chest. you can feel his cock pulsing against your tummy, and you adjust yourself in the water, straddling him as you rest your chin on his pecs and look up at him through watery eyes.

you aren't sad. no. not sad at all. simon has shown you what he will do for the you. the lengths he will go. what he'll forgive just to take care of you. he's so capable, so understanding.

sick. twisted. mine.

"then i'll just say thank you," you mumble, grinding your hips slowly. simon hums, a wicked smile coming over his scarred face. he licks over his bottom lip, big hands gripping you by the fat of your hips as you grip the edges of the tub for stability. "say thank you to my big, strong man for taking such good care of me..."

he chuckles, his eyes lowering, watching your tits sway as you fit your pussy over his length and grind down on him.

"tha' so, baby?"

you nod.

"mhm," you whine. "how can i thank you, my big boy? how can i show you how grateful i am for cleaning up after me, hmm?" you bend at the waist, kissing him wet and warm, and he hisses as you suck his tongue into your mouth. he tastes like cigarettes, and normally you would curse him for it, but right now it tastes so much like him, and you lick around his teeth trying to taste more of that sweet nicotine.

"fuck--such a naughty little girl..." he snickers, reaching down. you sigh when he slides his big palms over your ass, forcing you to grind slower, the tip of his cock sliding through your folds leisurely. you grip the edges of the tub tighter, pressing down to give you more leverage to grind down harder. "make such a mess, oll the time..." you gasp when he presses into you just enough, the tip breaching your entrance and forcing you to squeeze around him, your cunt trying to suck him in. "olways needin' me ta pick up afta ya..."

you giggle, sliding your hands up his chest, gripping his shoulders for leverage as you sink down onto him. he grits his teeth as you do, his eyes focused on the way his cock disappears inch by inch until you're seated down in his lap, his length kissing deep and twitching excitedly. he always feels like a teenager again whenever you fuck--like you're the first pretty girl to ever wet his cock.

you cup his cheeks finally, smoothing your thumbs under his eyes as you bring his gaze up to meet yours. you swallow hard, looking down at him.

"i-i love you, simon," you breathe. he stills underneath you, his jaw clenching as he frowns just a little. you come a little closer, nuzzling your nose against his, your thumb falling to trace the outline of his torn lip. "i should've said it a long time ago...i-i..."

"heart's beatin' out y'r chest, luv," he mutters lowly. "'s olright...'m not goin' anywhere."

it's so disgusting. you should be fucking ill. you should be scrambling to the toilet, your breakfast halfway up your throat. you should be crying, emotional, begging simon to tell the cops that it was all your fault, because it is. he should've come here and made you do the level-headed thing and confess your terrible crime.

he shouldn't be here, sitting underneath you in your tub, cock-deep inside of you after helping you commit murder and then fucking clean it all up.

"what did i do?" you gasp, sitting up. you move to get out of the tub, but simon growls, putting two firm hands on your ass and shoving you back down on his cock, making you cry. "w-what did i do? s-simon, why don't i feel bad, why am i not sorry--?!"

simon tsks, feigning comfort. he juts his bottom lip out into a pout, mocking your little cries.

"oh, luvvie, don't start cryin' now," he chuckles. "don't start pretending like y'care."

uhm...

"simon--"

"no one likes a liar."

you're still trying to pretend, and he knows this. you're still trying to act how someone normally would react. someone normal, someone who thinks rationally, would never have picked up the pan in the first place. and even if they had, they would've scrambled, cried, picked up the phone and confessed, called an ambulance as they tried to get her to start breathing again, put both hands on her chest and tried to get her wake up.

but you didn't. you watched, unnervingly calm, as she stained the hardwood with her blood. you watched as her eyes glassed over, lifeless, and you watched as her insides began to paint the floor in abstract shapes as you gave it time to spread. and not once during that time, or waiting for simon, did you think to help her.

you didn't want to help her. and you certainly didn't think she deserved to get back up. maybe she hadn't done anything quite harsh enough to deserve death in someone else's eyes. annoying, overbearing, rude.

but it's hard to feel bad when she talked about simon. when she called him by his name. when you've seen her let her towel slip when he's in her vicinity, trying to coax him into her room when you're looking away.

you should've taken one of the throwing knives that simon hides in his boot and thrown it at her then, just for that.

"we're cut from the same bloody cloth, baby," simon says, almost accusingly. you grip the edges of the tub, trying to stand again, but he cants his hips and fucks up into you, drawing a frenzied moan out of you. you reach for his shoulders as he does it again, his tongue darting out before he licks a fat stripe over your pebbled nipple. "'s olright. 's okay, luv. don't worry. don't hafta get y'r hands dirty, swee'eart, i've got it."

"but simon," you whine, but all he does is shake his head. you don't have to put on this morality act for him. you don't have to pretend that you are sorry for something that you had every right to do, you don't have to explain to him why you aren't feeling the way you should be feeling.

simon doesn't care about how you should feel. he only cares about how you actually feel.

"she was in y'r way," simon grunts. "always bein' a bloody brat." he fists your hair and brings your mouth to his, groaning as you tighten around his cock. "'ow many times did she fuck ya over, baby, hmm? 'ow many times did she steal y'r fuckin' things, come outta the loo wearin' nothin' but her fuckin' knickers, yeah? 'ow many times?"

you kiss him, frantic, digging your nails into his pecs and dragging them angrily.

yeah. fuck her. fuck what she did to me, fuck the way she behaved, fuck her stupid face and her stupid attitude and her stupid little games.

"called ya names..." he's hitting your sweet spot now, making you cry from pleasure. your pussy feels so hot, squeezing him because you know he's right, and the way he fucks this time makes you think he really knows what you are and knows exactly how to get you there. "wot a fuckin' twat. deserved every bit o' it, baby."

you meet his eyes, dark and cruel. he's still moving, still holding onto your hips and drawing out little whines, but it's different suddenly, it's more. you nod, understanding.

simon is terrible. no good. his head isn't in the right place, maybe it never has been. you wonder, briefly, if this is what he does when he's at work, if these are the things that he's used to. maybe simon has been in service too long--maybe he doesn't understand that you aren't at war here, that you can't just kill and clean up, that you aren't in the field.

"she deserved it," you whimper, and he grins, all teeth, all mean.

"tha's it."

"she was such a bitch."

"fuckin' right."

"she got what was coming for her."

"nnghhh--fuck, baby, gonna make me fuckin' cum, tolkin' like tha'," he hisses. you practically smack him as you grab onto his scarred face, gritting your teeth as you glare down at him. his lips part, and you spit in his mouth as he fucks up into you, thighs hitting your ass with a wet smack that makes your head spin.

"and i'll get rid of the next bitch that so much as looks your way, simon."

the kiss is searing. hot, blinding, white noise fills your ears as he cums with you, stuffing you full as he cums hard, a pained groan leaving him as he collapses against the porcelain tub with a harsh thud. you follow him, chasing after him, kissing him between heavy breaths as you don't make any effort to move off of him. when simon opens his eyes, he can't help but smile.

he's never seen his reflection without a mirror.

#awwwwwwwwww thanks for taking care of me pookie #thanks for indulging my terrible mind and telling me its okay ;)#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon thoughts #dark!ghost #dark!simon

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lavenderspence · 3 months

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Bump Relief - S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Making you comfortable while you're pregnant is his number one priority, so he decides to give JJ's little trick a try

Request: maybe Spencer hearing from JJ or reading somewhere that holding the baby bump relieves the mother and decides to try it on his girlfriend/wife?

A/N: So a few days ago, I asked for short requests because I was dying to write something short. I sat down to write, and it got a little longer than I anticipated(I have no excuse). It's a known fact I can't write anything short, so I don't know why I try. I was going to post this tomorrow, but I really needed the serotonin I get from posting a fic, so enjoy!

Requests are open for both Spencer & Hotch🫶

Spencer was twirling a pen between his fingers, deep in thought. All of his thoughts were about you because of course they were.

He thought about you while he fell in love, proposed, and watched you walk down the aisle towards him. You occupied every waking moment when he wasn’t focused on his work, friends and mother, or hobbies. You were a constant in his life, and have been for years.

But he’d been thinking about you a lot more in the last 6 months, and especially the last few days. About you, and the little angel.

At 34 weeks pregnant, you were glowing from the inside, just as beautiful as you’d been in your wedding dress. Or that’s what Spencer saw when he looked at you.

But along with all the beauty of growing your little one came the few negatives, some of which he couldn’t help but notice too. How you hadn’t been wearing your wedding rings since the start of your third trimester.

Or the light sheen of sweat on your brow just going up the stairs to your apartment. Or even the discomfort at the small of your back from carrying all the weight around. The small winces he heard coming from you, along with the scrunch in your eyes and nose.

He wanted to take a part of your discomfort and bear it as his own. He’d watched you grow this little bean inside you for months, fight the morning sickness, and the only thing he’d been able to do was hold your hair and rub your back, watching as you suffered through it.

Or the changes in your body, your clothes not fitting, or sometimes feeling like an outsider in your own skin. He’d been able to offer reassuring words, and kisses laid across your whole body, any point that sparked an insecurity in you - worshiped.

He’d wake up in the middle of the night to satisfy your weird food cravings, or even the desire to have him as a snack.

He’d been to every appointment with you - held your hand, wiped your tears, or kissed the crown of your head. You’d heard the heartbeat together, where he’d spoken in your ear, thankful to you for giving him the greatest gift of all to come in a few short months - being a dad. Something he’d wished for, for years, sometimes even thinking he’d never get to experience it.

But that’s as far as he could help you and god, he wished he could do more.

He didn’t hear JJ approaching and wasn’t even paying attention when she called his name out softly. And then again, and again.

Snapping her fingers in front of his face worked like a charm though.

“Yes?” He asked, after a light shake of his head to clear his thoughts.

“Where’d you go Spence?” She leaned against his desk, giving his shoulder a small squeeze in support, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s good,” He didn’t look or sound convincing, and watching JJ’s brow arch in question, he sighed, “Well, okay, not everything.”

“What’s going on? Are Y/N and the baby okay?” She asked a frantic worry in her voice.

“They’re good and healthy,” Spencer confirmed, watching her let a sigh of her own. He decided then and there to seek her advice. She was his friend, and seeing as she’d been a mom twice now, she knew exactly what you were going through.

“She’s been feeling uncomfortable, carrying the weight of the little bean around,” He smiled, simply mentioning his child softened everything within him, “And I see her trying not to show it that much, but it’s clearly exhausting her even more, and I wish there was something I could do to help, you know?” He sounded so small at that moment, rubbing his wedding band, feeling like he was failing you somehow.

He knew that wasn’t possible, you told him daily how proud you were of him and everything he did and has done for you, but even now, he couldn’t help but worry sometimes.

“Well, there’s this one thing that worked wonders for me when I was pregnant with Henry, and Michael too.” She started before she shared her little secret.

You breathed in deep, moving around yet again, and then exhaled a long breath.

Your couch was one of the most comfortable things in the apartment - at least it had been before you’d started popping. Now it felt more like the most uncomfortable piece of furniture ever, but you knew that was just your inability to get comfortable - well, anywhere really.

It was a struggle finding a way to feel good, but not like your baby was sitting on your bladder, or putting more pressure on your back than needed. You had roughly 6 more weeks to go, but you already felt about ready to pop.

Your bean was grown in size - with a tall daddy like your husband, you weren’t even that surprised. You somehow knew that they’d take even more than his height - you hoped they’d inherit his best characteristics too. His love for learning, his calmness, and most of all his heart. Maybe his hair too - you loved his hair. And his smile. God you simply loved him.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home - the only time you felt like your whole body could relax was whenever he was with you, one hand or both thrown over your bump in a protective manner, talking to you and your baby quietly.

You tried a few more times to get comfortable, a few different positions - leaning on your left, your right, or even with your back straight, and nothing worked.

Another deep exhale left you and you simply gave up - lying on your back and praying for no uncomfortable sensations for at least a few minutes.

Just as you felt your eyes droop - you wanted a few minutes to simply breathe - you felt a little kick to your left. It didn’t hurt, luckily for you, your little one seemed to be a pretty calm, small bundle so it wasn’t often any cry for attention left you rattled.

You did let out a little chuckle, rubbing the spot. As you rubbed at your stomach, small kick after small kick under your hand, you heard a key being inserted into the lock - the door opening and closing, keys rattling on the key hanger next to the door.

“Sweetheart? Where are my girls?” He asked, as you heard the familiar sounds of him hanging his jacket and satchel, and taking off his shoes. You’d decided the gender would be a surprise, but Spencer insisted that it was a girl - you had a feeling he wanted to be a girl dad.

You raised a hand, waving in the direction of the door, not wishing to move now, “We’re here, love.”

You didn’t attempt to push yourself up, you just stayed where you were, rubbing your belly and waiting for your husband to make his way over.

Sure enough, just a few seconds later he was kneeling next to the couch close to your head, moving pieces of hair away from your face.

“Hi.” He whispered before he leaned down and laid a series of small kisses all over your face - one on each cheek, one on your forehead and nose, finishing with a gentle press of his lips against yours. It still made a small shiver run through you, just like it always did.

“Hi.” You returned when he pulled away, watching him as he leaned towards your belly then, kissing just next to where your hands were still sitting. A kick followed his kiss like your baby knew it was his daddy having returned from work.

“Hi, little love.” It was his little nickname for them, and you loved it. You ran a hand through his hair then, soft and thick to the touch.

With his hand sitting next to yours, wedding band gleaming in the light, he pulled you into another small kiss. His face was inches away from yours.

“Can you stand up for a second, love?” He was whispering, content in keeping you three in a small bubble of touch and soft words.

“Why?” It sounded like a whine, but in your defense, everything felt more comfortable than before now that he was there.

His eyes softened then, understanding written all over his face, and a small smile on his slightly chapped lips too.

“Just want to try something JJ suggested. Please? It’s going to feel good, I promise.” He kissed your brown in reassurance, and promise.

You sighed again, allowing him to pull you up.

“If I hate this, you have to go get me those super sour lemon candies from the candy store on the other side of town, okay?” You bargained with him. You’ve been craving those since last night, but he’d been going out on a limp for your every whim and you wanted to cool it for a day or two and allow him some time to breathe.

He smiled softly, hand on your lower back, moving up and down.

“Okay, sour lemon candy it is.”

“What are we doing again?”

“Okay, I’m going to settle behind you, and I want you to lean your upper body against me, lay your head on my shoulder,” He instructed, moving behind you, hands on your hips just like he’d told you to do. His scent filled your nostrils, and you moved your head to the side to nuzzle his neck. He kissed your head, “Okay, now relax, and let me do all the work, yeah?” Again, soft, in a whisper.

“What work -” You started before you felt his hands settle underneath your bump, holding onto it, and allowing the weight to fall on his hands instead of falling on you. You felt light like you were no longer carrying your little bean, but instead, it was safely nestled into his father’s arms. A half sigh-half moan left you, so relieved, thankful in that moment, to JJ and to your husband.

“Good?” He asked. Tears gathered in your eyes, so overwhelmed by the reprieve. You nodded, just a tiny bit choked up at that moment.

“So, so good. Thank you.” You said, one hand moving to cup gently around his, face once again burying into his neck. You couldn’t believe the universe had granted you this man to be by your side for years to come. This dedicated, adorable, kindhearted man, and all his care.

He rubbed his thumb against your bump, feeling your little girl kick against him, and he kissed your hair, holding you both, doing his very best to help in any way he could. Just like he always would.

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid fluff #reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid

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luveline · 11 months

Note

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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anotherlongstoryshort · 27 days

Text

Things about the Wisdom Saga that have plagued me all damn day

Legendary

Whether intentional or not, Miguel's Telemachus really sounds like a younger version of Jorge's Odysseus. And that hurts.

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?" The layers. Could he go out and hunt for his father? Could he find his 'legendary' strength within himself? Or will Odysseus be the 'monster' he finds?

"Somebody help me, come and give me the strength" And his call is answered T_T

20 years.

Antinous fully interrupts this bop. Rude.

Ayron sounds legitimately scary and Telemachus taking a stand is so O.O

Little Wolf

I wanna fight this guy. Love that Athena agrees. (The beat of the song and sharp bursts of vocals really emulate blows.)

The quaver on "I don't know how".

Athena is immediately charmed by Telemachus' enthusiasm. She sounds so fond.

The fact she sees heart in him as an advantage when it was Odysseus choosing heart over mind that drove them apart. Guh.

Did she tell him to bite Antinous? XD

"Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard." The change in her perspective is already so apparent - she wouldn't have admitted a mistake or miscalculation to Odysseus.

We'll Be Fine

"I had a friend before..." A FRIEND? FRIEND?!?!

An admission that she didn't fully appreciate what Odysseus was going through, that she feels guilty for having "missed it all".

It's unclear to begin with if she's come to Telemachus for Odysseus, or to try and replace him. Both are equally heart-breaking.

"I don't know who your friend is, I don't know what he's like" UNKNOWINGLY ECHOING HIS OWN THOUGHTS IN 'LEGENDARY'. NO IT'S FINE I'M FINE.

"The best day of my life because I got in a fight and I didn't die! :D" Telemachus, child, please.

"We'll be fine" using the same run as "this is my goodbye" T_T

Him immediately offering up friendship to Athena, like Odysseus once did, must hit her so hard. "You're a good kid." Yes he is - because he's more like his dad than he knows.

Love in Paradise

"Old friend..." FRRRRRIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDDD!!!!!

10 years.

The memory fragments sounding so fraught and chaotic together, hitting harder because they're hitting Athena all at once. She missed a lot.

"She's my wife." "Anyways..." Calypso, girl, please.

Love that they're singing completely different melodies through the first half of this song for two reasons: because Odysseus is revisiting previous motifs, once more trying to hold onto the man he was, and also because it shows Calypso is not willing to compromise on what she wants.

"Last I checked goddesses can't die." We'll come back to this later.

Then Odysseus realises he is truly trapped and he sings along to Calypso's melody in muted horror.

POLITIES OUT HERE STILL HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE.

Just the words "open arms" are enough to confront Odysseus (again) with all he's lost. All he hears are screams.

And the one he screams out for is Athena.

"He needs my help." NO KIDDING GO GET YOUR BOY.

God Games

"Father, God, King..." There's a lot to unpack in that fun family dynamic.

"To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?" Zeus is like, nobody likes that guy, why do you care?

The gods being called out like X Factor finalists is everything.

So there's a great contrast against the previous song - unlike Calypso, Athena is matching each of her singing partners with their tone and beat as she convinces them. She isn't winning by 'imposing her will', she's meeting them where they are.

Rational arguments work until Aphrodite, where Athena says "please" for the first time. She softens to appeal to Aphrodite, which is why Ares has to step in.

The way she says his name XD

Ares' lines sound like as much of a fighting chant as 'Little Wolf' did, which makes it all the better that the mention of Telemachus is what gets her to 'fight back'.

"His son's my friend!" YES HE IS. And Athena of all people declaring "a broken heart can mend" is fascinating. Can't help but wonder if she's talking about herself coming around to forgiving Odysseus.

"Never once has he cheated on his wife." Handwaving the source material is worth it for this line ALONE.

Zeus is so pressed by everyone openly knowing he cheats on Hera. Stop doing it then my dude.

Ares sounding genuinely concerned for Athena is doing things to me. Goddesses can't die, huh?

Her time motif flitting in and out like a weak heartbeat.

The soft piano of 'Warrior of the Mind', touching on a whisper of 'Legendary', then rising to a triumphant crescendo as Athena regains herself. I will be forever haunted by visions of Odysseus and Telemachus helping her to her feet.

And then, finally, she faces her own father and begs. Because Odysseus and Telemachus deserve a chance to be father and child.

The parallel, by the way, of Athena entering this saga to help an outnumbered Telemachus, and now closing it with him/Odysseus unknowingly helping her win her own battle too. JORGE HOW DARE YOU T_T

#athena is my fav can you tell #I haven't seen any animatics don't come for me #epic the musical #the wisdom saga #athena #telemachus #odysseus #jorge rivera herrans

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astonmartinii · 1 month

Text

false start | lewis hamilton social media au

pairing: lewis hamilton x fem swimmer reader

some people are getting a bit too ahead of themselves

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

.・゜゜・ part of the aston martini summer olympics ・゜゜・．

espn

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lillyking and 509,455 others

tagged: yourusername & lewishamilton

espn: the 2024 paris olympics kick off tomorrow and we'll be keeping a close eye on the pool. and despite being one of the biggest names in the sport and the fiance of seven-time f1 world champion lewis hamilton, we don't predict to see y/n y/ln on the podium this summer.

view all comments

user1: when will y'all learn?

user2: i swear they did this back in 2021, saying she wasn't good enough any more and then BAM she won double gold and they were suspiciously quiet after

user3: i hope she dunks on their heads again

charles_leclerc: STOP UNDERRATING HER I SWEAR TO FUCK

user4: bro hasn't even started as lewis' teammate and he's already ready to throw down for y/n

charles_leclerc: i have been a fan of the queen since before i even started in f1 - no one disrespects her in front of me

user5: espn better be shaking in their boots after that

lewishamilton: 😐

user6: the king has spoken

user7: it's an emoji babe

user8: real lewis fans know that this is worth a thousand words

user9: the picture with the double gold is going to hit like crack i fear

user10: best believe i know that they'll tag espn just to be messy

user11: i'm sat. i'm so sat. the cinema workers have told me she doesn't compete for a couple days but i'm simply so sat

yourusername: ⏳

user12: OKAY SLAY

user13: i need these golds like i need air

user14: okay queen i need you to run back the celebration from last olympics

user15: time to become an honourary aussie for a couple weeks to support y/n

user16: LET'S FUCKING GO KANGAROOS

user17: run me my passport australia

user18: when will lewis get his australian citizenship

lewishamilton

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 1,459,833 others

tagged: yourusername

lewishamilton: go get em'

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user22: gIVE ME ONE CHANCE PLEASE GOD PLEASE

user23: sorry to everyone else at the games, but the hottest couple has arrived

user24: tiktok girls PSA: if i don't have ten alchemy edits of them on my desk by tomorrow morning THERE WILL BE ISSUES

yourusername: for you sir, anything

yourusername: ugh your ✨ title ✨ is so hot

lewishamilton: let's win and then put it to good use 😉

landnorris: do you people mind?

yourusername: why are you always in our business? don't you have your own little guppy to follow around in paris?

lewishamilton: he's just lonely? or not? i can't keep up with his relationship drama

landonorris: EXCUSE ME?

yourusername: you're excused? we've been together for like eight years we aren't used to whatever drama you've gotten yourself into

lewishamilton: eight years, six months and 237 days :P

user25: first espn and now lando? they're not holding back this summer

user26: fucking around and finding out is what summer 2024 is all about

georgerussell63: good luck y/n !!!

yourusername: thank you georgie :)

georgerussell63: and i checked, i don't think there's any gb swimmers in your events (other than the relays) so you'll have my full support

yourusername: thanks?

lewishamilton: he's a little confused but he's got the spirit

user27: i need y/n to win and come to the paddock with her medal for zandvoort

user28: i am seeing it and i need it to happen

olympics

liked by lewishamilton, pierregasly and 893,209 others

tagged: yourusername

olympics: never in doubt, y/n y/ln takes gold in the 100m backstroke final!

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user29: RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

user30: suck on that espn

user31: espn admin come outside rn please i jUST WANNA TALK

lewishamilton: @espn KEEP MY (soon to be) WIFE'S NAME OUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH

yourusername: that was so hot

lewishamilton: you wiping the floor with the whole pool was so hot

lewishamilton: but then again you're hot doing literally anything

yourusername: says you mr model

lewishamilton: i got a few things i wanna model for you ...

yourusername: is it my gold medal and nothing else ?

lewishamilton: how did you know ???

user32: so winning a gold medal really does make you horny on main

user33: some of us lived through them with no PR managers, this is tame

user34: they're one couple where it really wouldn't surprise me if something got leaked

yourusername: can confirm it tastes as sweet as it did in tokyo

oscarpiastri: could you hear me cheering? i was so loud :)

yourusername: funnily enough, no

oscarpiastri: oh :(

yourusername: but i felt it in my spirit!

oscarpiastri: good :) because i think i have slightly deafened your husband 🤷‍♂️

lewishamilton: my ears are still ringing but i'll take it because you were supporting y/n

yourusername: awwww you cuties

user35: yall saying that kimi antonelli is lewis' grid kid but it's clearly oscar

user36: if i watched lewis put yellow and green glitter on oscar's face on live tv it's not a conversation to start with

yourusername

liked by georgerussell63, jensonbutton and 1,459,783 others

tagged: olympics & lewishamilton

yourusername: gold in both 100m and 200m backstroke is more than i could've ever dreamed coming into these games, thank you to my family, friends and wonderful fiance for their support. and to the others, you know who you are, be careful on all those false starts you keep making ;)

view all comments

user38: where are you ? LET'S BE HAVING YOU !!!

user39: her winning the golds regardless isn't enough i need a gun

espn: ... i'm sorry?

lewishamilton: YOU SHOULD BE

espn: sir, i am just an intern who posts what i am given

yourusername: well now you're making me feel bad

espn: i can give you my boss' email?

lewishamilton: YES PLEASE LET ME AT EM

user40: bullying works?

lewishamilton: i'm so so so so so so proud and so so so glad that everything lined up for me to be there and witness your excellence in person 🙇🏾

yourusername: i love you so much and couldn't have done it without you, all those facetime dates and missed anniversaries are worth it in the end

yourusername: although i am looking forward to following you around the world again for a bit

user41: thank fuck you're not retiring ????

yourusername: who said that ??? @espn was it you again??

espn: not this time i swear!

yourusername: i can confirm that i am not retiring, us terrorising all the youngsters in our sport is kind of our whole bit

lewishamilton: although some people could learn to walk away - cough @fernandoalo_oficial

yourusername: really?

lewishamilton: beef waits for no one

fernandoalo_oficial: well i personally was cheering on y/n, you can choke

user42: how does y/n look so good even after racing?

yourusername: getting laid well and often 👍🏼

lewishamilton: you're welcome

yourusername: i love you 🥰

lewishamilton: i love you more

fin.

note: hope you guys enjoyed!! swimming is always my favourite olympic sport (i also swam for ten years so that's probably why lol)

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 instagram au #f1 x you #f1 #f1 social media au #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton social media au #lewis hamilton fanfic

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auroralwriting · 2 months

Text

poker face

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

spencer and you go to the casino to find the unsub. you think he looks pretty hot playing poker.

word count: 2.0k

warnings: making out, gambling, poker face spencer aghhh

"Forensics got a fingerprint match on the last victim. Eddie Langdon. We're looking into him." You said as you walked back into the office that held some of your team members.

Hotch came in behind you, "Hey, any luck?" Emily asked.

"No, they don't want to allocate agency funds for the buy-in. I'm still working on it." Hotch replied, looking down to his phone as he got back on another call.

Rossi chuckled, "Well, I can't imagine why not. We're only asking for fifty thousand bucks of taxpayer money so that FBI agents can play Texas hold 'em."

Emily eyed Rossi, "Hey, what about you?"

"What about me? What?"

"You could stake us the buy-in." Emily smirked.

Spencer sat down next to you, "Yeah, you're a best-selling author."

You nodded enthusiastically, "Don't forget a best-selling author and longtime FBI agent. You could loan us the money, or something."

"No," Rossi shook his head.

"Why not?" Emily frowned.

"One, it's against regulations, and I'd like to hold on to this job for a little while longer." Rossi began.

Under your breath, you muttered, "It's just a little violation, 's all."

Rossi just rolled his eyes at your comment. "And two, I prefer to spend my money on actual things, like single-malt scotch, a fine cigar, beautiful artwork."

"Poker chips are things!" JJ replied quickly with a smile.

Rossi just scoffed as Spencer spoke up again. "Maybe just think of it as like a new experience. I mean, at your age, how often does that happen?" Oh, no he didn't.

"At my what?" Rossi slowly turned his head to Spencer who just gulped and awkwardly looked away.

"Rossi, this may be our only chance to get this guy." You said slowly. "They government isn't going to give us the money. You're our only way to catch this killer. Please?" You paused for a moment. "And if it helps, you can just write a new book to get some more cha-ching."

Rossi sighed, "All right, fine. But I'm ignoring that last comment. I'm a decent poker player, but I can't promise that I can stay in the game long enough to--"

"You know what?" Emily interrupted. "I bet you're a great poker player, but what if we sent in Reid?"

"I am banned from casinos in Las Vegas, Laughlin, and Parump because of my card-counting ability." Spencer commented as if it was the most casual thing in the whole world.

You raised your hand slightly, "Why did I not know this sooner?"

"Look, I know I'm not a genius like the boy wonder here, but poker is not Blackjack." Rossi argued. "It's about bluffing, reading human nature, head games. It's not math."

That's when Spencer stood up, "That's not entirely accurate. There actually is a mathematical equation for knowing when to raise and when to fold. If P represents the size of the pot at the time of play, then P times N minus one, with N representing the estimated number of players in the final round of betting--"

"Okay! Fine, I surrender!" Rossi cut Spencer off quickly. "Just try not to lose all my money. Actually, you know what?" Rossi quickly spoke your name. "Take her with you, I don't want you losing all my money and if she needs to interrupt the game, then so be it."

Your eyes widened, "Rossi, I've never stepped foot into a casino in my life."

"You'll be fine!" Rossi waved it off as Spencer gave you a comforting look.

Oh, this was not what you expected at all.

Spencer and you had to get checked by security with the handheld metal detectors. Yours didn't go off, but Spencer's did. He played it off as just a pen. Thank god they accepted that.

The two of you walked in. For someone who stared at dead bodies and killers all day, this was the most nerve wracking thing you'd experienced in a while. It also didn't help that Hotch decided you and Spencer were to play a couple when you had such a big crush on him.

"Hey," Spencer muttered, "It's okay."

"Just nervous," You replied under your breath. The two of you made your way to the bar. Spencer got himself a drink, and you got some champagne. "Is it really just math?"

Spencer nodded, "Math, and a little bit of luck."

The moment you felt Spencer take your hand, you tried to pull away. "Spencer, what about germs--"

"I don't mind your germs, you're my friend. Plus, we have a part to play, remember?" Spencer muttered, locking his fingers between yours. Your heart pounded as you did the same.

"I'll observe as you play," You muttered, remembering the list of things you needed to look for to find the unsub. "I know you don't need it, but good luck."

Spencer smiled at you, the comment being just so sweet and innocent. "Thank you." You looked so nervous, so out of place. It made Spencer notice you more.

Spencer had taken a seat at a table, which you stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder. Your hands rested on the back of the chair. So far, no one caught your eye, until one man at another table did. Casually, you poked Spencer and he caught onto your stare.

"You know, would it be all right if I sat at table two instead of four? I have a pre-glaucoma condition and the light's kind of bothering my eyes." Spencer called over the employee, who took him to the desired table.

The men didn't just eye Spencer as he sat down, you noticed they eyed you too. Defensively, you wrapped your arms around Spencer's neck from behind. "Ah, I'm calling." One of the men said."

"I'll raise." One guy said. You stared at him, noticing his red eyes. Weird. "Eight thousand."

"Eight thousand.. That's, uh, fifty-six months wages for the average person in Bangladesh." Spencer commented casually. In reply, you giggled and played with some of hair, pushing it out of his face. Spencer hoped you didn't feel his face turn hot under your fingers. "Uh, kind of makes you think, doesn't it?"

"Hey, it's eight thou to you." One guy remarked. "Now, are you in or are you out?"

Spencer sighed, "I.. am in. And I raise."

"Three raise? That's too rich for my blood." The guy sighed. One man, the one who raised before Spencer, bored holes into him.

"Are you in, sir?" Spencer asked.

"I'll call."

"Call?"

Spencer flipped his cards, "Straight."

Based on everyone's reactions and Spencer's coy face, straight was a very good thing. Playing the act, you kissed Spencer's forehead and squealed lightly, deciding to stroke his cheek for a moment. "A gut shot straight draw? Are you kidding me?"

"That is just-- that is nuts."

It was no wonder Spencer was banned from casinos. Spencer's poker face was good. He simply just covered his mouth after a moment and stared, watching everyone's reactions. His hand slowly ran down to his chin, and in that moment, it did it for you. Sure, Spencer was your cute little nerd, but he'd never been so hot to you.

You noticed next to the man who was staring, he had an eight ball keychain. "Hey, mind if I look at this?" You asked, reaching for it.

The man was quick to grab your hand hard. Spencer jumped into action, pulling you from him.

"Hey. What's the problem, sir?" An employee asked.

"She's reaching for my chips!"

"I'm not even in the game," You remarked.

The employee grabbed your arms, "You need to come with me."

If Spencer's eyes could've gotten any wider, they would've popped out of his head. "Hey! Don't manhandle her! She can walk, let go!" Spencer ripped the mans arms off of you and pulled you into his chest. "Come on, love. Let's just go."

Spencer's words caused your chest to tingle as he guided you away. You watched as he clicked the call-device, it lit up red. The look on the mans face, your unsub, was clear. He knew.

You met up with the team as you were lead out the doors, "They're FBI agents," Hotch informed the guard.

"There he goes, plaid shirt, baseball hat." Spencer pointed.

After searching the whole casino, the unsub made a break for it. His name was Curtis Banks. You and Spencer were sent to his house to see if he was there. After a quick search, it was clear he wasn't there.

"Hey Hotch, he isn't here. There's a foreclosure sign in the lawn." You informed your chief.

"All right, you and Reid stay there in case he comes back." Hotch hung up the phone.

You shrugged to Spencer, "And we wait."

After a beat of silence, Spencer turned to you. "At the casino, you couldn't keep your hands off of me after I won." Spencer said out of nowhere. "Your physical proximity was close, you frequently stared at me--"

"I was playing my part," You argued.

"Yeah, too well." Spencer pointed out. "Were you checking me out?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, "No. Why would I do that?"

"Look at me and say it," Spencer demanded, but his tone wasn't harsh. It was simply just firm. "You won't look at me."

Slowly, you turned to look at Spencer, "I wasn't checking you out."

"You can't look me in the eyes. You've never not looked me in the eyes." Spencer continued.

"Stop profiling me," You tried to end the discussion. It was clear Spencer had caught you. You weren't interested in being turned down, especially when you were in some sort of steak-out with the genius.

Spencer frowned, "I'm not profiling you. I'm just telling you as it is."

"That's what profiling is," You countered. "We don't need to have this conversation. Was I checking you out? Yes, I was. Is that what you wanted me to say? That you looked so damn hot winning thousands of dollars with your best poker face while you let me all over you?"

Spencer said your name, but you kept rambling. It took him grabbing your chin and forcing your face closer to his to make you stop. "You think I'm hot?"

"Yeah," You stuttered. "Yeah, I do."

Slowly, Spencer trailed his finger over your bottom lip. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

"Where's this confidence coming from?" You asked.

Spencer shrugged, "Gamblers frequently experience a phenomenon called the 'winning high,' it releases dopamine and adrenaline, making gamblers do riskier things than they'd normally do."

"You gonna use that high to kiss me?" Your voice was a mere mutter. Your lips were just grazing Spencers.

"Is that what you want?" Spencer lowly asked.

"What do you think?" You retorted.

Spencer's lips slammed onto your own, harder than you expected. His large hand had the back of your neck, and he pulled you impossibly closer. It was hot, just how you wanted it. Flimsily, Spencer reached to the bottom of his seat to scoot it back. His hands went to your hips, guiding you to move across the seats to his lap.

"You know, we're still on the lookout." You mumbled, pressing another kiss to the genius's lips.

"They haven't called us yet." Spencer challenged, hand running down your back to your waist.

Slowly, Spencer's hand began to creep up your shirt, just to your navel-level. His kisses descended to your neck, pressing opened mouth, warm kisses to your skin.

"Spence," You whined, grabbing his hair to push him closer. He sighed in reply.

You both jolted when your phone began to ring. You grabbed it quickly, "What?"

"Ooh, someone's frisky." Derek teased over the phone. "We got the guy. You two are all good to head back."

"Thanks, Morgan. See you back there." You hung up the phone, tossing it back to to your seat. "Looks like we have to wrap this up."

Spencer smirked, "We fly back in the morning. We'll find some time soon."

Spencer's words weren't a tease, they were a promise.

#doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #bau team #criminal minds fandom #dr reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader

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inkskinned · 11 months

Text

it's hard to explain because inevitably you sound like an asshole, but some people are allowed to lose their temper, lose their mind - you're not, though.

when your friend never texts you first and misses your birthday and never makes an effort; you don't mind. you know she's struggling, and you want her to get the help that she deserves. you give her every excuse and every chance.

it shouldn't matter to you so much that people are always coming through for her. you want her to be happy, you love it for her. you love that her community rises up to the occasion. why does it bother you that when she snaps at someone, says horrible mean things - but two hours later, everyone is comforting her while she's crying. you know she's stressed. why do you kind of hate that she is welcomed back to her job, that her parents are endlessly wiring her money.

and you're - fuck, are you envious?

but when you don't text back, someone sits you down and says i know you're struggling, but you're being a bad friend. when you're too numb to show up for work, your boss just shakes his head. i'm sorry. i can't approve more time off. we have the company to protect. when you finally snap back at your family for making that shitty comment again, you're forced to apologize for being too sensitive.

god forbid you need something. people aren't used to you being the one asking. you're the giver like the book you hated; your pages all open and rumpled. you always have the answer, always have the solution. you are reliable, trustworthy. people like you don't struggle with things. you're supposed to be lifted by tragedy. you are given a maximum of 24 hours to grieve, and then you need to just behave at the party.

you can't read the giving tree without feeling like crying, and even that feels like it's too much emotion. like, nobody looks at you and assumes you're the tree; they'd name five other people before even considering you in the running. you're just there, never-asking.

your friend gets to say mean shit, that's just her personality. when you make a snide comment, you're just being petty. people laugh when your friend stands you up for another event; they say she's just like that. you were 5 minutes late to a meeting with friends and they were mad about it for the rest of the evening. your friend sets everything on fire; everyone applauds her through the ashes. you so much as light a candle: and suddenly now you're an arsonist.

you don't want your friend to suffer, though. the thing is that you just wish that the empathy and kindness your friend gets - you wish you had that option, that everyone offered you grace and money and a gentle reception.

the other day you were fighting down the bad urge; the void call, the end note. you tried-anyway. you went to the family event, tried laughing at the right moments. nodded and smiled and all of it. one of your siblings threw a fit, but she's allowed to, so everyone just rolled their eyes about it. you took 3 whole minutes to stand outside when you got overwhelmed. you literally set a timer about it.

in the morning you woke up to a text from your parents: you were a complete disgrace last night. idk what your attitude problem is, but you really need to fix it.

#writeblr #eldest daughter syndrome #tbh

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thebearer · 5 months

Text

nothing in the world belongs to me |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: still new in your relationship, you show up to the bear for dinner unexpectedly, surprising carmen and the others.

based off this prompt from the other day :)

contains: fluff lol. really, it's just fluff. established-ish relationship (the others don't know). carmen being a little nervous and possessive but mainly cute <3 language.

“Alright, listen up,” Richie stood next to Sydney, flicking through the piles of tickets that were ringing through by the second. It was normal now, an expected task in their routine. “We need to walk the focaccia to table seven, please.”

“Yes, Chef!” A chorus of nearly robotic voices rose from the sizzling hiss of the lamb searing in Carmen’s pan, lifting the spatula to tip the meat over, before giving it back to the chef on the line.

“And for table nine, we’ve got a shellfish allergy, alright? So let’s triple check the cross contamination on that. T, can you handle that one?” Richie moved from his leather bound book of notes back to the ticket.

“Yes, Chef!” Tina chimed, pulling a freshly washed pan, filling it with the veal stock.

“Table nine, is that- that’s the senator?” Carmen turned to Richie, tasting the roux bubbling on Victoria’s station, giving her a curt nod of approval.

“No, that’s table eleven.” Richie hummed, looking back at his notebook. “Nine, is… a birthday. Booked online.” Carmen had already begun to drone him out, mind racing with a million other things as Richie listed the guests name. Until he got to one.

The name Carmen was sure he was hallucinating. The name no one knew- How would they know? How could they possibly know your name?

You and Carmen had been seeing each other for a little while. A few weeks that were slowly turning into months. A casual thing that was slowly turning more serious. Dates and meetups are becoming more frequent. You’d even invited him over to your place a few times, he’d spent the night last week.

Still, Carmen hadn’t managed to tell anyone. Selfishly, he liked that you were all his for now. Privacy was not guaranteed in the Berzatto house, in Carmen’s life still. He knew they meant well, they always did- he knew it wasn’t purposeful, the intrusion that almost always led to a demise. Carmen wasn’t ready for it, not yet, he still wanted you all to himself.

“Carmen?” Sydney’s voice pulled him out of his panicked trance. “Chef, are you- are you good?” Her voice lilted with that familiar suspicious quip, the one always accompanied with her lifted brows.

“What?” Carmen blinked, hands buzzing, heart thumping. He could see the window, Richie’s frame blocking most of it. “Sorry, yeah- yeah, I’m good, Chef.”

Sydney watched him carefully, a slow nod before she continued calling out orders. Carmen could feel Richie’s eyes on him, narrowed with curiosity. Carmen tried to be nonchalant, crossing the kitchen back towards Tina, his eyes cutting carefully, looking out the window.

There you were.

Sitting pretty at the middle table, surrounded by friends, some Carmen recognized from your Instagram. He’d actually logged in to the app, looked you up after the first date, consumed every photo of yours in the dark of his room. Cheeks burning with excited heat, stomach fluttering in a way he hadn’t felt since junior high.

“Alright, walk five salads to nine.” Sydney called out. “Where’s our runners? God, Richie, can you run-”

“-I got it.” Carmen called, the urgency in his tone making Tina jump behind him. Carmen took the tray before Gary could, his hands shaking as he lifted it.

“Cousin, I can get it.” Richie frowned.

“No, I-I got it.” Carmen nodded, swallowing down his fluttering nerves. His eyes cut to your table through the window, heart skipping when he saw you. “I got it. I’ll be- I’ll just be a second.”

“I don’t- I can’t even handle that one right now.” Sydney sighed in exasperation. “Alright, Chefs. Let’s get back on track.” She announced, shaking her head. Richie frowned, pulling out his phone.

Sugar’s cell buzzed against the hostess stand, excusing herself to check it.

From: Richie

‘Look at table nine.’

Sugar huffed.

To: Richie

‘Why? Is there something wrong?’

She stepped back, casually turning to scan the room, eyes landing on the table. A small group of girls, younger, and amongst them- Carmen?

To: Richie

‘Is something wrong with the food? Do I need to comp it?’

From: Richie

‘No. Cousin wanted to go out there.’

Sugar frowned, angling her body behind the large plant near the front as casually as she could. She watched through the leaves as Carmen passed out the salads, each girl grinning widely, but their eyes always cut to one on the end.

Carmen saved your salad for last, hoping the lowlights of the restaurant would hide his boyish blush, setting the bowl in front of you carefully. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You smiled sheepishly, looking to meet his gaze. “Everything looks so good.”

“Yeah? Thanks.” Carmen nodded. “I-I didn’t know you were comin’ tonight.”

“I’m sorry.” You cringed softly, embarrassed heat flooding through your veins. You knew better, knew you shouldn’t have done this- showed up at his restaurant unannounced.

“I, uh, it’s my friend’s birthday.” You nodded towards Alicia at the end of the table. “And I was telling them about that pasta you made me, and they really wanted to come try it.” Your nerves bubbled, rambling in nervous peals that seemed to pour out before you could stop them.

“Yeah, no, that’s really nice. Thank you.” Carmen nodded, giving a half smile to your friends, hoping they didn’t see the way he wiped his clammy hands on his apron. “Why didn’t- Why didn’t you just call me? Tell me you were comin’ in.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” You muttered softly. “I honestly didn’t think you’d even see us here, I swear. I didn’t mean to bother you or anything-”

“-You’re not bothering me.” Carmen’s voice dropped to a coo, accompanied with a soft smile that had your head spinning. “Never a bother, but, uh, next time? Bother me, ok? Wanna make sure you get the best seat in the house.”

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your friends excited giggles only intensifying the rushing heat blanketing over your body. Carmen’s own cheeks heated, tongue rolling on the inside of his cheek to hide his grin.

“Alright?” Carmen added, and in a complete act of shocking boldness, his hand squeezed your shoulder affectionately. A small gesture on the outside, but for Carmen, it was huge.

“Alright.” You grinned, leaning into his touch, your hands sliding over his.

“How’s everything so far?” Carmen turned to the table, nodding at the excited gushes of compliments, not missing the way your friends cut their eyes to you with animated glee.

“Just let me know if you need anything, ok?” Carmen turned to you.

“I will.” You nodded, starry eyed with love sick affection.

“Good. I’ll see you before you leave, alright?” Carmen muttered, ducking down towards you. His lips brushed over your cheek, your perfume clouding his senses. “You’re not botherin’ me. ‘M glad you’re here.”

Your cheek pressed to his, a gentle, affectionate rub before Carmen parted. Both of your features painted with shy delight.

Carmen could feel everyone’s eyes, through flickering gazes and lifted brows. Sydney’s gaze lingering over him skeptically, still counting tickets. Fak’s wide grin from the corner, loading trays to take out.

“Hey, uh, Marcus.” Carmen ignored Richie’s raised brows, a teasing, questioning remark on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Chef?” Marcus muttered, looking up from the cannolis he was garnishing.

“Table nine has a birthday. I was thinkin’ maybe the chocolate ganache, punch it with the little circle to make it look like a cake. Add a candle?” Carmen muttered, hand rubbing across his face.

“Yeah, Chef, I can do that.” Marcus nodded.

“Thank you.” Carmen nodded. “And Chef? Let me know when it’s ready before you walk it.”

Marcus frowned. “No, it’s not- I just wanna walk it, ok?” Carmen shook his head.

“Alright.” Marcus nodded slowly. “Heard, Chef.”

Richie smirked, leaning against the stainless steel table. “So,” Richie hummed. “There a complaint or somethin’? Need me to go talk to ‘em-”

“-No,” Carmen snapped, the possessiveness in his tone startling the both of them. “Sorry, it’s- No, I-I don’t need you to do that, Chef. Everything’s good.”

Richie nodded slowly, passing the dishes to Gary with a nod. “You gonna tell me what that was about?”

“No, Chef.” Carmen clipped, an edge to his tone that was teetering on annoyed. “But, uh, there’s not gonna be a check on table nine.”

“What?” Richie frowned. “Did you mess somethin’ up? Seriously, Cousin, if something's wrong it’s my job to know-”

“-No, it’s not-.” Carmen huffed, eyes pinching closed, running a hand over his face in frustration. “Look, that’s… The girl on the end? I-I’ve been kinda seein’ her, ya know?” He muttered.

Richie gawked, blinking in disbelief. “No shit.” He grinned. “No shit? You-You’re serious?” He turned to look out the window.

“Don’t fuckin’ look.” Carmen hissed. “Look, it-it’s not a big deal, alright? Just don’t-don’t say anything o-or do anything.”

Richie swallowed back a teasing remark, a reactive reaction from years of being with Mikey. How the two of them used to tease Carmen endlessly, until they were fighting on the front lawn, Mikey howling with laughter while Carmen was red faced with mortified anger.

This time, Richie held back. He wasn’t sure why, call it divine intervention, a gut feeling maybe, but it felt different this time.

“Alright.” Richie nodded slowly. “No ticket for nine. Heard.”

Carmen’s foot tapped anxiously. “I mean, right? Th-That’s what I should do right?” Carmen looked over his shoulder out the window. “That would be shitty to give her a check? Be a complete jagoff move to charge her?”

“Yeah,” Richie scoffed lightly. “Jagoff of the fuckin’ year. Makin’ your girl pay to come to your place.”

Carmen’s heart swelled at the term- your girl. His girl. You were his girl.

“Walk four Pappardelle to nine. Walk one Pappardelle vegetarian style to nine.” Sydney called.

Carmen dipped the spoon in the glaze, garnishing the plate before sliding it towards Sydney. “So, you gonna take these out?” He muttered.

“No,” Carmen huffed. “Gonna wait until the cake.”

“Yeah, good idea, Cousin.” Richie nodded with a proud smile. “That when you’re gonna tell them no check tonight?”

“No,” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t- It would feel weird comin’ from me.” He looked up at Richie. “I was gonna let you do it.”

“Yeah, I can handle that.” Richie smirked. “And I won’t say anything, Cousin.” He stopped Carmen before he could say it. “I got you, Cousin. I won’t fuck it up, alright?”

Carmen nodded slowly, a strangled thank you on the tip of his tongue. The door swung open behind Richie, and for a second, Carmen caught a glimpse of you. Smiling and laughing, leaned in over the table, no doubt giggling with your friends about him. Carmen’s heart squeezed, but this time, without fear. No, there was no dooming fear that you were mocking him, making fun of him. This time, he felt the content rush of adrenaline filled love. A change in his routine, yes. Unexpected, sure, but he was glad for it. Glad that you were there- here, with him.

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cheriepie111 · 3 months

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Pleaseee I need jealous!Reader and Spencer Reid??🙏🏾🙏🏾Maybe reader and the rest of bau are out clubbing or whatevaaa and someone keeps flirting with him?? And Spencer being absolutely clueless and love sick with reader he doesn't even notice.🤦🏾‍♀️ Maybe a little angsty at the start but ending a little spicy or more fluffy or maybe both? Whatever you're comfortable with! Thank youuuu💕

Jealousy Is Haunting Me

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: You don't like anyone touching what's yours

Warnings: Possessive reader, Bathroom sex, Oral (m!receiving)

Title is from 'Jealousy' by Pale Waves

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

Thomas Maloney. That was the name of the bastard that you had just locked up for life. And it was his arrest that warranted this celebratory trip to the bar. You nursed your third negroni and watched as your boyfriend chatted with some blond across the bar. His shirt sleeves were pushed past his elbows in a desperate attempt to gain some reprieve from the heat and he clutched a club soda in his hand. Spencer had the same look in his eye that he got when he talked about his favorite books but the girl’s eyes glinted far more nefariously.

A brush of her hand, a well timed laugh… It was all too much. Spencer didn’t protest when you interrupted, he didn’t protest when you dragged him to the bathroom, and he especially didn’t protest when you locked the door behind him. He was quick to ask what’s wrong, his large hands finding your hips.

“She was all over you,” you huffed, a petulant pout on your lips. He chuckled lowly against your neck before kissing your cheek.

“I’m yours, baby. You know that.”

“Doesn’t mean I like seeing it,” You said, your hand tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. You gave the soft locks a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your boyfriend.

“I-I’m yours,” He repeated, pulling you impossibly closer. Chest to chest, mouth to mouth, thighs to… bulge? You raised an eyebrow and he could only grin sheepishly. A rush of possessiveness washed over you at the realization.

“All mine.” Your fingers tugged at his belt as you dropped to your knees, the dirty floor the last thing on your mind. Spencer groaned, his fingers gripping the sink, and prayed that his knees wouldn’t give out. You took your time sliding his slacks and boxers down his lithe legs, reveling in his soft gasps. His thick dick sprung forward and you’re so eager to touch him, to tease him… You wrapped your hand around his base, taking in the sight of him above you. He was such a pretty mess, his hair sticking to his forehead and his lips parted.

“God, I wish that bitch could see you now.” You hummed against his tip. “All desperate for my mouth.” He mumbled something incoherent and his sweet sounds egged you on as you took him in your mouth. Your other hand fondled his balls and he knew he would cum embarrassingly quickly if you kept looking at him like that.

His head knocked against the cracked mirror as he let out a strangled moan. Fuck, you felt so good that his mind went cloudy. The dingy bathroom filled with sloppy sounds and loud mounds as you worked him. Spencer felt his stomach tightening and he knew. He tried to warn you, he really did, but he was overcome with white-hot pleasure before he could from the words. You made no move to slow, savoring the salty sweetness that filled your mouth, his earthy scent that invaded your nose, and the delicious moans that rang in your ears.

#nonnie i love you #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x you smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader smut #lacys literature

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scarletlizzard · 7 months

Text

Older

Music Series

Pairing: professor!Wanda x fem!Reader

Tags Minors DNI: older/younger (college), mommy kink, smut, choking, fingering & strap on use (R receiving), little overstimulation, praise or degradation kink? why not both, just shameless smut sorry

A/N: This is based on the song Older by Isabel LaRosa! This was requested. Thanks for reading, gladly appreciate any feedback. Thank you! 😊🩷

Masterlist

Wanda watches from her chair as you lean across the desk in front of her, your ass in the air with your skirt pulled down. Her hands reach out to caress your hips, touching the soft skin she can see. When her fingers reach your panties, she begins to pull them down, seeing a sticky string of wetness on your thigh.

"Please, Professor... I need you so bad," you moan and look back at her. Wanda stares in your eyes, her fingers dipping inside of you. You were soaking wet, and she knew it was all for her, your hot walls squeezing her fingers as she thrusted them inside you.

"Ohh, God! Miss Maximoff! " You moan again, Wanda feels herself becoming wetter as you push your hips back against her.

"Miss Maximoff..."

The image of you bent over her desk begins to fade.

"Miss Maximoff? " She hears your voice again.

Wanda blinks and clears her throat, her eyes meeting yours. Only this time, you're standing in front of her desk instead of lying across it. Students around the room were packing their bags and heading towards the door.

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N?" She asks and blinks a few more times, looking up from the papers she was supposed to be grading.

This had been happening more often the closer to the end of the semester came. Wanda was a professor at the university you attended. She had been a professor for a while now and absolutely loved her job, the life she was able to live with the money it paid, and being able to teach young minds. Every semester, she saw hundreds of faces, sometimes not being able to remember all of the names.

But then you walked in the first day of this spring semester with a cute smile on your face, eyes sparkling up at her as you greeted her.

Something about you and the way you acted towards her had Wanda questioning all of her morals.

To be fair, you couldn't help it... when you saw Wanda Maximoffs name on your schedule, you knew what you wanted. Your friends had told you all about her from when they took her class, and you'd seen her walking around campus before. She was exactly what you needed after failed relationship after relationship.

Someone older, someone as hot as she is.

So as the semester went on, you began wearing more revealing clothes, leaving very little to the imagination. At the end of every class, you would find yourself leaning over her desk, watching as Wanda struggled to keep eye contact with you.

"I don't think I really understood today's lesson. Do you think you could give me some extra help?" You would ask her, batting your eyelashes. Wanda swallowed hard and looked around the empty room, running a hand through her firey hair.

"My last class gets out at 3:30. You can meet me back here at 4." She said with a smile, muscle tensing in your grasp as you touched her arm.

"Thank you so much, Professor. .."

And that was how you started your extra 'tutoring' sessions with Wanda. Every day at 4, you would meet her in her class and shut the door behind you. You were a straight A student, clearly not needing any help, so the entire time was spent flirting and laughing, lots of lingering looks and touches.

As time went on, you couldn't help but stare at the ring on her finger. One afternoon, she caught you and gave a soft smile, finding herself needing to explain it to you. But as she opened her mouth, she realized you were her student and nothing more.

"It's complicated," she sighs, deciding not to share. You nod and rest your hand on top of hers, using your other hand to flip the pages of your book. She didn't move away.

'It's complicated' was good enough for you to want - no, need more from her.

So the next day you showed up to her classroom after hours, and when you shut the door, you strutted over to her where she sat at her desk.

"Hey Y/N, what -" Wanda said with an eyebrow raised. She watched as you moved between her and her desk, situating yourself between her legs.

"How long are we gonna play this game for?" You asked in a sultry voice, your hand playing with the top button of her blouse.

"Y/N... this is highly inappropriate. I-I don't know what you're talking about," she spoke sternly, but the look in her eyes and the way she didn't move away was all you needed to continue.

"I'm talking about where we pretend you don't want to fuck me." Your hands moved to the bottom of your skirt, fingers pulling the fabric slowly over the skin of your thighs. "Cmon, Wanda, I can be your little secret... I know you think about me. Do you imagine fucking me right here?" You asked and bite your lip, watching her hands ball into fists.

"I told you to call me Miss Maximoff." Wanda said, not denying a word you spoke.

You leaned forward, hands moved to rub her thighs as your lips touched her ear.

"I'd rather call you mommy..."

Wanda groaned at your words, and in a quick second, she had you bent over her desk, your hands behind your back as her hips pressed against your ass. A moan escaped your lips as your cheek hit the wooden surface. Your hips moved back against her, causing another low sound from Wandas throat.

Before she could do anything else, she quickly released you, panting from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Wanda runs a hand through her hair and straightens out your skirt, stepping away from you. You frown at her actions, hating the way her hands weren't on you anymore.

"You're my student, Y/N. I can't risk it," She said with a cold tone to you, eyes dark with lust.

"Only for a little longer!" You argued her, frowning and crossing your arms.

"You're too young," Wanda said softly and shook her head. Her fingers ran over her lips after she spoke.

You didn't have anything to say at that. You ran out of the room with tearful eyes and an ache in your stomach, not stopping when she called out your name.

That was two weeks ago, and you hadn't been back to her class after hours since. Though every morning Wanda greeted you with that charming fucking smile and a, "Good morning, Y/N," slipping off her tongue in the nicest voice.

Which brings you back to today, standing in front of her as she stared at you with those same dark eyes from two weeks ago. You raise an eyebrow at her demeanor.

"I just wanted to say thanks for all the..." You eye the students leaving the classroom. "...extra help this semester." You clear your throat and adjust the bag on your shoulder. Wanda nods slowly, the image of her fingers inside of you now stuck in her head.

"Of course, Miss Y/L/N. You're a very bright young lady, you know that? Wise beyond your years," Wanda says with a smile, and she truly meant it. You sigh softly with a nod and head towards the door as everyone else had left.

"I'd like to go over your final paper with you, if you don't mind?" You hear her say, and your heart begins to race.

"4?" You ask, turning your head to look at her. She nods.

***

You hear the wood creak as Wanda closes the door. The clicking of the lock makes you squeeze your thighs together as you sit in the chair she put in front of her desk.

You take in her appearance, a white blouse hugging her top and dark slacks on her lower half that she usually wore. She took her red hair out of the bun she had and let her hair fall down her shoulders. She always looks so effortlessly beautiful, always so perfect.

"Is something wrong with my paper?" You ask tentatively, watching her sit across the desk from you.

Wanda folds her hands together on the desk, studying your face carefully. "It was brilliant, Y/N. One of the best I received, actually," she chuckles a little. You blush at her praise and watch as her smile slides into a smirk.

"Thank you, Miss Maximoff." You swallow hard, feeling the tension between the two of you grow in the quiet room. You hear the clock on the wall behind Wanda ticking almost as loudly as your heart was beating in your ears.

"Since I'm no longer your teacher, you don't have to call me that," she says and leans back in her chair.

"Oh, so I can call you Wanda now?" You say playfully, taking in the way she slides the ring off her finger and puts it in a drawer of her desk.

"I'd rather you call me something else," Wanda says, and you can feel your body heat up, realizing she was quoting your last conversation.

You stand from your chair and walk around the desk, feeling her eyes on you as you do. "Something specific?" You tease, standing between her and her desk, once again.

"Are you going to make me ask?" She says and tilts her head, looking up to you. Her hands reach out to rest on your hips as she stands from the chair. It's your turn to look up to her.

"Maybe," you tease again with a shrug, a gasp leaving your mouth when she lifts you easily onto the desk.

Wanda puts herself between your legs, the space between the two of you filled with her presence. You could smell the expensive perfume she wore and the mint on her breath as she leaned in. She chuckles lowly at the goosebumps that arise on your arms.

"I'm not going to be the one begging," she whispers in your ear, a finger under your chin as she leans back and forces your head up.

The two of you lean in at the same time, lips moving in sync as your arms move to wrap around her. Her lips are softer than you could have ever imagined, and you could taste the mint you smelled earlier on her tongue as she explores your mouth.

"I've wanted to kiss you like this since the first time you walked in this room," Wanda groans into your mouth and you can only whine in reply as your hands move to unbutton her blouse.

Her hands make quick work of undoing your jeans, and you wish you hadn't stopped wearing skirts after she told you she couldn't be with you. But those thoughts are quickly replaced with watching Wanda slide your pants and panties down together.

Wanda can't help but moan quietly at the sight of your already wet thighs, sticky with your arousal just like in her dream. She looks in your eyes as two fingers press onto your clit, your mouth parting at the feeling.

"So wet for me already, and I haven't even done anything yet..." She sighs, rubbing circles as your hands grip desperately onto her now open shirt.

"Please, Miss Maximoff... I need you so bad," you moan her name. She almost thinks she's dreaming again until she slips her fingers inside of you, feeling your warm walls squeeze her fingers just as she thought they would. Even better than she imagined.

"What was that, baby?" Her fingers stay still inside of you, her eyes watching your red cheeks.

"Please... mommy?" You ask and bite your lip, her fingers suddenly moving inside of you was all you needed to know that was what she wanted to hear.

"You hear that? You hear how wet you are for me?" She asks, the filthy sounds of her fingers pumping in and out of you fill the empty room. "Fucking gorgeous sounds baby," Wanda groans at the feeling of you squeezing her fingers.

"Yes, mommy, I-I'm so wet for you! Your fingers feel so good," you moan and buck your hips pathetically against her hand.

"You feel so good clenching around my fingers, taking me so well, baby.. you gonna cum already huh?" Wanda says in a condescending tone with a smirk on her lips. Her fingers pick up pace, and you moan at the feeling of her knuckle deep inside of your pussy. The fingers you had imagined so many times inside of you, finally curling and drawing an orgasm out of you. Your body shakes as you come, stomach tightening as you soak her fingers.

"Fuck - Wanda!" You let out, feeling her fingers pump inside of you through your climax.

When she sees your body calm, Wanda removes her fingers, a whimper leaving your mouth as you clench around nothing. Your legs squeeze Wandas hips when she puts her fingers in front of your lips.

"Open up, sweetheart. Taste yourself, see how good mommy made you feel," she says and moves her other hand to cup under your chin.

You comply and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out. When she puts her fingers in your mouth, you suck hard and look up at her with innocent eyes. Batting your eyelashes, you lick between her fingers, a low moan illiciting from the back of her throat.

Something seemed to snap inside of Wanda as you did that, and she quickly removed them and lifted your shirt over your head before taking a step back. The fact that you weren't wearing a bra only drove Wanda more crazy.

"Turn around, baby, and stick your ass up... let me see that pretty pussy," she says with dark eyes, her hands unzipping her slacks to pull out a red strap. Your eyes widen at the sight and she chuckles. "It's okay sweetheart, you can take it. We'll make it fit, won't we?" She asks and watches as you nod and turn around.

You bend over the desk, lifting your ass up and looking back at her, always so fucking innocently. Wanda hums at the sight and guides her strap up and down your wet pussy, sliding part of it in easily.

"I've dreamed of this," she says, and you didn't know she literally had.

You grip onto the wood in front of you, eyes squeezing closed as she pushes herself deeper inside of you. Her hands rub your back and hips soothingly.

"Mommy -fuck- want to take all of you," you whimper out.

"Oh don't worry, sweetheart, you will," she coos and fills you up completely, the fabric of her pants rubbing against your ass as you push back onto her hips.

Once she's bottomed out, she reaches forward to grab your hands, placing them behind your back and holding them there tightly with one hand. Again, all too familiar from your last meeting with her, only this time you've gotten your way. Her hips begin to move slowly at first, but once your whimpers turn into moans, she can no longer hold back.

"This is all you wanted, isn't it, sweetheart? To be fucked and filled with mommys cock like a good little slut," Wanda breathes out as she rails into you.

"Yes, mommy! I-" You stop mid sentence and half moan half whine as your cheek rubs against the wood with every thrust, her hips hitting yours roughly. You clench around the length of her cock, every word driving you closer ro another orgasm.

With one hand holding yours behind your back, the other smacks your ass sharply. "You can't even talk, can you baby? Is mommy fucking you dumb? What happened to my smart girl?" She chuckles, again in a condescending tone.

But she wasn't wrong. You were at the point of whining, and gasping breathes with each thrust feeling deeper than the next. All your teasing and taunting Wanda through the semester, and this was all it took to finally shut you up.

Not that either of you would complain.

The desk scratches against the floor as she pounds into you, the sounds of the wood creaking underneath the weight of you and her fucking into your wet pussy fill the room, accompanied by your whimpers and half sentences.

"Feels so -"

Another moan.

"So, so good, mommy!"

Another whimper.

Wandas hand palms your ass cheek roughly before you feel her nails digging into your hips. She feels more resistance as she pumps in and out of you, your walls clenching tightly.

"You're close, aren't you, sweetheart?" She groans at the whimper that leaves your mouth, and she pushes herself harder into you. For a second, you feel like the desk would break. "Alright baby, you better be a good girl and cum for mommy..." She says and the praise is all you need to release all over Wandas strap, your wetness spreading and dripping onto your thighs.

The scrapping of the desk stops as she slows her thrusts, her hand releasing your hands from her grip. The two of you sit there for a moment breathing heavily, and Wanda leans forward to kiss your cheek.

"Such a good girl for me, you took me so well, baby... that's it. Just take a minute." Her hands move to lift you up, not removing the cock from inside of you. She sits down in her chair and brings you with her, sitting you in her lap.

"I-I can't take anymore," you breathe out and shake your head, wincing at the feeling of how full she felt inside of you, the way she stretched you out completely.

"Shhh," Wanda coos in a soothing voice, placing sweet kisses on your back and shoulder. "Just one more baby, one more for mommy. There you go, baby just like that," she says, guiding you to move your hips.

Any pain had quickly turned to pleasure as you moved in her lap, your back pressing against her front as you leaned back. Her hips met yours with every bounce, and you tears threatened to escape with how good you felt.

"Such a good girl for mommy, aren't you?" She asks, you feel her left hand grope your breasts, fingers squeezing your nipple as her right hand moves up your side slowly, gripping your throat.

"Y-Yes, mommy, just for you. I'm -oh fuck- I'm so close," you whine as her fingers squeeze either side of your neck. You feel the air escape your throat just enough to feel your chest tighten.

Wanda moans at the feeling of your pulse quicken under her thumb. She was practically holding you up at this point. Your head falls back onto her shoulder, and her left hand moves down to rub your swollen clit. You let out a gasp at the pleasure of the overstimulation of it all.

"That's it, baby, just like that. You're doing so good for mommy," she praises in your ear, her lips moving against the skin just underneath. Wandas hips move more roughly up into you, her grip tightening around your throat.

Your hands move up to grip onto her arm, nails digging into the sleeves of her shirt as she forces another orgasm out of you.

"Mommy, I'm coming!" You whine as your body trembles against her, your legs failing you as she holds you up tightly in her lap.

"Fuck sweetheart, just-just hold on mommy's gonna cum too," Wanda groans against your neck and continues to pound into you from underneath you as she chases her own high. You were beyond overstimulated at this point, and the tears that threatened to fall from earlier flowed freely down your cheeks now.

Wandas thrusts begin to waver, and as she moans against your skin, her hand squeezes your throat again, the muscles in her arm tensing as she comes.

She removes her hand from your throat and clit and instead wraps her arms around you securely. You bury your face against her neck, feeling vulnerable and exposed as you sit naked in her lap. Wanda had taken any weight you carried off your shoulders, you had never felt more relaxed or well-fucked in your life.

You feel her lips kiss your cheek, and you respond by peppering her neck and jaw with kisses back.

"You okay, darling?" Wanda asks, her voice soft. You could see a bright smile on her face as you look up at her and nod. "Use your words."

"Yes... never felt better." You sigh contently and smile back at her, leaning over to kiss her on the lips.

Wanda helps you off of her strap, your legs weak underneath you as you reach for your shirt as she tucks the strap back into her pants. She reaches out to grab your panties and jeans.

"I don't want you to clean yourself off until you get home. Understand?" She asks with a smirk as she pulls your pants over your wet and sticky thighs. "I want you to think about me for the rest of the night," Wanda whispers and buttons your jeans, pulling up the zipper. You stand uncomfortably but nod, the thought and feeling only making your stomach burn all over again.

You look at Wanda and take in the sight of the smirk on her red, swollen lips, her red hair cascading down to lay on her breasts that peak through her open blouse. Her hands move to button up the shirt, but the sight of her empty ring finger reminds you of a certain fact.

"Will I see you again?" You ask, not being able to hide the disappointment on your face. The smile that takes over her face is enough to relax the features on your own.

"We've got all summer," she chuckles, her hands cupping your cheeks as she kisses your forehead.

Someone older was definitely what you needed.

And having Wanda for the summer? You would do everything prove to her that age was just a number, and figure out just how 'complicated' her marriage was. Because when she walked out of the classroom with you next to her, she left the ring in the drawer of the desk she had just fucked you on.

#marvel #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #teacher wanda #mommy wanda #Spotify

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azrielbrainrot · 7 months

Text

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 2

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: You're back home right when Azriel was starting to lose all hope, but is the person standing in front of him the same who disappeared all those years ago?

Warnings: Angst, mentions of blood, injury

Word Count: 6670

Notes: The original plan wasn't to write more of this story but I had a few ideas of where to take this and decided to turn it into a mini series, don't think it will be longer than 3-4 chapters. Also I don't know if the HoW has cells in the books but it does here and they're normal, not dungeon-y like, and the story is set after acosf but Amren never got turned into fae because I like her better like this. A lot of people liked the first part so I really hope this one doesn't disappoint. I hope you enjoy!

Part 1 ○ Part 3

Azriel was at the townhouse before he even fully realized what was happening. Didn't even give anyone an explanation, simply letting his shadows take him, barely hearing the questioning cries of his name. He didn't need to hear anything else aside from your name to know that's where he should be, his body moved before he even had time to formulate the thought.

Your sweet scent invaded his brain before he even arrived at the house. He'd be able to recognize it anywhere, he'd longed for it for so long after all. Every day when he opened his eyes, he hoped he would wake up to your scent floating around this house as it once did, as it did right now. He's not one to go into anything blindly, to run head first and only think about the consequences later, but this felt like his last chance. The loneliness that had settled deep in his soul had been replaced with hope with one word.

His shadows move to different corners of the room as soon as he's dropped off, leaving him uncharacteristically naked, unguarded. Even the shadows that would form naturally from the faint glow of the moon seemed to move off his face. They wanted him to enjoy this moment in full, this was his and only his.

In truth he barely noticed them leave, too preoccupied with the figure in front of him. He wouldn't have believed it if he wasn't witnessing it with his own eyes. How many times had he been haunted by this exact vision in his dreams? There you were standing in the sitting room, shining like a goddess under the moonlight filtering through the windows. You hadn't changed since the last time he saw you, only had gotten even more mesmerizing if anything.

Your hair was a bit shorter than you usually wore it, the tight pants a contrast to the usual short skirts you preferred. Then there was a scar running across your neck, even with the distance and darkness in the room he could tell it ran from ear to ear. It was a painful reminder of what you've been through, of the night he couldn't protect you. But it meant this was real. You were actually standing in front of him. This was something he had dreamed of many times, almost every night since you've been gone.

He calls your name and it feels amazing. Just the sound of your name leaving his lips, not in mourning or wistfulness but as a greeting, is enough to bring a face splitting grin to his face. Gods, he missed saying your name without almost feeling suffocated by the weight that formed in his chest.

You startle at the sound, seemingly not expecting company at the house. He has no time to study the strange expression on your face though, he needs to touch you first, to feel your skin against his, your warmth against his body, your heart beating behind your ribcage. He needs to make sure this is real and not some cruel dream or hallucination his mind thought up to torment him. He needs you to be really back.

As soon as your eyes meet his form, he clears the distance between you in two hurried steps, but, before he can hug you, he feels your hand reach out to him. He doesn't even have time to realize you're reaching towards his thigh, to Truth Teller. He doesn't know if it was confusion holding him back, the strangeness of the whole act or if he's simply willing to take anything as long as it comes from you, but he makes no movement to stop you from grabbing his knife, allowing you to pierce it through his stomach, never so much as looking away from your beautiful face or even flinching at the blade.

He can feel every inch of the dagger inside him, can feel the blood quickly seeping through his shirt. Still, the pain in his gut can't hold a candle to the relief and joy running through his veins. You're real. The knife went through, so you have to be real. He can clearly hear your heartbeat now as well, it sounds strong aside from how fast it's going.

Azriel reaches a hand out to you again, slower as not to startle you. He can't help the fluttering of his own heart as you finally let him make contact with the softness of your skin. You haven't moved your hands from the knife, your wide eyes staring at your now blood covered hands. He caresses your cheek lovingly and tilts your face up so he can meet your eyes at last.

He can tell something is wrong, as if it hadn't been glaringly obvious by his favorite knife currently stuck in his stomach. Your eyes seem unfocused, a bit panicked, maybe even angry. But he can't bring himself to care in this moment.

He doesn't know if this is your revenge for letting you die, for not finding you, or even if this is what you had wanted out of him from the start, maybe your whole relationship had been a lie. It doesn't matter. He'll gladly die at your hands if that's the fate you chose for him. At least he'd spend his last moments with you, a privilege he didn't think he would have the pleasure of experiencing.

His heart threatens to stop altogether when your eyes meet, it feels like time stopped around him. “You're home, my love,” he breathes out, letting out a soft disbelieving chuckle, “You're finally home.” He raises his other hand to your face, caressing both your cheeks with his scarred thumbs, he almost forgot how soft your skin felt against his rough hands. He's been clutching at faint memories for decades.

His smile falters when his thumb moves down, stroking down your jaw to the column of your throat, where a scar runs across your neck. He watches his thumb following the clean line, his scars had always been awful reminders of what was done to him, it ate at him even five centuries later, but seeing yours hurt even more. You should have never known this kind of pain.

“What?” Your voice was barely a whisper, confusion and fear holding it hostage. He looks back up into your eyes, seeing the same emotions swim in your gaze even more heightened. He didn't like that, you would never have any reason to be scared of him. He goes to tell you as much when he feels power surging into the room.

“Azriel?” Cassian's voice cuts through the moment and he has to close his eyes to keep himself calm. He wanted more time with you, wanted to talk to you before they got here, before they saw the blood but had gotten too distracted. His mind wasn't working properly, his thoughts were all over the place, he wanted nothing more than to hug you but was too aware of how strangely you were acting. He couldn't keep you and his family in check, not with every instinct inside him screaming to just pick you up and winnow you to the other side of the world.

He calls his shadows to him, a desperate attempt at hiding his injury. He knows it's in vain when he feels Rhys let go of the damper on his power, letting the suffocating night fill up the room. You look positively terrified now, he can even smell it mixing in your sweet scent. Letting go of your face, an act that takes more effort than he could imagine, he turns around slowly, trying to be mindful of keeping you covered, protected from his family.

Your hands don't stop holding onto the dagger, as he moves away from you, the force of it is enough to pull it out of his stomach and let the blood run free with no resistance. The pain was getting worse, it didn't look like you hit any vital organs but his healing wasn't fast enough to keep it at bay on its own.

Feyre is the first to move towards him when she sees the blood, but he simply holds up a hand, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Trying to keep a leveled head was proving to be a near impossible task as he saw the anger in everyone's faces, it was directed at you. He holds onto his abdomen, the pain was making itself known.

Seeing Azriel stop his mate from approaching, Rhys walks closer to the shadowsinger himself. His face was a mix of regret and fury as he spoke up. “What happened here, Azriel?” If his mind was in the right place he would have noticed the restraint his brother was showing at seeing him bleeding out in his house, restraint only present because of his own feelings towards you. Unfortunately, Azriel's instincts were winning against logic.

He hears you finally drop Truth Teller behind him, your body must have started listening to you when Rhysand got too close, recognizing him as a threat. He makes the mistake of looking back at the knife, not hearing the snarl that curls his brother's lips in time. Rhys winnows behind him in that moment and you had gotten too close to the window for him to reach you.

“Don't touch her,” he warns Rhys viciously. He doesn't want to think what he was capable of if anyone hurt you again, even if it was his own brother.

He sees you fall to the floor before he registers what happened. His heart almost leaps out of his throat, letting out an anguished cry of your name as he runs to you, pushing his brother out of the way and holding you up from the ground. Searching for a pulse frantically, he finds you were only unconscious. A breath of relief escapes him as he pushes your hair out of your face, it almost brings tears to his eyes. You will be fine. Rhys had only entered your mind to keep you asleep and stop you from escaping. You will wake up. You will not leave him again.

He hugs you closer to him, too focused on making sure you were alright and keeping his breathing leveled to hear what they were saying behind him. He felt as helpless as when he was still a child being subjected to his father's cruelty. It takes him a while before he finally calms himself down enough to hear the argument behind him.

“Let's talk to him first,” Cassian says, the emotion clear in his voice.

“He put up a shield around them,” Rhys was sounding less like a High Lord by the word, “He's not in his right mind.” A shield? He checks the air around them to find that his brother was right, there was a shield around them both, even his shadows had moved to cover them, separating them from the world.

“Neither are any of you,” Nesta's voice cuts through everyone, finally silencing them.

“We already called for Madja,” Feyre uses the silence that settled to speak, “We can get him treated and hold her somewhere until she wakes up.”

“No,” he drops you gently on the ground, letting his shadows cover you, protect you, before turning to face his family.

Feyre hesitates before continuing, seeing something on his face that makes her choose a different approach. He never mentioned being married to her but your name had been brought up before, he knew Rhys had filled her in on what happened, still she couldn't understand what he was feeling. Even he couldn't.

“The cells under the House of Wind are safe. It's just for-”

“You will not put my wife in a cell,” the words came out clipped, slipping through clenched teeth, the shadowsinger was barely holding on to a sense of restraint against his High Lady.

“She stabbed you,” Rhys yells, looking down at the wound in his brother's torso, thankfully already starting to heal, “it doesn't matter that she used to be your wife.” The growl Azriel lets out at his brother is nothing short of vicious, a feral and lethal thing rising straight from the center of his being.

“She is still my wife,” Azriel says behind a snarl, “And you will not hurt her.” Even if it was in the clean cells of the House of Wind, he could never bear to see you caged. He was ready to go to any lengths necessary to make sure of that. If helping you escape the Night Court was what it took he knew of a few ways not to get caught.

He could see Rhys' shoulders tense up, his own face morphing to match Azriel's fury. He didn't know if his mental shields were down or if his intentions were just uncharacteristically clear on his face but he was sure that his brother knew what Azriel - his spymaster - was thinking.

“She can stay in one of the rooms up in the House,” Cassian offers quickly, trying to settle the rising tension between his brothers, “She can't winnow out because of the wards and we can watch her until she wakes up.” Deep down he knows they don't want to hurt you either, that they're only worried but it's difficult to pay attention to the voice of reason within him during this whole situation. His greatest wish had just been answered. So why does everything seem to be falling apart with it?

Mor winnows in with Madja before he can give them a response which is a good thing because anything he could come up with would probably only put you and him in a more precarious situation. There were too many emotions warring inside him, the same going around almost everyone in the room if only more intense. The healer's presence seems to dissipate most of the tension automatically as Rhys even turns to look out the window and allows his mate to hold onto his hand, probably telling him soothing words in his mind.

Madja moves to Azriel with no hesitation, only stopping briefly when she senses the shield. She merely gives him a look before he drops it so she can reach him. He knows she wouldn't hurt you, knows he needs the wound in his stomach taken care of so he can focus on you, think about what to do when you wake up.

“You need to sit down so I can treat you,” she tells him while inspecting the wound.

“I will not leave her.”

“You can trust her with us, Az,” Mor tries to reassure him, but with the way the last minutes have played out he wasn't trusting you with them, or anyone else for that matter. He'd just gotten you back, no way is he letting you out of his sight for a second, he could bleed out for all he cares.

Suddenly, he sees Nesta walk to the table and grab a chair through his peripheral. She appears to be mumbling something to herself but he can't quite hear her to understand. She walks to him and drops the chair in her hands on his right, before giving him a narrow eyed look and returning to her mate's side.

He's not sure how much she knows of the situation. The three sisters probably all know by now that he used to be married but none of them has mentioned you to him, warned by whoever told them of the consequences of doing it.

He sits on the chair and lets Madja work on him. The wound wasn't too bad, even if he didn't have access to a healer it would close in a short time. You stabbed it cleanly through, just like he'd taught you. If he hadn't been the practice dummy he might praise you for it. By the Mother, he thinks he still might. He wonders if you'll grace him with a bright smile and flushed cheeks for it like you used to.

Azriel looks over to your sleeping form under the moonlight. He's calming down enough that he's starting to feel the uncertainty bubbling inside him. Truth Teller still laid on the floor beside you, covered in his blood just as your hands were.

“Is she…” What did he want to ask? Is it really her? How did she survive? There was so much blood on the ground that night. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was too much for someone to survive with no immediate help and an absurd amount of luck. “Is it really her?” He whispered the question, not bearing to look away from you as he does.

“You know that better than me,” the healer answers calmly. He can sense some emotion in her voice. You had asked her to make tonics to help him sleep and relax many times, to teach you basic healing and how to put on bandages to help him when he was too stubborn and not gravely injured enough to go see the healer. She probably missed you as well. “She's healthy.”

He feels a rush of relief at the words. You're healthy. The confirmation allows him to relax further. Finally looking away from you to see part of his family still watching the scene before them. He knows they too were thinking about the blood, the sleepless nights they spent searching for any sign of you. His eyes meet Rhys' briefly, knowing they'll need to talk about what happened.

He closes his eyes and leans his head back, letting out a soft sigh. You're back. He never thought he'd see you again but you're right here next to him. You're not a dream or a hallucination. You're healthy. The thought almost brings a smile to his lips despite the situation. Anything else can be dealt with now that you're by his side again.

“Are you sure you don't need to rest, Az?” He looks up from the familiar ring, still twisting it around his finger. It felt right putting it back on, he was almost giddy at the sight of the silver in his finger, but it also left him with immense guilt eating at him for taking it off in the first place. He studies Nesta's face for a second, giving up on trying to decipher what she was thinking in favor of looking back at you.

When everyone calmed down enough and Azriel was treated, it had been decided that you couldn't be left alone even in the room, they needed someone to keep an eye on you. It had also been quickly added that Azriel wasn't enough, his brother had seen right through him, he knew Azriel wouldn't try to stop you from killing him or trying to escape if you put your mind to it.

Cassian and Mor refused to stand watch unless it was truly necessary. He knows they wouldn't want to be put in a position where they had to stop you, knew they would not only feel guilty for hurting you but also wouldn't forgive themselves for hurting Azriel.

Even Rhysand, used to the weight and impartiality of the High Lord's title, looked hesitant in keeping him company, he had already forcefully invaded your mind to take your consciousness away, something he had vowed never to do to his friend. He could definitely stop you both from any of the worse case scenarios but at a cost he couldn't bear to pay.

That had left him with the two trained Archeron sisters and Amren. They set shifts to make sure Azriel was never left alone with you, he thinks they might not even trust him not to take you away from the room himself and help you escape. He can't really be sure himself if he wouldn't do exactly that if you asked. He'd follow you to the end of the world and beyond just to hear you call his name one more time.

“The wound is healed,” he whispers, keenly aware of your sleeping form, a habit that came to him naturally after seeing you. You always liked to sleep in and waking you up before your time was close to a death sentence.

“That's not what I meant.” Nesta walks closer to the chair beside your bed, the one he hasn't gotten up from since tucking you into the bed carefully. She placed a hand on his shoulder and studied you for a moment, something she's been doing since her shift started. “She stabbed you,” she says in an usually hesitant tone coming from her, “Are you sure it's her?”

“I would sooner forget my own name than mistake my wife for someone else,” the words came out clipped even with him trying to hold back his anger. It wasn't her fault for being suspicious, Nesta never got the chance to meet you, barely even heard about Azriel's marriage. She just wants to protect him, protect her friend.

“Why would she hurt you then?”

“Maybe it's my punishment,” the words leave him before he can think them through. It doesn't matter anyway, they all saw the state he was in at the townhouse. No point hiding now.

“Punishment?” She took a step back from the chair to be able to face him, her perplexed face coming into view. “You didn't do anything wrong.” The notion was almost laughable. Azriel had done plenty wrong in his life.

“I didn't find her,” he whispers, facing away from his friend in favor of watching you, “She's been out there for almost a century, on her own,” he clenched his fists at the thought, “and I didn't find her.”

“I know you looked for her as best as you could. I know you all did.” And what good did his best do?

“You don't understand, Nesta,” he says as he looks down at the ring once again, closing his eyes briefly at the burn he felt in his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, didn't want to explain his feelings to any of them.

“I do,” she starts, “If something happened-”

“If,” he cringes at how he raised his voice, immediately looking over to your sleeping form to make sure he didn't disturb you, and then added more quietly, with the same conviction in his tone, “If something happened to Cassian you would understand. But it hasn't and so you don't.”

Nesta lets out a defeated sigh, moving back to her original seat by the window, patting his shoulder comfortingly on her way. His eyes are focused on you once more and he has no intention of letting them stray until you wake up, and long after you do.

⋆｡°✩°｡⋆

You wake up slowly, your mind aware of your near consciousness before your body can follow. It feels like you've never been this deeply asleep, even the dreams that usually haunt you were quiet. Perhaps that's why it takes you so long to remember your current situation, it could also be the strangeness of it. You keep your eyes closed as your body and mind slowly come to.

You didn't expect to be lying on a bed, an unbelievably soft bed at that, after being caught stealing from the High Lord's home and then stabbing someone from his so-called Inner Circle. You're not sure when you lost consciousness but, in the split second the High Lord stood in front of you, you were more than certain you wouldn't be able to escape death again.

The sun is high in the sky, meaning you failed your mission, not only because you had been caught but also for not getting to the meeting point on time. Whether at the hands of your captors or your employers you were already as good as dead. The thought has heat burning behind your eyelids and your throat threatening to close up.

You don't even know what happened. This whole mission had seemed above your expertise from the start. You had never been sent on a mission to Prythian and the fact that you were sent to steal from a High Lord's home, the strongest in history at that, had sowed doubts inside you from the moment you heard about your mission from your handler. That and the sinking feeling in your gut as you listened to their descriptions of the city and people working for the High Lord. Every cell on your body was trying to reject this idea.

Deciding to trust your gut, you even brought up your doubts to your superiors, going as far as asking why you were being sent to retrieve some book when there are other fae more experienced in working there. There wasn't even any time to study the place or come up with escape routes. You had never been sent into any mission like this. Your worries had been quickly dismissed. They seemed completely convinced you wouldn't be caught, that you were the only member capable of this job.

Sneaking into the city had been simple enough, there seemed to be some celebration happening since so many fae were drinking and dancing around bars and even on the street. Your uneasiness only got worse as you walked through the streets. Something was wrong, every single one of your instincts was screaming at you, but you couldn't figure out why.

You walked to an alley close to the High Lord's house and surveyed the perimeter, making sure your intel was correct and the house was truly empty. After postponing the inevitable long enough, you took a deep breath and winnowed straight into the house, and, just like your handler told you, there were no wards or shields stopping you from entering. You thought this was peculiar for a High Lord but many powerful fae think themselves invincible to the point of arrogance and at the sacrifice of their own safety.

As you walked quietly through the hallway, your feet seemed to have a mind of their own, carrying you into a big room with sofas and a fireplace instead of the office you were supposed to be already searching through. You had the same feeling of deja vu as when you were walking through the illuminated streets before, something about the portraits on the walls and the peculiar chairs had your heart sputtering in your chest. It was an intricate design but you could swear you'd never seen anything like them before.

You moved closer to the window, far enough that no one could see you through it, and looked down at the city once more. Taking in the lights, the colorful houses and the fae cheerfully walking around the streets despite the late hour. There is no place like this in Montesere, not even close, so you don't understand how you could be confusing it, you really feel like you've been here before. Everything down to the names of the stores and smells wafting through the air look strangely familiar.

As you got lost in your thoughts, you had completely forgot about your mission. Letting your guard down, enough so that you didn't hear or feel anyone's presence in the same room until you heard them call out someone's name. The sound had goosebumps traveling through your entire body, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What scared you the most wasn't even the fact that you had just been caught but that voice, that name, almost brought tears to your eyes.

You stood frozen for a moment before turning around slowly and your entire body went still at what you saw. The male in front of you was the same one that haunted your dreams ever since you could remember, you would recognize that figure, those wings, those eyes anywhere.

You almost doubted you were awake at all but when he moved closer to you, standing in front of you before you could even blink, your body moved to protect yourself on instinct, to do as you had been taught at the guild. Your movements were a lot slower than usual, almost like something inside you was trying to stop you from hurting him but you had still managed to grab the long knife strapped to his thigh and stab it through his stomach in one clean movement.

The knife went in smoothly and he simply took it without trying to stop you or even letting out a sound. You've taken countless times before, killing was part of your life, of your job, but watching his blood run and coat your hands had made you feel incredibly guilty. You couldn't move, couldn't even let go of the knife.

When his hand reached to touch your face - a movement you didn't even register until his rough skin came in contact with your cheek - your wild eyes had met his and, suddenly, it felt like the world was spinning. The bright hazel was so familiar you could cry. He'd been starring in your dreams for so long but you'd never seen him quite this close. As you slowly let your mind catch up to you, you noticed he was smiling.

“You're home, my love,” he whispered softly. Your heart had felt like it was going to beat out of your chest at that point. You were missing something, a piece of information that felt like it was swimming right on the edge of your brain, but you couldn't quite reach it. His hands had both moved to cup your face by the time you found your voice.

“What?” What is going on? Who are you? Why do I feel like I know you? Why is your touch so familiar? My love? Your brain was filled with questions but you couldn't even find it in you to ask them. Couldn't look away from his eyes, the former joy seen in them giving way to something else.

“Azriel?” Both of you had tensed at the voice behind him. It seems he didn't hear anyone else arrive either, too caught up in each other and whatever mysterious tension was tying you together.

Your hands had tightened around the dagger on instinct, you could feel the power rippling through the room. You should have ran away while it was only him, he had let you stab him so maybe he would let you run away as well. But, as night incarnate filled the room, you knew every chance you had at an escape was lost.

The rest of the events were a blur, one moment you were watching more and more people winnow into the room, sending your heart further into disarray, and the next the High Lord himself stood in front of you with fury and what looked like disappointment etching his features, and then everything went dark.

As your memories from the night before fade, you become more aware of your surroundings. You could hear two separate breaths close to you, could smell two distinct scents, you suppose it was lucky enough that they had let you sleep on a bed, it's only natural they'd have someone keeping watch.

If they'd been watching you this whole time they would have to know you were awake by now, so you open your eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust to the brightness in the room. You study the intricate gold designs on the dark navy ceiling. Why did even the ceiling seem familiar? It feels like you are losing your mind.

Your head turns to the nightstand, where a cup of water sat over a flower shaped lace coaster. You almost gulped at the sight of it, your throat was so dry you weren't sure you could speak, but you were in a stranger's house, one you had tried to rob the night before, there had to be a catch somewhere and you didn't want to end at the cruel hands of poison.

Two pairs of eyes burned into you, and since you're not going to drink anyway, you decide that there's no delaying this confrontation any more. You turn to look at them, not surprised at finding the winged male sitting close to your bed, but he was accompanied by someone else, something else.

You sit up in bed slowly, not wanting to appear as a threat and startle them into thinking you had intentions of escaping or attacking you. You really didn't know why they hadn't just dumped you in a dark dungeon - you heard about their less than kind reputation before coming here - but you wanted to keep in their good graces if you could help it. They're probably keeping you to know more about who sent you, shame you can't tell them anything, maybe they'd even let you go if you could.

When you sit up against the headboard, your eyes meet the male's immediately, as if you were called to do it. Some of the same emotions you had seen last night were still shining in his eyes, but today there was so much more, so much so that you couldn't even begin to pick them apart even with the difference of a calm mind.

Your captors don't move so you take the moment to study the male before you. He always showed up covered in shadows in your dreams, you had barely caught glimpses of his face in the almost century of seeing him. Which was a real shame if you dared to admit it. He has an exceptionally beautiful face, the sun filtering through the window was giving his tan skin an ethereal glow, his eyes shine brightly, allowing you to make up the different tones of green and brown within them. His hair was stark black, curling slightly at the ends.

You had noticed the large wings that stood at his back the first time you'd seen him. You've never met any species of fae with wings but his were definitely peculiar. You always thought they were black but, with the brightness in the room and his shadows away, you can see they lean more to a crimson and gray-ish color. Trailing down to his torso, you notice that there doesn't seem to be any blood or sign of injury. He had already gotten healed then. For some reason, your heart calms at that and you try telling yourself it's because it might lessen the trouble you got in.

A shadow moves across him to reach up into his ear, almost like it was whispering something to him. You knew the Night Court's Spymaster was a shadowsinger, the only of its kind, but you didn't know what his shadows could do, what they could see and tell him. The hair on the back of your neck raises as his eyes watch you intently while listening to his shadow's words. They had to be talking about you. Could they read through your thoughts?

“Leave us alone, Amren.” Your eyes finally stray from the male when you hear her name, finally taking in the short creature behind him, and you almost regret it when her bright silver eyes meet yours. She was nothing short of terrifying, you think even the older assassins in the guild would feel unnerved under her gaze. You weren't even sure what she actually was but it had to be something other, something ancient and powerful. She seems displeased at the look you give her, though you doubt she's unacquainted with seeing fear on people's faces, or bothered by it.

Amren narrows her eyes slightly before looking at the male. She studies him with an intensity that could make most fae run for their lives, makes you consider it, but the male doesn't seem to care, his eyes never leaving yours. “I hope you know what you're doing, boy.” She walks out of the room with no hesitation, leaving you alone with the male that walks your dreams once again.

You stare into each other's eyes for what feels like an eternity. Neither of you seem to find the right words. You know why you're having trouble finding them. Between getting caught stealing in his house and the turmoil going on inside you, you're surprised you've been managing to keep your composure at all. But you can't understand why he'd be in the same position as you. Could he also be haunted by dreams of you the same way you were of him?

Leaning forward in his chair, he says the same name you heard last night, the one who made your heart tighten painfully in your chest. You had been too confused and scared last night to even consider it but now you can clearly see he's using it to call you. He seems to think that's your name.

“That's not my name,” you manage through your dry throat, the words coming out so rough and low that you're sure he wouldn't have heard you if it weren't for the quiet in the room. Your answer seems to hurt him, his face drops, the sunlight that was shining through his skin seems to vanish, and you see his wings tighten behind him. Your own body seems to respond to it. You want to make him feel better but you don't know how or why.

He nods almost imperceptibly, as if accepting a fact he was unwilling to, and rises up from the chair, tensing slightly when you press yourself further into the headboard. He seems to try to ignore it as he moves to the nightstand, picking up the glass and handing it to you.

You eye the glass sitting in his brutally scarred hands, momentarily wondering what could have done such a thing if he healed up from a stab wound in mere hours. He senses your hesitation but simply holds it closer to you. You look up to meet his eyes again.

“It's not poisoned,” he offers, “I promise.” You're not entirely sure why but you trust him, or maybe you were just in desperate need of water, reaching up to take the glass from him and almost drinking it in one go. He seems at least pleased enough with this, moving back to sit in his chair. As you observe his movements, you almost miss the way the glass refills on its own. You blink at it, deciding it's not worth considering, and take another slow sip.

Since he doesn't start asking you questions, apparently content enough with watching you drink, and you start to get unusually shy under his intense gaze, you start asking them yourself, seeing this as your chance to know the male of your dreams.

“What's your name?” You play with the glass as you ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite your perilous situation and the tension between you.

“Azriel,” his deep voice cuts through the silence. You repeat it, goosebumps spreading over your body at the act. Nothing is making sense anymore but his name feels right on your tongue.

You say it one more time, letting it linger in your mind. There is something inside you trying to claw its way out at the sound. You can feel it now, can feel how wrong it feels, how wrong you feel. There was a growing pressure inside your head. You let go of the glass and watch it vanish into thin air before it has the chance to make contact with the covers.

The sensation that you've forgotten something really important is back. You look up at the male one more time, seeing he has moved closer to you and noting the worry in his gaze. He wasn't supposed to be worried about you, he's a stranger and you had just stabbed him a few hours ago. So why does it feel right for him to care? Tears line your eyelids, your hands shaking slightly at the strange feelings building inside you.

“I don't know you,” you whisper, more to yourself than him, “I feel like I should.”

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

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strawberrykidneystone · 1 month

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Fresh Out the Slammer I Know Who My First Call Will Be

stanley pines x fem! reader

summary: stanley needs to be bailed out. again. don't worry, he'll make it up to you! he swears!

a/n: i am not immune to the gravity falls renaissance,,, all 22 fingers iykyk

tags: smut, set the week before the twins come to gravity falls, reader is late 20s-early 30s, reader wears a skirt, pussy eating, cowgirl, spanking (like twice), creampie (wrap it before your tap it)

ao3 version

y/n stood at the counter of the police department once again, her arms crossed as she had to bail stan out.

again.

how many times has she have to do this? she didn't keep track anymore, yet she would still do it every time he called.

"hey sweets..." his sheepish voice would always ring out as he called to her from the small holding cell.

blubs grumbled something about this being a weekly occurrence as stan meekly came out of the cell, knowing he was going to be in the dog house tonight. stan quickly put his signature jewelry back on and rushed out in front of y/n and held the passenger side door of El Diablo open for her, putting on his best smile as she slid into her seat, her arms still crossed.

the ride home was quiet, the windows were rolled down and stanley glanced over every so often at y/n as the wind blew through her hair. god she was so beautiful, he didn't deserve her. she was always there for him, more than his own parents, more than his own brother, and he knew that every time he messed up like this she just got closer to leaving him like everyone else. he knows better, he knows he shouldn't think like this, and she gladly reassured him every time, but times like this in the deafening silence only being broken by the erratic purr of the engine, he couldn't help but get lost in his thoughts.

this time was somewhat of a last hurrah for stanley since he had the twins coming over. he stopped smoking his usual cigars and replaced all his beer with pitt, even giving y/n a small squirt gun to spray him every time he cursed, trying to get out of the habit before the impressionable 12-year-olds arrived for the summer.

when they arrived home, stan ran around el diablo once again and opened up y/n's door. she seemed less peeved than she was when she first arrived at the station, but she still kept quiet as she stepped out and walked into the mystery shack, stan trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

y/n sat at the edge of their shared bed and looked up at stan expectantly, an aura of annoyance surrounding her. she had one leg crossed over the other and arms crossed to match. "awe doll, don't look at me like that, this was the last time i swear!"

"the kids are coming next week stan! how do i know that this was really the last time?"

"let me prove it to you sweets, i promise on my mother that my act will be together for these kids,” he said holding one hand up and placing the other over his heart like an oath.

y/n frowned a little but gave the old man a curt nod, knowing how important their stay was to him and how much he's already been preparing already.

"lemme make it up to you doll," stan purred and got down on his knees with a little bit of exertion, crawling forward on his knees and gently prying her knees apart. he looked up at her with half-lidded eyes, pressing kisses to the inside of her knees with an exaggerated "mwah" each time along with his stubble scratching against her skin.

this made y/n crack a smile and reached a hand down to run her fingers through his hair, landing on the side of his face, "and how exactly are you going to do that stanley?"

he loved hearing his name from her mouth, he grinned up at her and tugged her closer by her thighs, causing her to sequel with her back landing on the bed, "oh i might have a few ideas doll."

stan pushed her skirt up around her hips and licked his lips, already seeing a wet spot on her panties, "all this just for me baby? you spoil me."

he leaned forward and licked a stripe up the soiled fabric, mouthing at her clothed pussy and reaching his hands around to grope her ass. he nuzzled his nose against her clit, inhaling her scent deeply and hearing a whine spill out from her, "stan stop teasing."

he muttered something incoherent about patience, but judging by the bulge in his pants, he didn't want to wait much longer either. stan hooked his thumbs through the sides of her underwear and with y/n lifting her hips up, slid them off with ease. he immediately dove in like a man starved, massaging his tongue against her sensitive nub and sucking every so often. moving his mouth down, his nose nudged against her clit, encouraging her to rub herself against it as he thrusted his tongue inside of her. she took the hint and grinded her hips against his nose, moaning at the new stimulation while being partially filled up, feeling his tongue rubbing against her walls.

stan groaned and pulled back panting, her slick all over the bottom half of his face, "can't take it anymore doll, need you to ride me."

she giggled and rolled her eyes, "alright, get on the bed old man."

she turned over on all fours to crawl further up on the bed, stan taking the opportunity to give her ass a playful smack, a small squeak falling from her lips. y/n sat back on her heels and took off her shirt, along with her bra. by the time she turned around, stan was comfortably lying with his back against the headboard, completely naked with his cock standing up high.

y/n shuffled on her knees over to him and straddled his thighs, stan looking up at her light she hung all the stars in the sky causing her to blush deeply. she took his cock into her hand and rubbed the tip in between her lower lips, stan salivating as he watched his precum mix with her own arousal with his hands quickly making their way to her hips. as she finally sank down on his length, both of them let out a sigh of pleasure as her warm walls engulfed him.

she took a moment to adjust to his length, allowing his hands to wander up her waist, squeezing her breasts in his big hands and brushing his thumbs over her nipples every so often. he leaned forward and sucked on her left nipple, teething softly but careful to not bite down too hard, switching to the other a short time later. while he was showing affection to her breasts, she ran her hands over his hairy shoulders and reached towards his upper back, running her nails just hard enough to leave a mark. she gave an experimental bounce, her breath hitching as he finally bottomed out inside of her. stan unlatched from her breasts and leaned back, his gripping her ass with a shit-eating grin, "you ready to ride toots?"

she let out a breathy laugh and put her hands on his beer gut, leaning forward slightly to steady herself, "i'd be more concerned about myself if i were you."

as he was about to respond with something snarky, she lifted herself almost completely off of him before sinking back down quickly. he moaned and leaned his head back, giving her a little support with her movements with his hands. stan smacked her ass as she found a steady rhythm, feeling her squeeze around him. "that's it, that's my good girl."

stan grabbed her hips and kept her in place, thrusting up into her with his feet pushing down into the mattress, watching her breasts bounce with each movement. y/n moaned and arched her back, reaching a hand down to rub her clit for more stimulation, "yes! right there, don't stop stan!"

stan kept with the pace he was at and could feel himself getting close, gritting his teeth, "where do you want it doll?"

"inside, please!"

he nodded and reached one of his calloused hands down to rub her clit, replacing her own hand as he continued to thrust inside of her as she moved with him. with the rough texture of his hand, y/n opened her mouth in a silent scream as she reached her peak with stan not far behind as he released his seed inside of her.

the two sat in a comfortable silence, only their heavy breathing filling the room. y/n looked down at him and smiled sleepily, affectionately tapping his chest, "good job keeping up oldie."

he snorted and put his hand behind his head, "'m sorry doll, it was one last hurrah. am i forgiven?"

y/n pretended to think and tapped her chin with her index finger, "hmm i don't know... yes of course, I'll always be there to bail you out stan, you know that."

a soft smile rested on his face as he took the hand on his chest, kissing each fingertip, "i know you will doll, and I'm damn lucky to have you."

she leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, grinning like a cheshire cat suddenly, "i took your bail money from your buried cash box."

"you WHAT-"

a/n: ty for reading!!! also it's my fanfic and i'll write as many run on sentences as i want!!!

#stanley pines x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines #stan pines x reader #stan pines smut #stanley pines smut #stan pines #grunkle stan #grunkle stanley

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flowerandblood · 2 months

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Sacrifices (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, virginity loss, oral sex, smut, fluff, sexual tension, obsession ]

[ description: Finally, after months of waiting, his beloved, younger sister becomes his wife. The task that awaits him as an older brother is not to cause her pain during the beautiful act in which they will finally become one. ]

Part 4 (the last) of the Appearances, it can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

"Don't be afraid, hāedar (little sister)."

This was easier said than done.

The day of their nuptials, although it was the fulfilment of their dreams and hopes, was also a time full of terror and humiliation for them.

Aegon made sure to speak his thoughts aloud about how his younger brother would not be able to please his sister and that it was him she should give her wedding night to.

"With one eye, he won't even know where to put it." Aegon sneered, taking a deep sip from his cup. Their mother gave him a quick, rebuking glance.

"Aegon. That is enough."

The humiliation he felt burned his loins like fire, however, what really frightened him was her pale face, her hands clenched on her beautiful green dress, the field flowers pinned into her hair.

She looked so beautiful and innocent that he was afraid to touch her, barely brushing her tiny, delicate hands as they danced.

He hated courtly courtesy, and the steps he had to take to the rhythm of the music seemed forced and clumsy, yet he was doing it for her, just for her.

Although it was their wedding day, she was sad and tired.

To his joy, with the help of his mother, he managed to dissuade his brother and his friends from participating in their intimate act. When the chamber door closed behind them, they were left alone.

He was relieved when her body clung to his: it was not a gesture of desire, but of fear and uncertainty, as if she had been waiting for hours and could not do it because it would be indecent behaviour.

Embracing her husband.

She was his wife.

"Lēkia (big brother)." She muttered, sinking into his linen white shirt, her body covered only by her nightgown.

His arms involuntarily embraced her petite figure, sinking her face into his chest, her scent, her closeness making him feel a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

"I'm here. No one's going to hurt you." He whispered, his full lips placing a loud, soft kiss on the top of her head.

Gods, how he loved her.

Her, only her.

Love was a weakness and he knew it, and she was the only person he wanted and needed to be vulnerable in front of.

"Are you afraid?" She asked involuntarily, looking up at him with her big, dark eyes that she had inherited from their mother.

His broad hand rose to her plump cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb, looking at her with his lips parted, feeling a squeeze in his heart.

What should he answer?

What if she thought he was weak, that Aegon was right?

That he wouldn't be able to please her?

"What do you mean?" He muttered, looking into the depths of her dark, shining eyes.

"Have you ever lain with a woman? Before our betrothal. You can tell me, I'll understand." She whispered in a trembling voice, and he swallowed hard, feeling the cold sweat on his back.

He didn't know if it was a good idea to tell her, but he didn't want to begin their marriage with a lie.

"I did, issa dōna rūklon (my sweet flower). Once. It was Aegon's idea, not mine. On my thirteenth Name Day." He choked out with difficulty, feeling shame and fear at the thought that she might have rejected him, found him disgusting, unworthy of her affection.

She nodded, to his surprise looking as if she felt relieved, her trembling hand found his, their fingers intertwined in a soft, tender embrace.

"You promised me that from this day to the end of your days you would be mine alone." She whispered, and he nodded, feeling his erection swell and pulse in his breeches at her words, reminding him of the vow they had made to each other in the Great Sept.

"Yes, sweet sister. I am yours and you are mine." He sighed, leaning over her, in some natural, simple reflex, letting their lips cling to each other in a soft, warm kiss.

They both purred with contentment, carefully grasping each other's cheeks in their hands, stroking the skin of their faces with their fingers, letting their wet, rough tongues lick tentatively with the quiet click of their saliva.

"– ah – mmm –" She hummed as one of his arms hugged her waist, forcing her body to slam against his, his impatient cock pushing against her belly.

"– can you feel it, hāedar? –" He exhaled, looking down between their bodies, watching the bulge under the material of his breeches pressing against her body. "– can you feel what you're doing to me? – how much I crave to feel you? –"

She looked at him with a hazy, dreamy, hot gaze from which he felt a squeeze in his lower abdomen, her glistening, puffy lips parted wide.

"– I want it, brother – make it feel good –" She whispered, and he needed no more encouragement. She squealed in surprise, throwing her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her up, holding her beneath her buttocks, walking with her towards their large marital bed now standing in his chamber.

"– easy, little one – easy –" He murmured with a smile, touched by her innocent, involuntary behaviour, in the candlelight seeing how much her cheeks had blushed with emotion.

"– will it hurt, Aemond? – mum said it would –" She muttered as he laid her down on the soft, clean bedding, apparently revealing to him at last the reason for her sadness and anxiety all day.

He sighed heavily, climbing onto the bed, reading dozens of books before their wedding just to make sure he did everything he could to spare her suffering.

"– there's a thin wall inside you that I'm going to have to break – during this moment, you'll be able to feel discomfort and sting, but when it's behind us, I swear you'll feel nothing but pleasure –" He whispered in a trembling voice, spreading her thighs in front of him, letting the material of her nightgown expose her bare thighs.

She blinked, looking at him in disbelief, surprised, apparently, by his extensive knowledge on the subject, and breathed out quietly, as if trying to relax.

"– we'll start with what's familiar to you – we need to make you wet and willing for your brother – hm? –" He murmured, cocking his head, trailing his hands from her knees to her thighs. She nodded quickly, wriggling impatiently, clearly now more excited than frightened, shivering on her skin in the places where he ran his palms.

A sweet sigh of surprise left her lips as he drew her closer to him and leaned in, sinking his face into her heat: her folds were pink and swollen, soft and tender as silk. His sister smelled of bath, of fragrant oils and herself, of her own sweat – he murmured at the thought, the tip of his tongue running over her small, swollen bud, making her fingers clench in his hair, her head thrown back.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, rolling her hips back and forth, impatient, wanting more and harder. He, however, decided to take his time and explore her womanhood, the space around her pearl, her tight slit, which he teased with slow, lazy flicks of his tongue.

He felt the taste of her moisture on his tongue and grinned under his breath as he listened to her moans, feeling her body writhing before him in convulsions, his fingers digging warningly into the plush structure of her thigh.

"– lay still –" He hissed, finally forcing his tongue between her fleshy, hot walls, licking and rubbing the small spot just above her opening, teasing her bud with his nose, all swollen from his caresses.

"– Aemond – Aemond, Aemond, Aemond –" She sobbed in front of him, chasing her peak, but he knew he couldn't let her come.

Not yet.

He stopped his treatments and raised himself up on his elbows, looking at her with satisfaction, wiping his face with his hand. Her long, dark hair was spread around her head, her lips parted wide in a heavy breath, her gaze hot and full of desire.

"– I want more – husband –" She mumbled, and he sighed and nodded, sliding the material of his breeches lower, releasing his hard, long manhood, dripping from his precum.

Husband.

"– show me your breasts, sweet wife –" He commanded, and she drew in a loud breath and quickly slid the material of her nightgown off her shoulders, revealing her bare chest to him.

Something about her appearance, about how different she was from Madam, aroused him even more – her plump breasts with their sweet, hard nipples were more girlish, more innocent, more lovely.

His.

His hand squeezed his swollen cock at the base with sure, quick jerks as he leaned in, sinking and clamping his mouth on her little nipple, beginning to suck involuntarily as if he were a baby.

He had never heard her let out a similar moan before, so helpless and loud, her hands immediately pressed his face closer to her breast as if she wanted to melt into one with him.

"– b-brother – what are you – ah –" She mewled and shuddered as he directed the thick head of his cock against her leaking, hot slit and began to slowly push.

She gasped, throwing her head back, clearly not having known a similar sensation in her entire life – he opened her with difficulty and was met with resistance, her moan of discomfort telling him that this was the moment.

He released her breast and lifted himself up on his arm higher, to her face, wanting to look into her eyes, his nose pressed against her cheek.

"– I need to push harder now – this might hurt a little – spread your thighs wider – yes, just like that – ready? –" He asked and she nodded, her eyes big with desire and terror.

He cradled her head to the hollow of his neck, slid out a little and with one sure thrust hit something deep inside her, from which she cried out loudly and squealed in pain, her fingers tightening on the material of his shirt.

Fuck, he hadn't made it.

He had to do it again, harder.

"– just one more time – one more time and it will be over –" He whispered in a trembling voice, her walls almost painfully tight against his cock, clenching in panic.

He grasped her buttocks in his hands, pulling them apart with her whine of discomfort, and with one violent thrust he finally broke deeper into her warm interior. He felt her burst into sobs, her legs quivering all over in his embrace, her fingers clenched painfully hard against his skin.

"– stop – don't move – don't move –" She mumbled pleadingly, and he froze motionless, panting heavily, feeling the sting in his heart, for some reason feeling like crying himself. His lips placed warm, tender kisses on her temple and cheek, his broad hand simply stroking her hair, wanting to reassure her.

"– I know, I'm so sorry – I know I promised it would be easier – but the worst is behind us –" He promised, and she swallowed heavily, feeling how hard his erection pulsed inside her.

"– it still hurts –" She confessed, and he nodded.

"– we'll wait until it stops – we'll just embrace and kiss until the discomfort passes – hm? –" He asked in a shaky voice, afraid that she would reject him now, tell him to stop, that she didn't want to see him, that she would never let him touch her again.

She, however, nodded and looked at him with a trusting and affectionate gaze from which his lips, swollen with desire, melted with hers into one. They kissed loudly and unashamedly, their tongues dancing with each other deep in their throats, fighting for dominance, their hands stroking their hair and bodies.

Indeed, he felt her walls stop pressing so hard against him, her breathing calmed, tears of fear stopped flowing down her face. Tentatively, he slid deeper into her, and she only sighed, combing through his hair, without however uttering a word.

"– may I? –" He asked in a quivering voice, feeling his cock about to explode with desire. She looked up at him, her lips parted sweetly, her face all red from emotion and tears.

"– yes – just – be gentle – She mumbled, and he pressed his forehead against hers, with a low groan slowly and firmly sliding all the way into her. He looked at her face, at her eyelashes glistening from her tears, at her sweet red lips, and thought he had to do this to her.

"– sister –" He exhaled and began to pound into her, shyly and shallowly at first, thinking only of how tight, warm, wet she was, that he was just taking her maidenhood and her, what was rightfully his from the day she was born.

"– brother –" She muttered, throwing her head back, clearly feeling the opposite of discomfort at the moment.

"– 'm going to accelerate now –" He whispered, gripping her hips in his hands, imposing a sharp, fast rhythm on her, slamming into her the way he'd always dreamed of doing, the loud slaps of their skin building his way to fulfilment.

She moaned loudly, throwing her legs over his back, her hands on his neck pressed him closer, wanting to unite with him, to become one as they were always meant to be. They kissed passionately and deeply, then again and again as her hips began to rock, seeking a shared rhythm with him, her sweet little cunt began to squeeze him, soaking him all over.

"– ñuhon (mine) –" He exhaled between the aggressive, sticky, slick dance of their teeth and tongues, their bodies entwined in an aggressive, close embrace like a vine.

"– aōhon (yours) – iksan aōhon, lēkia (I'm yours, big brother), oh fuck, fuck, fuck! –" She cursed far too sweetly and innocently, throwing her head back in euphoria, going before his eyes through the kind of release she had never before experienced in his presence, the great wet spot under their buttocks making him lick his lips lustfully.

"– that's right – I intend to fulfil my duty to you as a husband every day, ābrazȳrys (wife) – ah – fuck, yes –" He sighed, feeling a tightening in his stones, only to feel a wonderful, stunning relief a moment later and finally fill her with his seed, as he had always been destined to do.

"– gods –" He exhaled, falling on top of her, their hands clenched on their bodies, refusing to let go, their breaths hitched and heavy, full of fulfilment.

"– I want to see you bare, valzȳrys (husband) –" She mumbled out in shame, and he hummed, for some reason pleased with her request.

At the thought that he hadn't discouraged her from their intimacy, that she wanted it as much as he did.

As he pulled off his shirt and breeches she slipped off the material of her nightgown, remaining unashamedly naked before him, sweet, beautiful, his.

His little sister.

He drew her to him, placing tender, loud kisses full of affection on her bare skin, her nimble fingers pulling at the ribbon material at the back of his head, releasing the front strands of his hair.

He looked at her and smiled, thinking with pride that he was her husband and she was his wife, that every night from that day until his death she would spend at his side, in his bed, bearing his children, his inheritance.

They clung to each other like little children, sinking into each other's embrace, stroking each other's naked bodies, kissing the skin of each other's sweaty faces, red with emotion, knowing that no one would ever separate them again.

Before the face of men and gods, they were one.

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