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darthannie · 9 months

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thursday night out

2.1k / neil lewis x f!reader

Pairing: Neil Lewis x f!reader Summary: Neil can't sleep and neither can you. A late night conversation leads to revelations. Warnings: 18+, minors dni. fluff, no use of y/n, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort if you squint really hard, Neil cries because of course a/n: I'm a lil rusty y'all but I had to take matters into my own hands.

You were absolutely restless in bed. You had come home from the bar your friend Jonathan worked at, Balanza, after needing some liquid comfort and a close friend. He was one of four. Your little group was all you needed, but more recently it was feeling like three. You, Neil, Lucien, and Jonathan were basically inseparable as you all emerged into adulthood together.

Now, you all found a little bit of community at Gumshoe Video, your and Neil’s video store. It wasn’t much but it was what you and Neil cared about the most. It was your baby, so to speak. Yet another thing that kept you and Neil stuck to each other’s sides.

Neil was special. He had gone through it all with you. When you were in high school together you both skipped school dances and watched movies all night long while getting drunk on whatever was close by. You had comforted each other through numerous breakups, spent many long nights taking care of each other when the other was sick, and now ran a video store together. Growing up, your parents would make jokes about how you would end up together. Neil thought that was the funniest thing ever. “What a cliche.”, Neil would say. You would always laugh and agree but deep down, there was a piece of you that resented his indifference. It was only natural that you both felt something for each other, right? Neil was your rock and you were his.

But nevertheless, Neil was seeing someone. At least you thought he was. It wasn’t totally clear what was going on, but you knew when he wasn’t at the video store he was running around with her. That left you, Lucien, and Jonathan to hold down the fort. This always happened when Neil got involved with a girl and it always left you feeling… odd. You never wanted to admit it but you had been in love with him for years. Brushing off that feeling was the only way you could disconnect.

This constant yearning was exhausting but you just wanted to see Neil happy. Only now, you couldn’t tell if he was happy. He had been a bit secretive about the girl he was seeing. If you knew Neil, he was in over his head. Whenever you saw him at the shop he seemed drained and a bit stressed, but he never stayed long. He’d say, “I’m gonna go in about an hour. We’re getting dinner tonight, I think?” I think, was the key phrase. His remarks were rooted in confusion. Maybe his status with this mystery girl wasn’t so solid. You had hoped, for his sake, something good would come out of this. You couldn’t bear to see him hurt again.

After some overthinking, you were finally getting a bit drowsy. Right as you were about to drift off your ringtone shocked you awake. You answered it before you could check the name and heard a familiar voice on the other line. “Hey”, Neil said. “Can I come over? I can’t sleep” The clock on your nightstand read 1:34 AM. “Yeah sure what’s u-“

He hung top on you and within a couple of seconds, there was a knock at the door.

You scurried out of bed and headed towards the door. You weren’t prepared for what met you on the other side of the door. It was Neil, of course, but he looked sad. His eyes were puffy and red. He looked like he had been crying for hours. He looked exhausted. It took you a second before you realized you had been staring. You moved to the side and silently gestured for him to come in.

He went right past you and towards the couch, face-planting into the cushions. He groaned and you stood over him for a moment before squatting down to his level. “Neil?” You heard a sniffle come from him and he turned to face you. Even now, he was just as gorgeous as every other time you saw him. Handsome in a classic sense. You fought every urge not to brush the hair away from his eyes but eventually, you gave in. You reached out and he closed his eyes after feeling your touch. “Neil, what’s going on?”

“Jonathan and I got into a fight. Well, not like a fight fight. We just argued a bit and I got pissed and left.”

You removed your hand from his face. That was the last thing you expected to hear. There was never any conflict in your friend group that went beyond friendly film debates, but you were waiting for the shoe to drop. You had spent your time at Balanza tonight blabbing to Jonathan about how annoying It was that Neil was never around whenever he started seeing someone. He pushed you about it you admitted it was because you had liked him for years. Jonathan laughed “Well no duh! I could smell that shit from a mile away. You guys already treat each other like you’re married.” And he was right. There were things you and Neil did that felt like you were married. Apart from movie nights, you had spent time cooking dinner for each other, taken a couple of trips together, and confided in each other about everything. Your bond was unbreakable.

You were thinking about what to say when Neil interrupted your fractured thought process.

“I was at Balanza tonight, thought I’d go in for a quick drink, you know? And I got to talkin’ with Jonathan and he mentioned how you had been there a bit before me and how I’d just missed you. I thought was weird because you always told me if you were going so we could go together. Plus you’d told me you were going straight home after closing up the store. But anyway, he started joking about you and me. I mean, what the fuck right?”

You briefly paused before responding, “What did he say about us exactly?”

Neil sat up before he began his story, gesturing as he began, “He made a quip asking where my ball and chain was and I said “What ball and chain?” and he said you. It kinda took me aback. And really annoyed me because you would never be a ball and chain, you know. And somehow he started going on about how I should maybe be a better friend.” Your heart sank. He continued, “He said I should be more “mindful” about our relationship and I thought what the fuck, you know. I know he doesn’t really have a way with words but, god, how cryptic. Who says that? Especially about us. We’re close, right? Super close! No one really gets it!” Subconsciously or not he now had your hand in his.

“Our friendship is special you know. It means the world to me and to have that questioned made me a bit upset. Then it really got me thinking. Have I not been paying attention to you lately? Then, I started thinking about all the things I’ve been doing recently. Spending time with you know who, which by the way isn’t happening anymore.”

In all honestly, you didn’t really know who. You’d only seen her a couple of times. You interrupted him, asking what he meant.

“I broke things off with her. She was, frankly, insane, and as fun as it was it was just that. Fun. Unsustainable. Unstable. Plus, I was barely meeting up with the group. Fewer movie nights. Less time at the store. Less time together. And I thought, fuck maybe I have been a shit friend. And now that I don’t have her in my life I feel like I can actually see clearly.”

He finally took a pause and looked you in the eyes. You were stunned. Neil was always a talker but it was rare he got this candid about his relationships. When you were younger, he’d tell you almost everything, but now he rarely ever spoke about his escapades and you were grateful for it. Just when you thought it was over, he continued.

“So, I was so fed up with Jonathan I didn’t even finish my beer. I just left. I got home and tried everything to shake the guilty feeling off of me but nothing worked. I did a- a cold shower and even made some tea. I tried to watch City Lights, but I couldn’t.”

That was your and Neil’s favorite film. You had watched it the first time when you stayed home from junior prom. You both started off by doing voices for the characters and by the end you were both touched by the film. Ever since then, that was the film you both watched when you couldn’t think of anything better for movie night. It became a ritual that wordlessly brought you closer.

“I got really restless and upset. So, I thought I would just call you.” He broke eye contact for a moment, and you could’ve sworn he looked at your lips before making eye contact again.

Your voice was light, “But you got here before you called.”

He shrugged, “I just got in the car and started driving.”

You chuckled at his response. “Well you know you’re always welcome.” He smiled at you before he let it falter. He seemed to hesitate before he continued talking. The shoe was about to drop.

“ I, ah. There was something I left out of the story.”

You swallowed before asking, “What?”

“Jonathan told me about… you and… Probably not everything but he told me.” It dropped.

There was a moment of silence as the tension between the two of you grew. Your world was crashing down. You’d have a word with Jonathan soon, call him a jackass for betraying your trust. You wanted to speak and deny everything, but nothing came out.

He spoke first. “How long?”

Without hesitation, you replied “Years.”

He sat back and ran his fingers through his hair. He muttered what you thought was fuck under his breath, but you preferred not to listen. All you could feel was the pain in your chest as you prepared to have your heart broken. Tears started to fall before you could stop them and a small whimper left you. He wiped your tears away and leaned forward again. You were now sitting on the ground as he sat over you on the couch. Neil felt a couple tears of his own begin to fall. You both sat for a moment. His silence made it hurt even more. You were ready for his rejection to slap you in the face. The sting would last long after, you thought. You heard him speak up softly, “So you… you feel it too?”

You hesitated, “Feel what exactly?”

He laughed at himself and clarified, “You know this, um, tugging feeling in your heart when it feels like it’s trying to tell you something.”

You avoided his gaze, “Yeah.”

You looked down at your hands. Your fingers were now interlaced with his. Space had closed between the two of you and it was getting hard to breathe. Your heart raced and you swore his did too. He brought his free hand to your face, resting it on your cheek. You looked down at it, foreign on your skin. You looked back at him and searched his face for any sign that this was some sick joke. All you found was sincerity. He was willing and ready to risk years of friendship on the off chance that you felt the same as he did. He unraveled his hand from yours and placed it softly on your neck as he pulled you in, careful not to make any sudden movements.

The kiss was soft, at first. As it deepened you placed your hand on his chest, not to push him away, but to feel if his heart was beating as fast as yours. It soon became breathless, both of you refusing to break for air. Your fingers ended up in his hair. You felt his tongue on your bottom lip. He was testing you and you gave in. It was feverish. You both moved in sync until, finally, you both pulled away to get some air. The room was spinning. You were kneeling after he had pulled you up. He pulled you up further and sat you down on the couch. He pulled you close to him and just held you, hoping to feel as close as possible to you. You both felt like you’d just won the lottery. He traced your arm with his fingers. You looked up at him and he was already looking at you. You slowly broke out into a smile and he did too. Soon enough you were both giggling and chuckling. It was pure bliss. He leaned in to give you another kiss. There was no testing the waters this time. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“What took us so long?”, he sighed.

You whispered back, ”I don’t know.”

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #neil lewis fluff #watching the detectives fanfic #neil lewis x you #i proofread this but no one is perfect #first fic in so long ahhhhh #cillian murphy x reader #neil lewis x f!reader #annie writes

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stigmalarity · 10 months

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Crimson

miguel o'hara x f!reader, fluff, smut, blood drinking, vampiric qualities, fingering ☆ crossposted to ao3

———————————————————————————

Hey, everything okay?

Call me back when you can.

I’m getting really worried — I know you weren’t feeling well last night, can you just let me know if you’re alive?

I’m coming over.

You let out a sigh, scrolling through your messages to Miguel over the past twelve hours. He’s not a big texter, but it’s odd for him to go this long without responding to you. When you’d seen him last night you could tell something was up, but he’d just waved you off after you’d asked if he was feeling alright.

He hadn’t only looked exhausted, he seemed seriously on edge, his responses stiff and almost strained. The two of you hadn’t planned much for the day, seeing as he was currently on “vacation” with Jess and Peter B. holding down the fort at HQ. Something about mandatory quarterly time off to protect the spiders’ mental health. You’d thought it was a nice policy.

It wasn’t long after you’d arrived at his apartment above the HQ that you noticed how dazed Miguel was, movements sluggish as he grabbed the remote from the coffee table, responding to you only after you’d had to repeat yourself.

After the third instance of this, you got a bit concerned. “You tired, baby? I wouldn’t mind a nap before we start the movie.”

He pauses, sighing. “I think I’m getting sick,” he said, running a palm over his face.

“Oh no, really? You sure?” you asked with concern, shifting toward him on the couch with one hand raised to press against his forehead. Miguel hardly ever got sick. In fact, you thought it wasn’t even possible.

Miguel pulled away from you, just out of your reach. “Don’t get too close. I don’t want you to catch whatever it is,” he said. “Honestly, you should just go home. We can watch the movie another day.”

You frowned, then. “I don’t care about the movie, baby. Have you eaten at all today?” you asked.

Miguel’s guilty pause was answer enough.

“I can stay over,” you declared. “I’ll sleep on the couch, so you won’t get me sick. I don’t want you to have to do everything by yourself while you’re like this.

An odd look had crossed his face, then. Anxious, almost pained. “I’m not a child.”

Though he hadn’t snapped at you, the words had come out shockingly cold. “I can take care of myself. You don’t have to mother me.”

That took you by surprise, your eyes going wide. It was unlike Miguel to take that tone with you. “I-I’m not trying to-“ you stuttered, hurt bleeding into your tone. “I’m just worried,” you said, looking down at your hands in your lap.

His eyes softened as he took in the furrow of your brow. Another sigh. He sounded so tired.

“I’m sorry, I know,” he said, reaching his hand out to lace his fingers through yours. “I’m alright, querida. I really don’t want to get you sick. Just go home, okay? I’ll text you.”

You gave him a long look, then. He was paler than usual, dark rings under his eyes looking more pronounced as evidence to his exhaustion. You hated the thought of leaving him alone like that, but you didn’t want to push him.

“Okay, just-,” you sighed. “Just stay hydrated, and keep me updated on how you’re feeling. Call me if you need anything.”

He nodded, trailing after you to walk you to the door. “Text me when you get home. I love you,” he said, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to the top of your head.

Now, you were standing in front of Miguel’s door, a plastic bag full of supplies in your hand. Since you weren’t sure what he was sick with, you’d brought a few different medicines, a large water bottle, empanadas and some pozole. You decide that if he gets upset, you’ll just drop everything off and go back home. Though you might just force him to accept your care, depending on how ill he is.

You take another breath before pushing the door open.

“Miguel?” you call, looking around the entranceway. All the lights are off, save for the glow of the TV in the bedroom. You kick your shoes off, walking towards the light. A quick glance into the kitchen tells you that he has either been well enough to do his dishes (and not text you back), or that he just hasn’t eaten at all. Both possibilities worry you for different reasons.

When you reach the doorway to the bedroom, you finally spot your boyfriend swaddled underneath the comforter, seemingly out cold. The TV’s volume is low enough to have lulled him to sleep, and you can’t help the fondness you feel for him when you see the Ghibli movie he’s put on.

You pad towards the bed, carefully placing the bag on the nightstand and taking a seat beside him on the edge of the mattress. “Miguel?” you call gently, smoothing away the stray hairs matted against his sweaty hairline. The heat emanating from his skin makes your eyes go wide. “Shit, you’re burning up, baby.”

You lean forward, digging through the plastic bag for the cooling towelettes you’d picked up at the drugstore. Miguel shifts behind you as you search, the mattress sinking under his weight. By the time you turn your head he’s already sitting up, arms snaking around your waist to hug you from behind.

“Why’re you here?” he murmurs weakly. “Told you I could take care of myself.” There’s no malice in his tone. Just him, nosing into the side of your neck.

“You call this taking care of yourself?” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lay back down, Miguel.” You’ve got the cooling towelettes in your hand now, ready to slap one on his forehead and then maybe slap him for making you worry so much.

“You smell so good,” he sighs dreamily, tugging you backwards so that you’re practically in his lap. His grip is surprisingly strong for how ill he seems to be. “Shouldn’t have come. You should go home.”

“Stop hugging me before you tell me to go home,” you respond. But he just pulls you with him as he leans back against the headboard, pressing little kisses along your neck and awakening butterflies in your stomach. It’s so warm and comfortable having him pressed against your back that you nearly forget why you came in the first place.

“Hey! Come on, Miguel. Stop being weird. I thought you didn’t want to get me sick?” you frown, smacking lightly at his arms. “I brought medicine and stuff. We have to get your fever down.”

“It’s not going to help. M’not sick like that,” he slurs, exhaustion tinging his voice.

“What do you mean, you’re not sick like that? You have a fever, baby,” you say, twisting at the waist to press the towelette to his forehead. “You gotta drink some water next.”

“Don’t need water.”

“Stop being difficult,” you sigh.

“I’m not trying to be,” he says, breath hot at your neck. “You smell so good.”

“You said that already,” you say, cheeks heating.

He may be sick, but it’s never taken much for Miguel to get you flustered. You’re feeling the effect he has on you especially hard now, with his towering form swelteringly hot and wrapped around you like this.

You sigh as his hands slide underneath the hem of your shirt, rough hands skirting along the skin of your waist.

“Can you just let me take care of you, please? At least take some of the medicine I bought you -”

“M’not sick like that,” he sighs, switching to open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat that have your breath shallowing.

“You’re repeating yourself again,” you murmur, though you’re not really focused on what you’re saying as he hums against your neck.

“Miguel,” you start again, sliding a hand along the back of his neck and threading your fingers through the hair at his nape. “You keep saying weird stuff. What are you talking about?”

Miguel shudders behind you as your nails graze his skin, and his forehead drops to your shoulder. “You love me, right?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

“You know I do.”

“Mmm, need you to say it.”

“I love you, Miguel.”

“You wanna take care of me?” He asks, lips pressing against your shoulder blade.

“Any way I can,” you whisper. You have the inkling feeling that he expects you to respond badly to whatever he’s about to tell you, but whatever it is, you know you’ll be with him for the long run.

“M’not sick with the flu,” he slurs, turning his head against your shoulder to meet your gaze. He’s still so handsome, even like this.

“Can’t get you sick. I’m- m’thirsty,” he breathes, warm breath huffing over your skin.

“For blood.”

“Blood?” you ask, brows furrowing. “Like, like you want to kill someone or-”

“It’s a spider thing. My specific genetic makeup gives me more… vampiric qualities,” he interrupts, though a light smile stretches across his pallid face at your assumption.

“M’sorry I- I should have told you from the start,” he adds. It looks exhausting for him to even get the words out, but to add even one more shred of context while he’s in this state, he’ll do it. “I usually have a stock of blood bags on-hand, but there was a situation in the med bay. They needed it more than me. It’s why I’ve been off for a few days. With no blood, my powers are on low output.”

You pause, absorbing the information. He has no reason to lie to you.

“O-okay,” you say.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” you repeat. “Do you know when they’ll have-”

You freeze when another violent shudder rips through him, and both of you are reminded of the reason why he’s told you all this in the first place.

“Miguel, you can drink from me, right?” You ask gently, cupping his face in your palms. He’s getting even warmer, you think, watching a drop of sweat slide down his temple. “C-can you just bite me? Does it work like that?”

He can only hum an affirmative, brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut at the awful lurching in his belly.

“Okay- okay baby, go ahead,” you say, peeling your shirt off and tossing it aside as you turn back around and bring a hand up to the back of his neck, guiding him into yours.

His mouth hovers over your neck, warm breath whispering over your skin. “You trust me?” he mumbles weakly.

“Yes,” you respond hastily, tilting your neck for him as he presses a gentle, lingering kiss to your skin. “Yes, of course.”

That’s all he needs to hear. His mouth opens wide, and he bites.

You jerk as pain blooms along your pulse point, but Miguel’s arms hold you in place, four little incisions from his fangs drawing blood to the surface. Then he sucks, audibly swallowing down a mouthful of your blood, your fingers tightening in his hair at the sensation. It had hurt when he’d bitten you, but now… you’re not so sure.

“It- it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” you whisper, loosening your grip on his hair and combing through it in apology. “This’ll make you feel better right? T-take as much as you need.”

Miguel moans against your throat at your go-ahead. For a few moments you’re stiff, avoiding any movement that could jostle his fangs in your neck. He uses his hands to soothe you, resuming their movement against your skin, palms running up and down your sides in a gentle caress.

In moments you’re feeling warm all over, loose and comfortable in Miguel’s arms. The feeling of his feverish hands on you is so nice, every sensation heightened though you’ve gotten so lax — like there’s nothing you can do but take what he gives you and feel.

You’re surprised at how quickly the pain completely subsides, your senses focusing in on the feeling of his hands on your skin and the pleasurable heat spreading outwards from the bite. That sensation you’d picked up when he’d first bitten you – it’s clearer now, making your mind hazy. His venom.

—

Miguel lets his eyes flutter closed as he finally tastes your blood. He’s always loved the scent of you, but your taste is so much more concentrated, sends his mind to mush.

It had never been this difficult for him to curb his thirst for you in the past. For all the years he’s known you, he’d never needed to push you away like last night to keep from biting you. The throbbing in his gums had been so painful then, the scent of your skin so near. Even now, the conscious part of him feels guilty for biting you without a more extensive explanation. This isn’t how he’d wanted you to find out, but the euphoria of finally quenching his thirst far outweighs his hesitance to continue.

You’re feeling the effects of his venom now, he’s sure of it. He can feel it under his lips, your pulse slowing beneath your skin as you relax into him. He’s drinking slow, hyper aware of how much he’s taking. He wants to make this last so that he can show you that it isn’t something to be afraid of.

His eyelids lift, dark eyes looking down at his hands splayed across your skin. The sight that greets him is tempting; your skirt is rucked up around your thighs, the fabric just barely covering what lies underneath. The straps of your bra had fallen down your shoulders in your haste to pull him towards your neck, and he takes a deep breath through his nose as his gaze roves over the swell of your chest underneath the lacy edge.

He can’t see your face at this angle, but he knows your body. He knows how needy you’re getting, soft pants echoing in the quiet room as you rub your thighs together under his gaze. His venom has you the same as him, after all — achy and wanting.

A different kind of thirst plagues him now, one that has his cock throbbing where it’s pressed up against your ass. And with the taste of your blood coating his tongue – making his head spin, he thinks he might go mad from how badly he wants you.

His hands leave your waist, skirting up over your belly to reach your chest. Gently, he tugs the cups of your bra down, bringing both his hands to your tits and squeezing. The moan you let out when he tweaks your nipples is so wanton that he can’t help but echo you.

“Sensitive,” you breathe. “Feels good.”

I know, he thinks. And he’s hoping to make it feel even better.

He drops a hand down to your thighs, sliding his palm lazily along your skin as he eases them open. You’re so pliant, spreading your legs wide so that he can feel the softness of your inner thigh beneath your skirt. You really are so sensitive, breathing out a soft sound as his fingers skate upwards until he grazes the hem of your panties, teasing.

“More, Miguel,” you whine. “Please, want more.”

And who is he to deny you?

He takes one last gulp before pulling away from your neck, licking blood from his lips. He’s taken enough for now. What he really wants is to see how your body reacts to his venom – how much harder he can make you cum while you’re under its effects.

“You’re so wet, amor,” he marvels, finally sliding his fingers over your covered slit and feeling the wetness soaking through your underwear.

You whine as he brings his digits to your clit, rubbing little circles to the bud over the fabric while his free hand wraps gently around your throat. “How are you feeling?” he asks carefully.

“So good, Miguel,” you murmur hazily. “Feels amazing.”

“Does it?” he asks carefully, licking away at the blood oozing from the bite.

You nod against his chest, and a little mewl escapes you when he presses his fingers in just a bit harder. “M’so sensitive.”

“It’s my venom,” he says. “It’s supposed to make you let your guard down — stop you from struggling.”

“Not that you are,” he adds, huffing a soft laugh against your skin.

Your head lolls back against his shoulder as he continues playing with your clit. You’re so cute that he can hardly resist dipping his head, sweetly brushing his nose against yours before meeting your mouth. You’re so eager, sighing into the kiss and reaching your hand up to his cheek, pulling him closer despite the coppery tang of your blood coating his tongue.

He’s no better off, on a high after finally satisfying the thirst that had him run ragged for days. Any other time he would have touched you slowly, running his hands and his lips over your skin before reaching this point, but all he can think of is you. He can feel his cock spilling pre into his sweats, but the press of your ass against him is enough to relieve some of the tension. All he wants now is to make you cum hard, and to make you cum fast.

He can tell that you’re getting close, lashes brushing against his cheek and rhythmic little pants breaching your lips as you grind backwards into his lap. You’ve still got one hand on the back of his neck, and he can feel your nails giving him crescent-shaped bite marks of his own.

The taste of your blood is still fresh on his tongue, but he already wants another bite — wants to feel the way your pulse jumps under his lips and your blood rushes into his mouth when you cum. And once he’s had his fill, he’ll fuck you all boneless and lazy into the mattress, if you want it. You won’t have to lift a finger. He has to pay you back for taking care of him, after all.

You whine as his fingers leave your clit to wrap around the waistband of your underwear. “Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, tugging the lace down and cooing praise into your ear as you lift your hips for him.

“Good girl, ángel. Being so good for me,” he says against your lips, dropping your underwear to the ground before bringing his hand back to your pussy to spread your folds open for him. His cock throbs at the sight of your little hole fluttering around nothing. He’ll make sure to fill it up for you soon enough.

You whine as the hand on your throat moves to your jaw, tilting your neck just a bit further for him so he can lap at the bite mark there.

“You taste so sweet, querida. Will you be okay if I keep going?” he asks, fingers rolling over your bare clit while he waits for you to answer. Some part of him is still hesitant, still wants to make sure you’re alright with him like this.

“Y-yeah, please, Miguel — it felt so good before.”

He hides his smile in the curve of your throat, nosing lovingly into your skin at your response. He’s always happy making you feel good, but this time it’s different. He’s not just giving — he’s taking, too. So he needs to make it all up to you.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Think you’ll cum if I bite you again?”

“I-I might,” you breathe. He can tell — you’re so tense, veins straining beneath his lips as his middle finger dips into your entrance. “I want it.”

“Good,” he murmurs, sliding his finger inside you to the knuckle as you let out another shuddering moan. “Just relax for me, mi amor. Relax for me and I’ll give you what you want — that’s it,” he coos, pumping slowly in and out. You’re so tight, walls pulsing around the digit even as you rest your weight against his chest, trying to follow his instructions.

“That’s it, good job, ángel.” he says, pulling all the way out just to push back in with two fingers, his own breath stuttering at the way your pussy sucks them in deeper at the stretch. “It won’t hurt this time if you’re relaxed, okay?”

You let out a little hum of affirmation, cheek sliding against his hair as his fangs graze over the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. He can spot your reflection in the mirror on the dresser at this angle, and the sight has him biting down, injecting you with another dose of his sweet venom.

He can’t tear his eyes away from the mirror, watching you writhe with pleasure; eyes screwed shut, pretty mouth agape, lips swollen and smeared with red, tits spilling out over the cups of your bra. His eyes drink it all in, and his stomach lurches when his gaze drops down to watch his fingers fuck you open just the way you like it.

You’d already been so close before he’d pulled away earlier. It’s not long before you’re trembling in his hold, walls getting tighter and tighter around his fingers as he pushes you closer to the edge. He wants you to cum — fucks his fingers into you a little harder, a little faster, prodding upwards just to moan against your skin when he feels a little burst of wetness hit his palm as he hits your favorite spot.

You’re slurring your words, practically drooling as you tell him how good it is, how close you are.

He gets to watch it all in the mirror — the sight of you spread open and dripping around his fingers is so obscene that it’s a wonder how he doesn’t cum in his pants. Most especially when your hips jerk, catching his tip in the slippery mess dripping down to your ass.

“Cumming, cumming-“ you cry, breath hitching as he finally brings you to your peak.

There’s blood slipping past the seal of his mouth and dripping down your shoulder as he fucks his fingers in faster, banging against your spot to fuck more squirt out of you, spraying across his wrist and up to his forearm. Your blood gets so hot when you cum, the flavor sweetening in his mouth as it spikes with endorphins and makes his mind hazy.

Miguel pulls his fangs out of your neck and his fingers out of your pussy, resting his hands on your hips. He holds you steady as he drops his head down to your shoulder blade, flattening his tongue against your skin to chase a crimson bead rolling down your back. You let out a tired moan as he presses a trail of kisses from your neck to your hair, arms wrapping back around your waist.

“You did so well, mi amor,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the space behind your ear. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

You hum sleepily as Miguel continues to shower you with affection, barely registering his movements as he reaches for the plastic bag you’d left on the nightstand and pulls out the bottle of water you’d originally bought for him.

He thinks he may have overdone it, making you cum so hard while so low on blood, but you deserve it. You deserve the world.

“Drink up, ángel,” he says, lifting the bottle up to your lips and coaxing you into taking a few sips. Once he’s satisfied with your intake, he sets the bottle on the counter, using the extra towelette in the bag to wipe your cum from his fingers before pulling an empanada out for you.

He’s still cradling you against his chest, legs all tangled up with his as you twist into him, nudging your cheek against the fabric of his shirt.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes.

“I should be asking you that question,” he replies, dropping the wrapper into the plastic bag. “I’m fine, thanks to you. But you lost a lot of blood. You need to eat something, okay?”

He lifts the empanada to your mouth and watches you take a bite. The two of you are quiet as he feeds you, and once you’re finished, you lean forward to kiss the tips of his fingers. The action is so loving that it makes him shiver.

“You’re really okay with this? With me?” Miguel asks, skirting the back of his index finger over your cheekbone. The two of you are lying down now, your head on his chest as he runs a palm over your back. You’re still so sensitive, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Of course I am, Miguel,” you say, peering up at him through your lashes. “I love you.”

He lets out a shuddering breath as you cup his cheek, the softness in your tone making his heart throb. He turns his head, pressing a kiss into your palm.

“I love you, querida,” he murmurs into your skin. “Thank you.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o'hara smut #atsv fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x you #spiderverse fic #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse fanfic #winnie writes

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altrodent · 5 months

Text

Cycle

Part I: Vessels Vixen

Pairing: (Poly!) Sleep Token x (F!)Reader

Genre/Warnings: This chapter is mainly Vessel x Reader for lore build up!! Fluff, a made up character for plot is womanizing, flirtatious Vessel, decent amount of cursing

Summary: After kicking out a bunch of jerks at your work place, you become the savior of a certain masked man

(A/N): I’ve tried rewriting a story involving Sleep Token at least a dozen times now, and this is my last attempt for the first part and probably the best, so I hope you enjoy! 🥲🩷

It’s very common to find me working for extremely long hours as well as doing all the chores while blasting my ears off with an old pair of headphones. I do work in a record shop anyways, so what else would I be doing? Once I moved out and on my own I’ve had nothing to do, so I help this elderly couple maintain their shop so they can enjoy their- what should be- retirement.

The town we live in is decently small, but still big enough to include fascists and douche bags of every variety. More specifically, a group of men called the ‘Southwind Snakes’ by the men and just plain ‘perverts’ by the women- me included. Almost every day they end up either trying to wreck the shop, wrecking the shop, or trying to fight with other customers- which those fights usually end up leading to the shops wreckage. Today wasn’t any different.

As the climate got colder, the rain got heavier, and when the weather is shitty, so is the amount of patrons. The elderly couple were packing their bags, ready to go home before asking me“Are you sure you don’t want to just close up early, sweetie? The storm’s looking pretty bad.” Shaking my head, I respond “It’s alright, I’ll hold down the fort. Have a good day you guys.” I wave them off as they head out into the curtains of rain, just as they’re about to pull out I hear one of the worst sounds in the world; the ‘Southwind Snakes’ shit mobile. It’s the ugliest pick up truck I’ve ever seen, and of course it’s sitting front and center in the swamping parking lot. Josh and his goons enter the store and make a beeline straight for my counter. I groan, putting my headphones aside “How can I help you?” He puts one of his greasy hands on the counter “You can help me in more than one ways, doll” he smirks cockily, moving his one hand out to the side so one of his accomplices can five him. “If it doesn’t include helping you find something, or jamming a stick up your ass, then I can’t help you.” I blink blankly at him, his face turning into one of offense “Whatever, prude. Do you have the CD’s we ordered?” I roll my eyes, walking to the back wall, and bending over to grab a box from the lower shelf. All I hear is inappropriate giggles from the childish men, I frustratingly clench my teeth before walking back and handing him the box of CD’s. “Here you go. Need anything else?” He takes the box, “I could always use your number, if you’ll give it to me this time” he winks sloppily “Yeah, no. If you don’t need anything else from the store then have a good day.” He huffs loudly, exiting as his goons follow.

As I was returning to my work, I hear him yelling outside, “Jesus Christ, what now…” I run to the window, to see him berating a person who must’ve run into him. I usually don’t want to get involved in that douche’s antics, but when he starts hurting people verbally or physically I’m usually keen to stepping in. I walk outside in the frigid rain, by the time I get outside, Josh has already turned it from a verbal altercation into a physical one. “Get the hell out of here Josh, leave ‘em alone!” He seethes at me before hopping in his fuck truck. “Hate that fucking guy… are you okay?” I turn to the person, and offer them a hand. Through the thick sheets of rain I see the person look up at me, wearing what appears to be some sort of white facial covering. Looking down I see their hand, painted in some sort of black material snail into mine, obviously shaken by the situation. I help them up, “come on inside, I’ll get you warmed up.” They nod as I lead them into the store, the sudden warmth enveloping our now freezing and soaked skin. I wipe the rain off my face, “I’m sorry you got caught by Josh, he’s so damn rude all the time.” The person takes the cloak like garment off their shoulders, revealing a set of well toned shoulders. “You shouldn’t apologize for something that isn’t your fault, I should actually be thanking you.” He turns to me, I advert my eyes as best as I can, but it’s not helping that there’s now a shirtless man in my store, dripping with the aftermath of the storm. I get a decent look at his intricately beautiful yet grotesque mask, and catch myself before I end up staring for too long “I- uh I think we have some extra towels in the back, stay right here, I’ll be back!” He nods, giving me a comfortable smile, I quickly turn on my heel and head to the back.

Is there really towels in the back? Probably not, but I needed to get out of there before my face explodes from all the heat. But, lo and behold, the owners do keep some decently clean towels in the supply closet, so I grab one for each of us. I take one more heavy breath before heading back into the stores floor. Almost immediately as I enter, he asks “Is this you?” My brows hitch before I hand him a towel, “what do you mean?” His splotchy arm points toward a picture of me and the owners a few years back hosting a huge metal concert. It was like our states Coachella, or Sick New World. “Yeah that’s me, in all my… goth glory.” I giggle softly, I had done mine and the couples makeup in a goth style. “They love matching with me, and they always thought my makeup was ‘pretty’” I smile softly, his eyes gently weaving into my distracted appearance “I think you look ethereal” Blinking obliviously at how naturally he complimented me, “I’m sorry, what-?” He turns to me, still entirely topless “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate of me to l say wasn’t i-“ “No! No-“ i interrupt, flustered “Sorry- no, you’re fine! I’m just honestly not used to compliments…” he tilts his head “‘Not used to compliments’? Do you not get complimented often?” With hands on my hips, my cheeks puff slightly as I exhale “In this town? Not really.” He take a step forward “Well, maybe that’ll change…” his black painted mouth smirks cheekily, one of my brows raise in confusion “Me and my friends just moved into town, if they like you as much as I do, they’ll be all over you.”

I blink rapidly, obviously confused, my face heating with blush still trying to figure out what he means by ‘like me as much as he does’ and ‘all over me’. I stand still, overcome with confusion, he laughs brightly, stepping ever so closer “You’re very cute, I don’t know how people here don’t tell you more…” our faces become extremely close, all my senses disappear, the only thing being processed is the extreme volume of my hearts rapid beating. He leans in slowly- oh my god, it’s really happening. I only met him today, but I mean hey- *Honkk* we both snap out of our trance. He laughs softly “That must be them.” I back away, embarrassed “I’ll see you again, right?” I nod warmly “Good” he quickly kisses my cheek, my hands go numb at the surge of romantic energy coursing through my system. He pulls back smiling, some of the paint on his lips now transferred to my cheek, making him chuckle. He turns to leave, putting his cloak on when I speak, “(Y/N)…” his head turns slightly “I know you didn’t ask, but that’s my name…” I smile awkwardly, what if he didn’t know your name- “Beautiful…” he whispers under his breath “I’m Vessel.” He walks out to the parking lot, leaving me alone. I think I’m in love.

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violet0182 · 6 months

Text

Jude Bellingham x poc! reader

summary: you and jude are going to a nature hotel in Singapore

a/n: this is my first time making a fic so i hope it’s ok and i got this idea from a tiktok i saw of someone at a nature hotel and also i haven’t been to a airport since i was 5 so bare with me💀

barely proofread

——————————————————————————-

This was your first time going on a trip with Jude and you are so excited. It was a dream you’ve had since you were little to go on a vacation with someone and now that you met your someone you could travel the world with Jude.

“Jude if you don’t come downstairs right now i’m leaving without you!” you yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

“hold on baby i have to finish packing everything” Jude yelled from your shared bedroom.

“Jude I told you yesterday day that we had-”

“yea yea I know just hold on”

You were so frustrated with Jude right now but you knew that you didn’t want to get into an argument so you just kept your mouth shut. You were looking around to keep your mind occupied and then you heard a meow at your feet.

“Hi baby, i’m so sorry I have to go but i promise i’ll bring something back” you said with a baby voice to your cat.

“you give more love to the cat than you’ll ever give to me!” Jude fake cried to catch your attention.

You turned around to see your boyfriend with his suitcase in his hands and is looking up at the ceiling dramatically as if he caught you doing the worst to him.

You gave a goodbye kiss to your cat, you two headed to the airport.

After you went through TSA you sat down in the waiting area as Jude went off to get you a drink and some food.

A few hours later you both got on the plane during the duration of being on the plane you and Jude have kissed, cracked jokes about the people on there and the kids throwing fits, and watched movies together.

Once the plane landed you guys headed to the hotel room, you put down your bags, did you nighttime routine and went to bed, surprisingly you were so tired that your body adjusted almost perfectly.

Waking up was heavenly, you breathed on the cool, fresh air and when you turned you saw the love of your life sleeping so peacefully. You got up and then did your routine again and made a light breakfast.

You thought it was a good idea to then go into the pool that was right outside of your other hotel door. Doing just that you were to be super careful to not wake up your boyfriend. You put on your bikini and headed out the door. You were floating so peacefully to breathe in your surroundings, you were so deep into your thoughts you almost didn’t feel hands sliding around your waist so easily.

“When did you wake up?” you asked your boyfriend so quietly not wanting to ruin the moment.

“While you were making food, I was so comfortable I didn’t get up,” Jude slightly chuckled at his words.

Still breathing in your surroundings you almost didn’t feel Jude’s hands roaming around your body. Feeling heat rising and making you want Jude’s hands to do more than roaming you turned around and gave him a deep, hungry kiss.

Jude took this as an indicator that it was time for both you to head inside and have some time alone.

——————————————————————————this is most definitely shit, i’m not good at making fics to be honest i can only come up with ideas but executing it is not my forte

#jude bellingham #vacation #hotel #nature

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soft-boi-eli · 3 years

Note

Hello Hello!

I just wanted to say I love your fics!

ALSO!

Could I request a CC!SBI X Gn! Insomniac Reader! Where the reader is an insomniac (Obviously-) but is somehow a pro at MC!

Like they are basically god at the game! They also REALLY enjoy horror games! They don’t get scared easily and LOVE horror movies! They basically love anything horror/creepy-

ANYWAYS!!

The reader lives off of ramen and Monster energy drinks (For fun-)! They have a Twitch (Which has about 18 mil followers and 14 mil subs!) and a YouTube channel (Which has 20 mil followers!)

They mainly play horror games (Obviously-) and MC!

You can do headcanons or scenarios/images with the SBI! Maybe like playing a horror game together or MC? OR! Maybe some things they do together? Or when they meet up? Or-to many ideas Nightmare-

ANYWAYS!

I don’t really care! And don’t worry about taking too long on it!

ALSO!

Maybe we could be friends? Only if you want too!

Remember to eat, drink, and get enough sleep!

Yes. I lovesthese ideas and I'm gonna choose headcannons due to they are a bit easierfor me to write.

And yes I'm perfectly fine with being your friend! I'm actually happy to make friends on this app so yeah!

Pronouns:nonbinary

Tw: cussing. Insomia, mentions of horror movies. Mention of horror games. Fluff.

SBI with a horror streamer friend head cannons.

*Ahem* tommy wanted to paly a game with you so you choose a game that didn't look like horror until the middle. He screamed at the jump scare and it made both of your chats so happy.

When phil decides to play with you there is literally a silence after a jump scare. Everyone thought he had a heart attack and honestly so did you until he spoke up about accidently hitting his mute button when he jumped.

Wilbur. He's a bit better then tommy but more scared then phil would be. Any little noise won't get him but when it starts to get noticeable the noiseless to him. The jump scare, he'd fall out of his seat and stay on the ground for a bit. You ask if he's good and he literally doesn't answer. He's dead. You killed him. Congrats.

Techno. He'd handle them a bit better then everyone else. Not as good as you but heisnt very paranoid. He literally runs at the noises trying to get jumpscared. While you run after him telling him to stop because if he doesn't then you'd lose and die. And technoblade never dies.

If you all play together both tommy and wilbur pussy out. Techno last the longest and phil the second longest. While you remain the ruler of horror games.

Now how you all met was dream invited you to the dream smp to add to the chaos. Needless to say it got extremely chaotic due to you being on almost 24 hours. You first ran into techno. He seemed confused and skeptical.

You both found eachothers love for potatoes. You set up camp quote close to techno but not too close.

Phil popped in when he needed something for a build and noticed a new name. Talked to you in chat and asked to join your VC. You both found each other talking for a bit.

Wilbur was next. Wilbur got curious over the new person and just hoppedinto the same VC as you techno and phil. He was quick to realize that you were a famous youtuber. Mainly for your horror videos and your extreme Parkcore skills.

In minecraft that is.

Tommy noticing that all of you were in the same VC joined in with shouting. He was low key jealous that everyone was obsessed with you. Then he saw why.

You literally cracked jokes at his shouting.

"Is that an angry pomeranian? Nah nah. It's an angry child. Even better an angry blonde!" - you.

He was shocked and immediately started joking and laughing with you. He wasn't fully angry for long.

Now about your diet. When they heard that you had only eaten ramen and drank angry drinks they were concerned. You lived quite close to techno so when you guys met up he was shocked that you looked as healthy as you did.

He hated the fact that you literally didn't eat anything else.

You told him occasionally you have something other then ramen but you were just too lazy to really cook anything and that you didn't feel like burning the house down.

One month phil, tommy, wilbur, and techno decided to organize a month long sleep over so that they could celebrate your birthday. Phil being quote the father figure cooked different, but easy dinners every night just so you didn't eat only ramen that day.

When they actually arrived though you got a text from Phil asking about your address in your dms. Not think much of it you just sent him your location.

You were going to take a small nap. Just to bost your energy before you went and streamed later that night.

As you were sleeping there was a car heading to your house.

Phil, wilbur, tommy, and techno were all just existing in the car. And when they arrived to your house they didn't expect to actually see a clean house.

You woke to a loud knock.

When you opened the door in your half dazed state you expected a package. But to see four people standing on your porch.

You nearly jumped out of your skin.

You were stuck there blinking at them.

Finally snapping out of it you let them in. Confused on why in the ever loving fuck they were here.

Phil explained they were here to celebrate your 21st birthday and they were here for a month.

You stared at them for a while. Confused on what to do since you haven't had people over in almost 2 years.

But you got use to it.

So when you got done streaming and smelled something other then ramen you were thrown off guard. Like what was that. I haven't smelled that in years.

But after the second day you got use to it too.

For your birthday phil literally made a feast.

Like he found your favorite food other then ramen and cooked it. With that he prepared everything you could dream of.

Your sleeping habits. Let's dig into those.

I'm in no place to talk as right now it's 3:05 in the morning. And here I am.

But when they are over they don't let you stay up till no 3-4 in the morning. They all know the importance of sleep.

But there are those nights where no once can sleep and it results in a late night stream. And streaming for hours none the less.

The amount of accidental all nighters everyone has pulled was immense. But that's what happens with jet lag, adhd, and insomnia.

Literally you get tired randomly. Sleep for only 3 hours. Wake up. Drink coffee, energy drinks, highly caffeinated tea. And don't sleep till late at night.

Pillow forts.

It's a must and it happens. Horror movies, pillow forts, and snacks. Like you all are in this massive fort, watching horror movies, one by one you all are falling asleep. You and techno were the last up due to technos active mind and your body not letting you sleep.

You two literally just vide there, changing the movies from horror to some silly animated movies, like how to train your dragon, frozen, Luca, and many others.

You two pull an all nighter and it's actually a bet to see how long anyone else takes to notice.

You bet an hour. Techno says all day.

You won. Philza notices the worse eye bags under both you and technos eyes and immediately starts scolding.

He is papa bird and he won't let anyone of his children neglect their needs.

"Did you even drink water at all? You guys should of been sleeping not binge watching horror movies all night!" -philza

You could only offer a smirk, along with a laugh.

"I think we did I just can't fully remember. Also we were watching animated films. Not horror. Surprised you didn't wake up to let it go." - you.

You turn to techno.

"You owe me 15 bucks pig boy!"-you again.

Handing you the money he rolls his eyes. "Yeha yeah. Rub it in." -techno.

Ah yeah they found a horror game that you were scared of surprisingly. It was actually surprisingly you hadn't played it yet.

Outlast.

You had been holding off that game until you finished your other one but here you were. Bored out of your mind.

So you decided fuck it.

That game teriffed the shit out of you. It was so good though.

When you screamed they all came rushing up due to the fact that you never scream.

They say you out of your chair, on the floor, blinking. They thought you were hurt.

But you sat up and looked at your computer.

"Damn. That was actually really good." When you looked behind you and found the boys all staring you smiled and waved.

"You need something?"-you

"You screamed. We heard a thud. We thought you fuckin died!" -tommy.

"No I'm alive. My soul almost divorced my body but it's still quite here."-you

That day made highlights.

The popular y/n actually got jump scared. The one person who never screamed at horror games screamed.

When they left you were sad yes but they were still your best friends. Ready to talk when ever you want.

Sometimes I think that you guys talk all through out the night. Them forgetting that you were actually in a different time zone.

Sometimes they pop into your streams, be it MC, horror, you just talking to your fans, or even the once in the blue moon, cheerful games.

They just pop in and start talking to you. And you talk back like they were there since the beginning.

Phil is now one of your moderators too. Along with tommy, wilbur, and techno. When they pop in they make sure no one picks on you.

And since you are now close to the SBI. You are now part of it.

You didn't choose the fans did. But they are your new family. No matter what.

Even if they disagree with your eating habit.

Or energy drink addiction.

Or insomnia.

Or you mainly playing horror games.

Or you basically living in your streaming room.

Or even the nearly 24 hour streams.

I could go on but I'm not gonna.

I'm tired. But I can sleep. 2 days and I get to have a tour of my new school.

And it took so long to finally get into it.

We have been going through a huge hassle even before school started to get me enrolled.

And then we had to get me into this program.

But now on Monday I get to go in. Get a tour. Then start either Tuesday or Wednesday.

Anyway hope you liked. It's now 3:50 and it's no proof read I'm sorry

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alltooreid · 3 years

Text

Call It What You Want

Everyone around them is trying to discover the true nature of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship. Little do they know Y/N is trying to figure out the exact same thing.

A/N: Sorry this took a lot longer than I wanted it to.... Mental health is hard but here it is!! I hope you guys love it :)) Additionally I added a lil garvez to this... but for it to work with the timeline we’re all just gonna pretend Lisa doesn’t exist... ok great!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (with a little splash of implied Garvez content for my personal joy)

Requested?: Yes!! :)) “can you do a one shot based off call it what you want??”

Type: Fluffiest Fluff

Word Count: 3K

Content Warnings: None!

“My baby's fly like a jet stream High above the whole scene Loves me like I'm brand new So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to”

The team was sure something was going on between Y/N and Spencer, they just weren’t sure how to prove it.

Every sign pointed to the two dating, but the pair hadn’t said anything about it. Maybe they were trying to keep it a secret, but at the same time they didn’t appear to be being very secretive about it.

So ever since Penelope saw Y/N giving Spencer a ride home a week ago, she has been determined to uncover the truth, and hopefully the truth was her two best friends were in the world’s cutest, most perfect relationship.

She was using her technical brilliance to gather data when she was caught by none other than Luke Alvez.

“What are you doing in here?”

“This is my job Luke, I have to be in here,” she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I know that! I mean what are you doing right now, we don’t have a case.” he smirked “Are you committing any cyber crimes? You know you could get in a lot of trouble for those, the FBI won’t help you. You should let me help.”

She smiled, “You do know I got my job here from committing cyber crimes right? I don’t think I would need your help. Besides, I’m working on a personal project.” After some thought she decided Luke might actually be helpful “I’m trying to find out if Spencer and Y/N are dating.”

“I swear I saw them leaving together yesterday, that seems like pretty good evidence! I could be very helpful to you.”

“I’m way ahead of you, but I guess you can help,” she pulled up a new tab, quickly constructing a timeline while Luke pulled a chair next to her. “So our favorite pair’s relationship would, based on my intense experimentation and surveying, begin here,” she traced a circle around the start of the timeline with her cursor, “on that night we went out after the case and then wouldn’t stop talking to each other.”

Luke and Penelope discussed all the things they saw that led them to believe that Y/N and Spencer were more than just friends, from how keen Y/N was to listen to anything that came out of Spencer’s mouth no matter how difficult to follow, to Spencer’s willingness to touch her. After about 15 minutes however they were interrupted by none other than Y/N herself. Penelope quickly switched tabs, so that it now appeared she was just showing Luke a funny kitten video.

“Hey guys! What are you doing in here?” “Oh you know, just wasting time. . . What’s up?” said Luke.

“I was just checking to see if you wanted to go to lunch! If you have any opinions as to where that would be great too because no one out there can make a decision . . .”

“Of course I want lunch! I’ll be out there in just a sec,” Penelope smiled and started closing her work done as soon as Y/N left, almost forgetting Luke’s presence.

“Um, Penelope?”

“What is it Luke?”

“Do you think you’d ever do anything like what Y/N and Spencer are doing?” he asked.

“Like what? Keep a secret? You know I’m terrible at that stuff.”

“No, no I mean like . . .” he took a deep breath, “You know, like dating a coworker?”

“What does that have to do with anything? Now hurry up and come to lunch, we can keep working afterwards,” she replied.

Luke awkwardly smiled, and they both left.

Little did Luke and Penelope know that as they debated and pieced together aspects of Y/N and Spencer’s relationship, trying to uncover if they were dating, Y/N was doing the exact same thing.

Her and Spencer had been on three dates, each more boyfriend and girlfriend than the last. They got coffee one day, then went to a movie, then a nice restaurant for dinner. Tonight Spencer wanted to keep it a surprise, but that just made her even more confused.

Sometimes her and Spencer would sit next to each other at the round table, and now when they did that he would reach over, not to hold her hand, but just to link their pinkies together.

She didn’t know what that meant.

Sometimes Y/N would go on a tangent and realize she had been talking for almost an hour about nothing in particular, and when she realized Spencer was the only one still listening would apologize for wasting his time. To which he would reply, “Why would I be upset about spending time with you?” She didn’t know what that meant.

And one time, on her and Spencer’s first “date” they were about to part their separate directions, and Y/N had no idea what to do with her body or her hands, Spencer wrapped her into a hug, and she swore she felt his lips brushing against the top of her head.

She really didn’t know what that meant.

Which is why she continued to let Penelope and Luke have their fun trying to decipher her and Spencer’s social cues. She knew as soon as she was about to enter to ask about lunch, Penelope was not exactly quiet and Luke wasn’t any better, but she let them believe they were being sneaky.

Besides, maybe if they found the answer they could let her know.

When the team returned from lunch she couldn’t help but continue to contemplate this issue further, Spencer hadn’t really said anything to her at lunch. Were they still just friends? Were they dating but not telling anyone? Were they going to tell anyone?

“Y/N! Are you excited to hang out tonight?” Spencer asked.

Hang out. So it definitely was not a date. . .

“Of course! Right after work right? Your place?”

“Yep! It’s a date,” he smiled and walked away, leaving Y/N in a state of confused panic. What was this? For someone so logical and scientific, Y/N wished that Spencer Reid would just tell her the kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, and genus of their relationship.

Maybe then she could stop dissecting it to try and figure it out.

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

As Y/N stood outside Spencer’s apartment building, she struggled to muster up courage to go inside. It’s not that she was nervous to hang out with Spencer, it was just Y/N knew she needed to have the “what are we” talk with him for her own personal sanity. And she just wasn’t sure yet what his answer would be.

She had made her way into the building and gotten to Spencer’s floor when she ran into the man of the hour himself.

“Oh there you are! I was about to come down and get you,” he said.

Y/N glanced at her phone, “I’m sorry, am I late?”

“No, no, no. You’re perfect, I just got excited.”

That confused Y/N even more, she couldn’t decide if that leaned more towards friend or date territory. However all of her anxieties were forgotten for a moment as soon as she entered Spencer’s apartment.

Almost all the lights were off, except for several strings of lights shaped like stars, strung in different directions across the room. In the corner were several folded up blankets and sheets, and pillows were spread out across the room.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it, although if I’m being honest I don’t really know what it is . . .”

“13 months ago we were on a case, the one were the unsub was killing couples when they went out camping so that no one would look for them for days, and you said that you used to go camping all the time but you didn’t think you could go anymore. So I bought stuff so we could go camping together, right here.”

Y/N was left almost speechless, “I- I don’t even know what to say, Spencer this is incredible.”

He beamed, instantly satisfied with that answer. “I tried to find a tent, but all of the stores I went to said I should order one online . . . I figured it would be more fun to build a fort instead.”

Spencer brought over the supplies he had bought and gathered, various sheets and comforters, pillows, his leather couch cushions, sleeping bags, a large collection of clothes pins, and some more lights. Except Spencer left a single bag in the pile, the only one from a craft store.

“Do you want me to grab that one?” Y/N asked.

“Oh um, no don’t worry about that one. I saw something stupid on that site JJ and Garcia really like while I was passing JJ’s desk. . . Pinterest? Yes that’s it. And I tried to make it but even though I memorized the instructions I couldn’t get it to work. . . I kind of just gave up and threw everything in there.”

“Can I try it?”

He nodded, and Y/N got up and glanced into the bag, in it was a push light, warm toned tissue paper and a couple empty paper towel rolls, all stuck together, but also somehow falling apart. Y/N couldn’t help but smile, “Were you trying to build me a campfire Dr. Reid?”

“Well you said that your family used to have this big bonfire every year, and that it used to be one of your favorite traditions until you couldn’t handle going anymore, so I thought I could make one that would be a little safer for you. Turns out that you actually need four PHDs to be good at crafts though.”

“Spencer this whole date is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me . . . Thank you.”

“Of course, I really want you to enjoy yourself when you're around me Y/N.”

“Spencer, I’ve never not enjoyed myself when I’m around you, and you were with me when I got shot. You’re my favorite person, you do know that right?”

He blushed, “You’re my favorite person too Y/N.”

So the two lovers built a blanket fort, draping sheets over string lights and shoving the inside full of pillows and blankets, giggling the entire time. Y/N taught Spencer the simplicity of DIY projects, and how sometimes the directions needed to be adjusted slightly based on personal preferences and ability. Soon the pair were cuddled up together on the ground, no other space to be except for right next to each other, as the rest of the fort was covered by snacks, pillows, their homemade campfire, and Spencer’s vinyl record player.

“Did you do this on purpose? Making me be so close to you?”

“No, I would never, it’s not my fault this area is so small . . . “

“Mhm, although I’m sure a genius like you could figure out how to make an adult sized fort, I’m very glad you didn’t,” she said, giggling and squishing herself closer to him. They smiled and kissed each other, before Spencer spoke.

“You make me so, unbelievably, happy. I never thought I could feel like this until we met Y/N.”

Y/N smiled even bigger, “Spencer I really, really like you,” she paused, it was now or never, “but um, what do you want to call this, like what we’re doing.”

“Well what do you want this to be? Because I want you to be my girlfriend.”

She smiled, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Well then that’s what we’ll be,” he said, kissing her on the forehead.

“Well you do know the team, particularly Penelope and Luke have the exact same question.”

“Well I think more than Luke wondering if we’re dating, I think he’s just wondering if Penelope will date him. . . So I say let them have their fun for a little while, before we tell everyone.”

She smiled, “Perfect. They’re profilers, they’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Well, I think we should watch a movie. . . Although I mostly enjoy my cinema in Russian, tonight is about you and I don’t want to give you a headache. What’s your favorite?”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I will not laugh at you darling.”

“High School Musical 3.”

　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　　♡　

So Y/N spent the rest of that night explaining the plot of the first two High School Musical movies, then explaining why the third one was the clear winner, and then finally showing Spencer the third one off of her phone, where she had it saved to her cloud for emergencies.

And although singing and dancing adults pretending to be teenagers was not exactly Spencer’s favorite genre, he loved how happy the series as a whole made Y/N. So he latched onto it, and learned as much as he could about it.

One particular scene however, in one of the earlier films, seemed to make Y/N extra excited, as she spent the longest amount of time talking about it. So Spencer decided he knew exactly what to do to prove to her he was in this relationship for the long haul.

Spencer could tell she was anxious before their date, and it didn’t take him long to guess that it was because she didn’t know how serious everything was to him. Yet, he didn’t want to be too obvious that he wanted her to be his, because if he had assessed wrong he would make a complete fool out of himself.

But when she asked him, she seemed so nervous, so small, he knew he had made a mistake in waiting, and now he wanted to make it up to her.

So as she was walking in the next day he caught her. “Y/N!”

“Hi Spencer! What’s up?”

“I have a present for you. . .” he said, handing her a small box wrapped in shiny gold paper.

“For me? Why?”

“Oh you know, just because. . .”

As Y/N unwrapped the box, Spencer got more and more nervous… What if she hated it? What if she thought it was stupid or too soon or didn’t get it or-

“Oh my god Spencer I-”

“You know what it’s stupid, I don’t even know why I got it for you. I can return it and find you something you’ll actually like-”

“I love it Spencer, it’s perfect. Will you put it on me?”

Spencer hooked the chain around his new girlfriend’s neck, the small “S” pendant shining in the light.

“It’s like Gabriella’s. . . I love it. I can’t believe you would care to remember something like that…”

“Of course I would remember that. I have an eidetic memory. Did you know that although the original purpose and origin of initial jewelry was largely unknown, they date back to the 14th century?”

“No, I just mean… It’s very thoughtful Spencer.”

He smiled, “Well I’m sorry to kill the mood, but I really have to go to the bathroom. I drank 3 cups of coffee this morning and I was standing here waiting for you for 18 minutes and 4 seconds before you came in.”

She laughed, and then hugged him, “Well don’t just stand here! Go!”

Spencer ran off, leaving Y/N to walk into the bullpen alone. As Y/N was making her way to her desk, she was stopped by none other than Penelope Garcia and Luke Alvez, Penelope up front, Luke standing a foot or so behind her, ready to back her up.

“Y/N! We know your secret, you and Spencer are secretly dating. . . We figured it out this morning. You can’t hide from us anymore,” Penelope said, Luke nodding behind her.

“Well yeah we’re dating, but it’s not a secret.”

“What? Excuse me? You haven’t told anyone!”

“Yeah but we haven’t really made any effort to hide it? We told everyone about the time we went to the movies?”

“Yeah but- Um, we just thought we were being sneaky. . .” Penelope said.

“You might wanna get a little better at that guys, the Bat Cave is not soundproof.”

“Dang it, I really need to work on that…” Penelope said. “Well Luke Alvez, I suppose our quest has been conquered.”

“See! We were right, I told you I’m great help,” Luke said.

“Oh don’t get it too twisted, this was almost all me.”

After a moment of playful banter, Y/N stopped them “So when are you two going to start “secretly” dating huh?”

“Uh hmph, I don’t know what you talking about. I would never,” Penelope said.

At that moment, Spencer returned from the bathroom, and came up upon Y/N hugging her from behind and leaning to rest his head on her shoulder. “What are we talking about?”

Penelope threw her head back in defeat, “Nothing, 187, we were just talking. . .”

“Don’t you think Luke and Penelope would make the cutest couple Spencer?” Y/N smirked.

“You know what? Yeah I do!” Spencer played along, “Have you guys ever thought about that?

Luke was beaming behind Penelope, while she looked like she was trying to hide her enthusiasm. “No actually I haven’t,” she said.

“Well you definitely should,” Y/N said, giggling as her and Spencer walked to his desk.

“Hey, wait come back here! What does your necklace have on it?” Penelope asked, half running after them, Luke closely behind her.

“Whatever you want Penelope, whatever you want.”

“I want to wear his initial On a chain round my neck, chain round my neck Not because he owns me But 'cause he really knows me”

Thank you so much for reading!! Please reblog and let me know what you think :)))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies @hercleverboy @rigatonireid @muffin-cup @takeyourleap-of-faith @wheelsup @s1utformgg @averyhotchner @widow-cevans @rotinireid

please let me know if you would like to be added or removed :))

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tataelingmoon · 3 years

Text

Fort Cooky

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Soft fluff

Warnings: Lots of kisses and cuddling, sad longing, overworked Jungkook

Summary: When Jungkook arrives home from a tour and wants nothing but to spend time with you. It results in building forts and lots of cuddling.

You read the clock. It was promptly 8 pm, an hour before he gets home. You wanted nothing more than to get into his arms and for him to hold and cuddle you like a baby while you embrace his warmth. It's been a year and a half since you and Jungkook have been dating. The relationship has had its ups and downs but currently its going strong. So here you are studying and hiding in your books before your beloved, sweet boyfriend arrives at your house. You figured that with Jungkook around you'd get none of your work done so it would be best if you finished before he arrived. If he was here, he'd have you plush up against his chest while nuzzling in your neck with occasional kisses on the cheeks or lips here and there while you studied. Or the two of you would be messing around. Whether it be you messing with his hair or him trying to tickle you to death. I guess that was also one of the things you loved about Jungkook the most. He trusted you and you trusted him. He only looked at you like you were the most endearing creature he has seen and it makes your heart melt at the thought. You missed him. Jungkook had been so busy with his schedules and the tour that there was nearly even enough time to meet leaving you both away from one another for 5 months. This had been an ongoing situation dating the idol though. However, with technological advancements, you were grateful that phones existed. Phone calls between you and Jungkook were here and there considering how burnt Jungkook would be after a show and the time difference. But the both of you made it work. He would try to call you after each show but sometimes it wouldn't happen due to either a surprise interview, or you or him being asleep.

...

While you continued studying and reviewing for your classes, it wasn't until 8:40 pm that you heard the door open and close. He was here. Your heart pounded louder as the footsteps to your bedroom got closer and closer. It was then that you were caught in an embrace. Not any embrace, Jungkook's warm and cozy arms. The arms that use to hug you to sleep before the tour. You brought your arms up, hugging Jungkook back and taking in his scent. Being unable to part from one another, you both continued to be in position for another 10 minutes. "I missed you so much baby." Jungkook's sweet, honeyed voice broke the silence. Sniffing in the scent of your shampoo, he reminisced on how much he had missed your presence.

"I did too." You mumbled in his chest. Tilting your head up a little bit to see his face you were met with his eyes staring into your eyes with so much love that it made you tear up. Jungkook feeling the same slid his hand up gently to wipe your eyes dry.

"Baby don't cry. I'm so sorry our tour and schedules took up half the year. If it makes you feel any better, the company gave us 2 months off!" Jungkook wiggled his eyebrows causing a giggle to erupt from you. "Now there's the cute little smile I adore." Jungkook added before smooching your lips repeatedly. You giggled telling him to 'stop it' but couldn't due to his tight embrace and non-stop kisses causing you to stop in between your words. This resulted in the two of you wiggling around like a worm with the playful fight. "Y/N! I only want one more kiss." Jungkook whined trying to pull you closer.

"No." You signaled with a finger narrowing your eyes. "You had too many kisses already." Jungkook pouted melting you into a giggle.

"You're so mean! I only want to give you love but you keep pushing me away." He complained.

"Aww... is my little kookie mad." You teased while smushing his face in your hands.

"Of course I am lady! It's been almost a year and you give me this treatment. I thought you'd miss me more." He grunted.

"Kookie, I did miss you a lot! But now that you’re here I don't have that longing anymore. You washed it all away!" Giving him a quick peck you leaned into his chest. The both of you swayed in place, just embracing one another's warmth before Jungkook spoke.

"I'm sorry, I probably over reacted. I just missed you a lot. Would it be okay if we spend the rest of the night doing something?" You nodded at his suggestion.

"No Kookie I understand. But at least 2 months' worth of time with me would be more than enough right?!" You wiggled your brows breaking into laughter at his expression.

"It'll never feel like it's enough though!" He held you tighter.

"Ooh, looks like we got ourselves a little romanticist here." You joked.

"Oh shut up." Jungkook rolled his eyes. "Now come here and give me more smooches." You obliged to his requests.

…

It was now 9:30, you and Jungkook decided that you both should watch a movie before building a fort to sleep in. The movie that Jungkook had so much wanted to watch with you was a horror movie. He said that scary movies are great for cuddles and that if you get scared at least you have him. But without him knowing, you already watched the movie by yourself and it wasn't scary at all. So you knew those words were mostly for himself. You nodded your head, keeping a small smile to yourself. You turned on the TV and went to rent to movie online quickly before playing it. Making your way back to the sofa, you dropped down and laid in Jungkook's open arms with his head on your shoulder and arms around your waist.

…

The movie was over and you stared at a pale faced Jungkook. You laughed at his reaction before worriedly asking, "You okay Kookie? You look a little bit scared."

"It wasn't scary but it's the end credits that scared me. I'm surprised you aren't scared."

"It's because I already watched it." You answered. Jungkook widened his eyes clearly shocked.

"You watched this movie... by yourself?! You crazy woman!" He remarked. You snorkeled at his reply. He really is one in a million.

"Okay but you like his crazy woman hmm don't you?" You turned your head to look at him in the eyes.

"Of course I love you! Now hurry up! Let's build forts and head to bed I'm tired!" He demanded then lightly slapped your butt for you to get off him. You chuckled at his response before getting off of him.

…

You gathered the blankets and comfort pillows throwing them on the sofa. Jungkook who was on the sofa took the blankets and started making the base of the fort. Gathering the last of the blankets, you started building the exterior of the fort. Fort building took another 10-15 minutes before it was complete.

There you and Jungkook lay inside while staring at the blanket ceiling. "Kook, do you want to know how much I missed you?" Jungkook, half asleep, hummed. "I missed you so much. I really wanted to skip a couple of classes to come see you. I couldn't just stand us being on calls. I really wanted to be held by you again. You make me feel safe. There were so many times I broke down because I wanted you here but I knew you couldn't." You turned your head to look at his closed eyes. Staring at him fondly, you started tracing his features before he held onto your hands stopping you.

Opening his eyes, he replied, "I'm so sorry to hear that baby. I'm sorry I wasn't here and I love you so much for being so strong and waiting for me. I'm so sorry I didn't understand the situation you were in. I know my job makes it hard for us to date but I promise, all my love for you is the same and it's strong." He cupped your face in his large palms bringing your face up to where he could see you. He caressed your cheeks as he spoke out, "Would it make you feel better if I left one of my shirts and belongings here so you don't miss me as much?" You nodded in agreement. "There's my sweet little girl!" He brought you into his chest, hugging you and kissing the top of your head. "I love you so much buttercup."

"I love you too my sweet cookie." You both laid in the silence before an idea came to your mind. "Kook, how about we name his fort, Fort Cooky!" Jungkook totally knocked out didn't reply. You turned and faced him seeing that your boyfriend is beyond exhausted. He had bags under his eyes and it seemed as though he had also lost a large amount of weight. He must have been greatly overworked these past few months. You gently moved his bangs out of the way before placing a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight kookie, love you lots. Get lots of rest."

#jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #overworked jungkook #kpop drabbles #idol jungkook #bts #jimin #taehyung #namjoon #yoongi #seokjin #hoseok #baby maknae jungkook

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cloudy-minded-idiot · 3 years

Text

closing time

pairing: Natasha Romanoff x female reader (kinda?)

warning: mentions of blood, a probably very inaccurate description of a wound being treated (lemme know if I should add anything else)

word count: around 3,000

a/n: wrote this before bed last night and edited it this morning. feedback would be appreciated, just pls don’t be too hard on me, since it’s the first fic i’m posting on here. i have a vague idea for a second part if anyone’s interested.

summary: a wounded stranger stumbles into your life one night, and you find yourself helping her out despite your better instincts.

next part

It was a slow night for a change. The last customer had left half an hour ago. An elderly man who had only bought two packs of cigarettes and some strawberry mint gum to go along with it. He was a regular, came in at least once a week, always bought the same thing. The kind of customer you enjoyed after a long day: quiet and quick to leave.

You were all set to lock up for the day. All you could do now was wait for your shift to actually be over. A difficult thing for someone who was inherently impatient and had nothing to distract herself with. Your phone had died halfway through the day, and you had finished your book sometime around lunch. Any other night, you would at least have your co-worker or your boss to chat with, but Mr. Douglas had left early today. Something about his in-laws coming to visit. You hadn't question it.

A glance at the clock. Ten more minutes. With a sigh, you closed your eyes, just listening to the ticking sound. For a while, you counted along. It was calming. Almost enough to lull you to sleep. Not that that took a lot, you were pretty tired after all. You had long lost track of the seconds gone by when, in between the rhythmical tik-tok, a shrill bell chimed. The one above the entrance you knew all too well.

You had to suppress an annoyed sigh. Last-minute customers.

Whatever complaint you had on your mind was quickly replaced by utter shock when you opened your eyes. In, through the drugstore-door, staggered a woman with fiery red hair, covered head to toe in dirt. Bruises lined her face, and she kept one hand pressed to her abdomen in a futile attempt to stop blood from seeping out of a wound. Little droplets fell to the floor despite her efforts, marking her path to the counter.

"Holy shit!" you breathed out, eyes probably wide as saucers. You continued dumbly, "I think you need to see a doctor."

An understatement, to be sure. If her sickly pale complexion was anything to go by, she was sure to keel over sooner rather than later.

The redhead shook her head determinedly, a pain-stricken look on her face.

"No doctor. No hospital. Just need some medical supplies," her remark was accompanied by her slamming crumpled dollar bills on the counter.

"O-kay," you said slowly, leaving the counter and taking her by the elbow, "I'll get you your supplies, but you seriously need to sit down."

You opened the door to the break room, guiding her to a chair that she more or less collapsed onto. She winced in pain, and you stayed a moment to make sure she was all set before hurrying back out. In a frenzy, you jogged along the shelves, mentally trying to create a list of supplies she could need. Rubbing alcohol, a first aid kit, scissors, tweezers. You also grabbed some painkillers and a bottle of water on your way back.

Dumping all the supplies on the round wooden lunch table, you watched her nervously as she started to cut off parts of her shirt to get better access to the wound. Almost instinctively, you grabbed the trash can holding it out for her to dump the blood-soaked fabric into.

"Water," she croaked out in between painful gasps, "Need to…rinse the wound."

Mutely, you nodded. Rummaging through the cabinet of the small old-fashioned kitchen counter until you found a big bowl and filled it up. Dipping a towel into the lukewarm water, you knelt in front of the woman.

"Let me do it. You need to save your strength."

She looked like she wanted to object, but, in the end, she gave you a curt nod. There was a lot of blood. You did your best not to irritate the wound too much. By the time you were finished, the water itself was a deep crimson. She had closed her eyes, sweat covering her brow. She grabbed you by the sleeve of your shirt when you tried to stand up, holding you in place.

"Now with alcohol," she told you. Your eyes flickered to the bottle on the table.

You hesitate. Swallowing the lump in your throat.

"Are you sure?"

"Do it," the redhead commanded, eyes still closed. She let go of your arm then, returning hers to the armrest of the chair. Her fingers left behind bloody prints.

You obeyed her order, wincing along with her in sympathy as you pressed the alcohol-drenched cloth to her wound. You could only imagine how much it must sting. Her grip on the armrests tightened until her knuckles turned white. When you were done, she inspected the wound, eyes narrowed to see in the dim light of the fluorescent lamps. A long silence stretched between you two. She looked up, meeting your gaze for the first time. Her eyes were a mix of greens with little specks of grey thrown in. Under different circumstances, you might have admired them a little longer. They were quite beautiful.

"Can you sew?"

You nod slowly, sensing where she was going with this and not liking it one bit.

It took a while to find sewing supplies. Taking deep breaths, you willed your hands to stop shaking and followed her murmured instructions. Put on latex gloves, sterilize the needle and thread. She sounded very calm as she explained how to make the first stitch, didn't even flinch when the needle pricked her skin. It helped calm you down a little.

By the time you cut off the excess thread, you found yourself unable to recall doing any of the other stitches. The rush of the moment made the procedure seem to pass faster than it probably did in reality. She eyed your handiwork for a moment before giving a small nod of approval, a faint, exhausted smile tugging at her lips.

“Not bad for a rookie.”

“Thanks,” you breathed out, already preoccupied with sifting through the first aid kit.

Wrapping the wound was much more your forte. The redhead leaned back in the chair once you finished, washing some painkillers down with a big gulp from the water bottle. With the adrenaline wearing down, you felt as exhausted as she looked. Leaning back against the table leg, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your body relaxing as your apprehension lessened little by little.

You took a couple of moments to mentally catch up to what just happened, processing the sheer craziness of it all. Your brain was brimming with questions. Who was she? Who hurt her? Why didn’t she get professional help? They were on the tip of your tongue. But the woman passed out before you had the chance to ask her anything.

With tremulous hands, you cleaned the store for the second time that evening, wiping up blood from the floor, the chair, and the table. You discarded the rags with the rest of the used supplies. All the while, you checked on her multiple times, unable to shake the fear she might die right then and there. She looked unnaturally pale, but her pulse continued to drum rhythmically, her chest kept rising and falling with every breath she took.

What now? Should you call the cops? The hospital? She seemed pretty set on not getting any authorities involved. Perhaps with good reason?

You resolved to find out tomorrow, hoping you would not grow to regret it. Slinging one of her arms over your shoulder, you lifted her up and carried her bridal style, mindful of her injury. She wasn't too heavy, but you still were glad you had had the foresight to park your car nearby. After making sure she was safely strapped into the passenger seat, you went back and finally closed up the shop.

________________________________________________________________

The next morning, you were woken up by some clattering sounds coming from your living room. With a groan, you forced yourself out of your bed and stumbled through the door into the next room. The redhead was walking around in the dim light, rummaging through your drawers and dropping things left and right. You watched, for a moment, too perplexed to say anything as you rubbed your eyes tiredly.

“Shouldn’t you be resting or something?” you ask, voice rough from sleep. It was still way too early to be awake. You had thought the pain killers would help her sleep for a couple of hours more. Looks like you were wrong.

“Later,” she muttered just loud enough for you to hear. Crouching down, she opened the bottom drawer of the tv cabinet and pulled out some DVDs you had stored there, only pausing to look at the title of one of them with a smirk.

“Is this not a kids' movie?”

You had no idea what she was looking at, but you crossed your arms, feeling a bit offended anyway. Blame your lack of sleep for making you a little sensitive.

“Do you make it a habit to judge the movie taste of people who were gracious enough to let you stay in their home overnight?”

The woman didn’t answer verbally, just put the movie back and closed the drawer again. She turned to face you, her expression turning serious all of a sudden as if only now remembering where she was and how she got here in the first place. She looked apprehensive, taking a couple of steps in your direction.

“Does anyone else know I’m here?” her voice conveyed a sense of urgency, eyes staring into yours imploringly. Confused, you just shook your head.

Her shoulders relaxed a little.

“Good,” she nodded, her attention already returning to her little scavenger hunt.

The redhead walked across the room, sifting through your kitchen cabinet next.

You sighed, picking up a couple of things she had knocked over in the living room and putting them back in their proper place. Every few seconds, you would glance at her from afar. She was still wearing the outfit she had on when she came into the drugstore. With her unconscious, you hadn’t seen any way of getting her into some new clothes, at least not without possibly irritating her wound or waking her up. She could surely use something clean to wear. Her current attire was dirtied and bloody, not to mention that her shirt now looked like a makeshift crop top since she had cut off parts of it last night.

“You know, if you just told me what you’re looking for you wouldn’t have to make such a mess of my apartment,” you winced as one of your spice shakers fell out of the cupboard and landed on the stove just as you finished speaking. Luckily, nothing broke.

The woman paused mid-motion, still on her tiptoes, body halfway turned towards you.

“A radio. An old one preferably.”

Frowning, you picked up and folded the blanket she had discarded on the floor in front of your couch.

“What for?”

The redhead eyed you for a moment, hesitant and unsure whether you could be trusted. In the end, she kept quiet, ruling against explaining herself. You reluctantly accepted her decision, tossing the folded blanket back on the couch cushion in resignation.

“I should have an old radio alarm clock somewhere in my wardrobe. Will that do?”

It took you a couple of minutes to find the old thing, hidden away in the very back of your closet, underneath some clothes you hadn’t worn in forever. When you returned to the living room, your visitor was leaning against the kitchen isle, nibbling on one of your pop tarts which she abandoned as soon as she saw you. Eagerly she took the alarm clock off your hands, acknowledging you with a grateful nod. The redhead sat down on the couch, plugging the device into the closest outlet.

You more or less kept an eye on her while you made yourself some coffee, but you had no idea what she was doing. To you, it looked like she was just fiddling with the controls, only static and a couple of high-pitched sounds filling the living room. It was grating on your nerves, but you made no comment. By the time she finished and turned the radio off again, you were already on your second cup.

“Are you expecting any visitors in the next couple of days?” she asked casually, sidling up next to you in the kitchen.

You raised an eyebrow, placing your empty cup in the sink.

“No. Why?”

“I need a place to lay low until Tuesday.”

“Lay low?” you parroted, “What for? Who are you hiding from?”

Subconsciously, she glanced down at her bandaged wound, and you followed her gaze, slow realization coming over you.

“Did they do that to you? Did they hurt you?” you asked more softly. She only shook her head in confirmation, “Then why not just go to the police? I’m sure they can help you better than I c-"

“No,” she cut you off immediately, gripping your wrists tightly in both her hands as if to physically keep you from taking your phone and calling the cops. This only made you grow more concerned.

“No. We can’t go to the police. It’s not safe,” she loosened her grip on you a little.

Your eyebrows were drawn together as you thought about what she said.

“Why would it not be safe? Unless...,” you swallowed as a possibility crossed your mind, “Are you in trouble? Did you do something illegal?”

When she didn’t immediatley deny your statement, you started to jump to conclusions, your voice rising with panic.

“Oh, shit! You did. What was it? Were you in a fight? Did you kill someone? Holy shi- Does helping you make me an accomplice? Am I harboring a criminal in my ho-”

She cut off your rant by slapping a hand over your mouth, thus muffling your words.

“Be quiet, your neighbors might hear,” she hissed, gaze darting to the door, almost like she expected someone to burst through it.

Your eyes were wide in fear, but you listened to her, your heart racing. She slowly removed her hand, giving you a warning look as though she feared you would start talking again. You didn’t.

“I’m not a criminal,” she told you earnestly, “I am, however, on the run, so I would appreciate your discretion.”

“On the run from whom?”

The question was no more than a whisper, too scared to raise the volume of your voice. She held your gaze for a moment before shaking her head.

“I’m afraid that’s classified.”

“Classified,” you repeated, incredulous, “So let me get this straight. You show up at my job, bleeding all over the place and telling me not to call the authorities. I help you out, let you crash at my place and you, in return, wake me up at an ungodly hour, make a big mess of my living room, imply that you might have done something illegal, and expect me to let you stay here until Tuesday without getting any information whatsoever?”

“I know this isn’t fair...,” she admitted, and you laugh humorlessly.

“Not fair? I would be crazy to agree without at least having an idea what I’m getting myself into.”

The redhead nodded in agreement, looking away guiltily, teeth biting down on her lips. She seemed genuinely beat down, something even you, as a stranger, could tell was foreign to her. Oddly enough, you felt bad, although you knew, realistically, that you had done nothing wrong.

You let out a weary sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. Curse your empathetic heart.

“Three conditions,” you conceded, making her look at you in surprise. Holding up a finger, you started your list.

“One. No more throwing my stuff around. If you need something, ask. I don’t want to have to clean up after you.”

She nods, having the decency to actually look sorry this time. You put up a second finger.

“Two. You tell me your name. Doesn’t have to be your full name or even your real name if that’s a secret or whatever," you added with an indifferent shrug, "I just want something other to call you than ‘hey you’.”

“What’s the third condition?” she prompted, not commenting on the second one.

“You promise me that you’re not the bad guy in this situation and that helping you won’t land me in trouble somehow.”

The redhead cocked her head to the side, an almost fascinated expression on her face.

“How would you know I’m telling the truth?”

“I don’t,” you countered without hesitation, “I’m just gonna have to trust your word here. Just as you will have to trust mine that I’ll keep your presence here a secret.”

For a moment, she regarded you with some indescribable emotion on her face before nodding in concession. Letting go of the one wrist she was still holding, she took a step back. Caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even realized how close you were standing. Thinking about it now made your face heat up for some reason. The redhead raised one hand as though she was about to take an official oath. She held your gaze unwaveringly as she spoke.

“I promise you, that I will not make a mess in your home anymore. And I solemnly swear that you won’t get in trouble for helping me in any way whatsoever.”

Something about her demeanor told you she wasn’t lying. You shake your head satisfied, a small but relieved smile taking over, some of the tension and apprehension leaving your body. She smiled tentatively in return, extending her hand to you in greeting.

“The name’s Natasha.”

Glancing at her proffered hand, you took it and gave it a small shake.

“Nice to officially meet you, Natasha.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader

456 notes · View notes

redheadedpineapple · 3 years

Text

Haikyuu bois with a s/o suffering on their period

Haikyuu bois with a menstruating s/o in pains ): Bokuto Koutarou, Akaashi Keiji, Tendou Satori, Miya Atsumu fluff, slight mentions of blood / vomit, reader has a menstrual cycle GN!R

──────〔Bokuto Koutarou〕──────

ok this poor man is so concerned

he knows about periods and stuff right

but you keel over out of nowhere with your arms wrapped round your stomach

HE PANICS SM get this man a paper bag

rushes to your side and spitfires a hundred questions

you can’t help but smile at his energetic way of trying to help before grimacing again because PAIN

he’ll ask what he can do to help and does exactly as you say (and more)

picks you up to lie you down on the couch with a blanket, water, and a wastebin

goes to a local drug store and picks up some painkillers, a heat wrap, and extra menstrual hygiene products for you

sees the candy at the checkout area and has the brilliant idea of getting your favourite fast food/takeout for you along with your favourite candies (:

when he gets home with everything, you smile so widely

“Okay! It’s cuddle central now!”

Bokuto will bring you onto his lap and cuddle you so close, making sure not to hold you too tightly. When he sees you having bad spikes of pain, he’ll pull you just a bit closer and kiss you and tell you that he loves you in a million different ways to try and distract you from the pain.

He’s probably put on your favourite show or movies so you can watch together, and he’ll put his chin on your shoulder to snuggle you better. When you lean back onto him and let your head roll back against his shoulder, he’ll rub your tummy and soothe you.

The first few times, he’s a bit clumsy, but he gets the hang of it to help you get through the week.

──────〔Akaashi Keiji〕──────

he knows how to take care of you

everyone has to learn somehow anyway

it’s just that he learned through vast research and reading online forums from the very first day he met you

so when you’re finally comfortable enough with him and your relationship to let him be around you while you’re on your period, he already knows what to do

he’s prepared a bunch of your favourite foods and candies

stocked up on products of all sizes and forms in his apartment

when you come over, he’s made a blanket fort for you two and will give you all the love and attention you crave

makes sure you know he’s not annoyed with you

he’ll moderate your binge eating cravings for your own health, but as long as you’re healthy, he complies with nearly every wish of yours

if you’re vomiting and in complete misery, he holds your hair back if he needs to and will rub your back

doesn’t care about the mess, just makes sure you’re feeling nice n clean n comfy

“Kaashi,” you murmur, yawning. “‘Vrything hurts.”

“I know, darling. C’mere.” He pats his lap, and you barely manage to crawl to him.

You push your face into the crook of his neck and wrap your legs around his waist. He’s got a heating pad between the two of you, and you purr at the warmth. He brushes through your hair, still damp from the shower, and softly hums. As you drift to sleep in his arms (his nice, nice arms), he keeps his lips against the top of your head and fingers sifting through your hair.

You’ll wake up in the same position---he won’t move from that spot even if it kills him---all warm and comfy. When you’re reluctant to get up, he’ll carry you to the restroom so you can do your business.

When you’re menstruating, you go from a monarch to a deity, and Akaashi Keiji will treat you as such.

──────〔Tendou Satori〕──────

laughs at you for a good half hour at first

you whine at him to shush

he won’t

not until the particularly bad cramps start

that’s when you’re clutching your stomach and can’t move, and that’s when tendou gets mega confused and concerned

at first, he thinks it’s something unrelated

then he realises

“ah fuck.”

he’ll furrow his eyebrows and try to figure out how to help

when you start barking demands at him, he complies with a smile

he’ll tease you here and there

“oh, pwoor baby needs their snackies”

but he’ll still get you them (and some for himself) regardless

will cuddle you if you wanna

you two will lounge around watching random, poorly rated netflix movies and making fun of them

even while you’re throwing up or in real bad pain, he makes you laugh

“Sto-o-op!” you whine, stuck between gut splitting pain and laughter.

He goes on and on, exaggerating both his words and hand movements, and you can’t stop laughing.

“I’m gonna die! Satori,” you draw out his name, a plea for mercy. He pokes your shoulder and giggles at you and pauses for a moment. You think you’re safe for a moment.

“Hi gonna die, I’m dad.”

“You suck! I can literally feel blood gushing out and squelching, please.”

He just laughs at you as you smack him, scolding his dumb comedy. Being on your period with Tendou Satori means giggles all day long and also just. Pain.

──────〔Miya Atsumu〕──────

this man thinks he’s so smooth and knows everything

he prepares the heating pad and the treats and the food

he does not prepare for the absolute hell it really is

you’re on your knees in front of the toilet

he’s so confused, like doesn’t it just make you moody or whatever?

he carefully kneels next to you and rubs your back and asks if you’re okay

“NO MIYA ATSUMU, THERE IS BLOOD GUSHING OUT OF MY GROIN AND VOMIT GUSHING OUT MY---”

he panics and tries to figure out how to help

if he asks, he probably won’t get much more than

“i’d like my body to be restructured thanks”

when you’re feeling well enough to get away from the toilet, he’ll treat you so well

will binge random youtube series with you and joke about it

when you’re laughing really hard and it starts hurting, he’ll make sure to not giggle at you (even though he really wants to) and hold you close n make it all ok

You’re groaning into his chest and he’s coddling you, mumbling for you to remember to breathe and that he loves you and that it’ll be over soon and he’ll take you to your favourite restaurant or park or anything you’d like.

As you’re regaining your composure (and will to live), you smile at Atsumu and thank him. He’s stuck between a mix of cockiness (of course, he’s the best boyfriend) and confusion (but isn’t that the minimum he could possibly do? He wants to do everything and a half he can for you, but he’s lost as to what else he can do).

Miya Atsumu tries his best and will comfort you so much. The days after are pure bliss, finally feeling better and up for activities with him.

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there-must-be-a-lock · 3 years

Text

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself.

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo card, and also for @railmereid‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week.

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.”

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face.

“Seriously?” you ask.

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?”

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?”

“Shocking.”

“What are you going to do, then?”

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly.

“A what?”

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be.

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.”

“Huh.”

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”

“That’s… a good question, honestly.”

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?”

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly.

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?”

“Not really.” He shrugs.

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.”

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.”

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.”

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer.

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan.

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid?

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess?

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic.

You’re used to that, though.

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops.

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?”

“Please.”

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake.

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags.

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?”

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet.

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.”

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?”

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face.

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.”

“Like what?”

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open.

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily.

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.”

“Holy—”

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face.

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.”

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —”

You grin. “I came prepared, though!”

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly.

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused.

“It’s essential viewing.”

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you.

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?”

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better.

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.”

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message.

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.”

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision.

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you.

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder.

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care.

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse.

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw.

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks.

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed.

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.”

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.”

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?”

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns.

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.”

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs.

“Of course they are.”

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning.

“It’s all washable, Spencer.”

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —”

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist.

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains.

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed.

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit.

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close.

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.”

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum.

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have.

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen.

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing.

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up.

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin.

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing.

His eyes light up.

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun.

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing.

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?”

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!”

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile.

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.”

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white.

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting.

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing.

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.”

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly.

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.”

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.”

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.”

“I think I get it now.”

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.”

“Or we can pretend it is.”

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under.

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for.

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds.

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight.

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring.

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.”

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying.

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.”

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy —

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath.

“Safety?”

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.”

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.”

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —”

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you.

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation.

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply.

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him.

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.

He stares.

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it.

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real.

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.”

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint.

“Perfect,” he whispers.

It really is.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

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etherealeeknow · 3 years

Text

vocal lesson

• rated m for mature, slight angst

• pairing: vocal coach!seungmin x fem!reader

• wc: 2.3k (confession: writing long fics isn’t my forte)

• tw: underlying toxic relationship, masturbation (m), grinding, groping, unprotected vaginal sex, explicit language, creampie- i think that’s all, please do tell me if you find more c:

• note: i have a love hate relationship with this fic. i have a few goals i’d like to achieve from this fic and whether or not i’ll succeed is based on your feedbacks 🥺 so please don’t hesitate to drop them! also, enjoy!

• tag list: @es-kay-zee @formidxble @bobateastay @vogueinnie @sailorhyunjinz // leave a comment, dm, or an ask to be tagged! thank you ♡

—

seungmin despises the way his heart dropped when he sees your name flashing on his phone screen instead of you flashing upon his eyes. by this time, he’s fully aware that a chatty girl like you isn’t the type to text. in fact, you only do it on one occasion, which is when you’d like to cancel the class. just like what he has expected, the text says you won’t be able to make it that day and that you’re sorry; but he knows you’re not sorry. he knows you’re doing this on purpose—to torture him—and it’s working perfectly.

honestly, the suffocating pain in his chest isn’t because he has been losing sleep, tossing and turning in his king size bed for hours over the thought of you being all dolled up in the baby blue dress he has gifted you; neither is it because he missed his favorite orchestra playback this morning just so he could find the most perfect white shirt out of his collection of other white shirts just so he can appear pleasant for you, but because you’ve been cancelling the lesson for three times in a row. if your mother ever finds out about this, she would definitely fire him. to prevent that from happening, seungmin has been silencing your maids with credits, but he knows too well they’d soon go for more if you keep this up.

fiddling with the handkerchief that you had purposely left for him a few weeks back, seungmin gloomily shoves it into his pocket before dragging himself to the grand piano to warm his throat up. the first few notes started off slow and stable according to the piano keys, but with constant fear running on his mind, his fingers slipped and pressed the wrong one. the awry sound makes him cringe and shuts his eyes in annoyance. he hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because he adores you more than anything, even when your cracked voice sometimes haunts him at night. see, seungmin’s giving his all to you,

but why are you doing this to me? where are you? i miss you.

“heh, pathetic,” he mutters to himself as he slowly lies down onto the piano bench, facing the chandelier which lights would usually illuminate you when sitting on the same bench while waiting for him to get to the music room, running your delicate fingers along the black and white wood. your side profile’s exactly like a goddess—breathtaking.

sighing over the imagery of you, he begins unbuckling his belt; eyes closing momentarily when he slips a hand into his unbuttoned pants and starts palming his clothed member. three weeks. it’s been three weeks since he last got off, since he last felt your touch, and he’s been trying his best to hold back because he believes you’ll eventually come around. he believes you won’t leave him just like that, yet you aren’t here again today, and he’s dying to release his pent-out frustration.

a heavy sigh escapes his lips when he takes out his dick, the tip leaking from precum and it makes him let out another sigh when he begins pumping it; another one follows, then another one, and it carries on as seungmin’s hand goes faster by each second. even in the peak of his pleasure, all he can think of is you. oh, how heavenly it would’ve been to have both your soft hand and pretty lips around him instead. his free hand is quick to slip into his pocket, snatching your handkerchief. despite only briefly smothering himself with it, your lingering scent alone is enough to make his head spin. with the sateen now wrapping around his throbbing cock, it feels as if you’re there, skin to skin with him.

“fuck!” he hisses, but eyes widening right away over his own volume as he quickly raises his head to check on the slightly opened door.

he’s so close and pausing in the middle just to lock the damned door would ruin everything. should he just bet on his luck today? it’s not like any of his well trained maids would rudely barge into his music room, right? but who knows?

screw it.

his back automatically arches when he feels the increasing tension in his pelvis, and it pushes him to fasten his hand move—pumping his dick rapidly to release. with eyes rolling to the back of his head, seungmin begins chanting your name desperately and that’s your last straw. the moment seungmin ejaculates is the moment you slam the door open and run towards him. the poor guy who’s barely riding out his high jumps on the bench as he sits up.

“y/n—”

“shut up,” you cut him off and crash both of your lips and body together, causing him to fall back down onto the bench, and creating a somewhat deafening screech on the floor, but it’s nothing compared to his loud moan in between the kiss.

the feeling of you straddling his lap instantly makes him hard again; the feeling of his warm hands running wild all over you and the stickiness on your inner thigh coming from your ruined handkerchief has you wetting your already damped panties—the effect of rubbing yourself when peeping on his little show. as the kiss deepens, so does your hunger for each other. of course, there’s no way you’ve gotten over what he did, and he’s surely still upset for being ghosted too, but for now, lust is winning. one squeeze on your thigh is all it needs for you to throw your baby blue dress across the room.

“you’re always so hot when you do that,” says the now naked seungmin who gets back onto the same position, looking at you with his half lidded eyes as his arms stretch out to fondle your breasts, his favorite part.

“the only time you’d compliment me is when we have sex,” you scoff before going back down on him, slowly yet easily pushing his cock inside of you, and both of you grunt in unison.

“y/n, ah— shit! i told you it’s because i know you can do better.”

snorting, you call him a liar before grinding mindlessly, movement starting off slow just like how your breathy moans starting off low. as much as seungmin enjoys being taken care of, patience doesn’t exist in his dictionary today. his hands leave your chest for your hips, guiding you to slip in and out of him at a faster pace. but that’s still not enough—he needs more. in a blink of an eye, you go from being on top of him to under him. seungmin bangs you down loudly on the grand piano, your buttcheeks and hands hitting the keys and filling the entire room with jumbled notes while you yourself are filled by him to the fullest, right at your g-spot.

“seung— fuck!”

“louder,” he commands while thrusting into you, hips moving in a rhythm, and strong hands bringing your legs up to rest on his shoulders before holding onto your ass, supporting you from slipping down—multitasking is indeed his second best talent besides singing.

“what’s the p— point?” you breathe out, trying your best to sound coherent while maintaining eye contact, “so you’ll compliment karina instead again? pat her on the head and caress her cheek again?”

“you know i only did that to motivate you.”

“bullshit.”

if seungmin has to name anything you can do best, it’ll definitely be your ability to drive him crazy—disobeying him. again, he believes he has been going all in, keeping up with your lack of talent and bullshit for the past half a year; the way you’d fight, then fuck him, and fight again only to fuck him again, and the cycle continues. whenever he tries to talk things out, be it about your vocal lesson or your tangled relationship, you wouldn’t give a damn. today, that has to change.

“and i’m the one to blame? karina always listens to me,” he replies, slowing his thrust as he can feel your walls clenching around him even more and more.

“faste—“

“i said louder, y/n. tear your mouth wide open,” he grunts, thrusting into you so strongly that you jump and land back on the piano, creating such messy harmonies.

“seungmin, faster!” you yelp, voice raspy yet a little louder this time with your hands finding their way on his shoulders, and it makes him sneer as he leans in to kiss you, biting your lower lip before he lets go, and stop dead on track.

“hoarse voice, dry lips. don’t i always tell you to stay hydrated?”

you find it unfair. seungmin’s energy doesn’t make sense. the fact that he still has the power to put up with fucking while carrying you even after his solo session is unfair. and the way he has the audacity to give you a vocal lesson in the middle of everything, then stopping just because you aren’t complying is way too cruel, but perhaps, this is what you deserve.

“i’ll never cancel our lessons again. i’ll— i’m sorry. i will really listen to you,” you beg desperately, almost sobbing as you grind on him, refusing to let the tingling sensation on your core die down.

seungmin shakes his head. he knows you too well. normally, seeing you surrender like this softens him and makes him think that perhaps, he’s being way too demanding, or maybe, he should be even more understanding.

“that’s not what i asked for, love.” is what he says before resuming, putting all the remaining pressure he has left to snap his dick deeper into you.

that’s when his name falls out of your lips ever so gracefully, followed by endless ah’s, jaw hanging open. this is the loudest and clearest you’ve ever been—no holding back, no hitching breaths, no cracking—pure perfection.

seungmin doesn’t even need to ask for more because you’re already repeating it on your own.

“fuck yes. just like that. such a good girl,” he grunts right beside your ear, picking up his pace.

it only takes a few moments till you feel the familiar knot in your abdomen coming back along with him twitching inside of you, and this time, you make sure to hold onto him so tight, afraid he’d pull the same stunt again.

“shit— please let me cum. please cum with me, come inside me, please, please, please,” you blabber, voice turns husky once more, but seungmin couldn’t care less, there’s always another chance for another vocal lesson. right now, all he wants is to,

“cum.”

the two of you reach together. name chanting, legs shaking, fingers digging, and body fluids mixing into each other—drenching not only your lower bodies, but also the extravagant bösendorfer piano seungmin shipped all the way from austria. but that’s another thing to worry about. right now, he can barely keep his eyes open while you can barely feel your stiff spread legs across his shoulders. once he’s made sure you’re over your high, seungmin gently pulls out and lets you down. he sits himself first on the bench before pulling you by the waist to seat you on his lap, and the two of you let silence take over for a little while.

“i know you’ve been bribing my maids,” you start off, “they have a big pay, but it’s impossible for their designer bags to double up in just a week, you know,” you continue while pushing his damp hair aside, revealing the remaining half of his sweaty forehead.

“they were gonna snitch on you to your mom,” he replies, pausing in the middle to mirror your action, pushing strands of hair to the back of your ear before averting his gaze back on your eyes.

even with your smudged eye makeup and cracked lipstick, you’re still as shining, dilating his pupil.

“and?”

“and she’s gonna fire me.”

“isn’t that what i should worry about? you’re a world winning award soprano. there are hundreds of talented people waiting in line to be your students. money isn’t the problem. plus, i know you hate my voice. i also never listen to you, never call you sir, and am ninety nine percent horny throughout our lessons. in short, i’m a bratty and disrespectful pain in the ass.”

your punchline makes him snort and he can’t help but to pull you into a hug, closing the already small space in between so he can indulge in your body heat and feel your chest beating calmly alongside his.

but what happened to changing things? don’t you wanna be in charge? you can’t just let her have everything she wants.

despite hearing the faint voices in his head, mocking him for having the weakest heart for you, seungmin doesn’t care. for all he knows, he was a train wreck earlier this day; he surely didn’t expect he would go from reminiscing the memory of you under the chandelier to it actually coming true.

“this is real, you’re here.”

“it is. i am.”

“and you’re gonna—“ pausing, he breaks the hug to cup your cheeks, “you have to stay.”

“what for? for you? for the vocal lessons? for… what?” you question, unconsciously tilting your head as you place a hand over his, slightly squeezing it, hoping he wouldn’t let go.

silence.

“i might be a bitch, but i’m not dumb. it isn’t about money and it isn’t about sex either. so what is it, seungmin?” you ask, eyes searching for an answer before adding, “i bring no good to you.”

you’re right. his best friends have said the same thing. they can’t seem to wrap their heads around how a collected person like him can break so easily over a random, spoiled, daddy’s little princess. it doesn’t make sense, he knows—i know. he’s been trying to figure it out, only to meet the same dead end.

“i’m a mistake.”

yes—yes you are, and seungmin hates it, mistakes, he hates it to the fullest, yet he has managed to keep up with it all this time just because,

“you’re the only mistake in my life that i can take, y/n.”

—

gen’s masterlist

#gen writes #seungmin #stray kids #skz #seungmin smut #stray kids smut #seungmin angst #stray kids angst #stray kids fics #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids hard hours #stray kids hard thoughts #stray kids blurbs #stray kids drabbles #stray kids masterlist

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sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Sunny Fall Out

Synth’s 5K Follower Challenge / How it started – How’s it going?

@syntheticavenger , again congrats on reaching 5K 😊!

Title: Sunny Fall Out

Pairing: Frank Adler x Female Reader

Challenge: Frank Adler / Babysitting Mary

Warning: Swearing and fluff

My blog is an 18+ only zone, minors do not interact. Don’t let the fluff fool you.

A/N: My second entry for Synt’s 5K follower challenge. This fluff entered my brain while working on this dark filthy twisted mobster story. Took a break to write up this fluffy drabble for the lovely anon who requested this for the challenge. Lightly proofread, so all mistakes are my own. ENJOY!

Pictures for moodboard found on Pinterest, credit to the respectful owners!

How it started:

Frank Adler, your next door neighbour, with his complicated character. He was your weakness, his toned physique, his hard working ethic and his devotion to Mary. Exhaustion had overtaken your body when Frank ambushed you. There he had stood; practically begging you to watch Mary for a couple of hours. Roberta being out for the day and he had no-one else to turn to.

You loved that little girl and wouldn’t — nor couldn’t — say no to an opportunity to watch her. Even when you were exhausted and all you wanted to do was catch up on some much needed sleep.

Hours had been filled with chatter, pillow fort building and currently; watching a movie allowing you to doze off. It hadn’t been long when your nap was interrupted, the snuggled up girl moving with impatience.

“How about we paint some nails?” You croak

“YES!” An exciting peep from the small human. “What colour?”

“We can check, there is tons of different shades.” You smiled, getting up and grabbing your keys out of your bag. “I’ll be right back, don’t burn down the house, okay?”

“I won’t.” A mini promise before you hurried next door.

Only briefly getting used to the comfort of your home. You grabbed the small basket with nail polishes and remover. Running back and settling back down in the homemade fort. It hadn’t taken you long to decide on a colour, pink with a glittery shimmer.

“Mary, sit still.” You chirped firming your hold.

“You’re tickling me.” The foot in your hand tried to wriggle out of your grasp. Loud giggles erupting from the small body on your opposite.

“If you keep this up you’ll have more nail polish on your skin than the actual toenails.” You giggle, hearing the door open and keys being tossed on the table with a loud thud.

Frank leaned his hands down on the table. He looked like he had a rough day with whatever he had to do.

“We’re painting toenails.” Mary gleamed showing him the foot we were working on.

“Are you serious?” He sounded aggravated. Mary’s face dropped at Franks annoyed words. Assuming she’d experienced a minor outburst from him before. You couldn’t get a good read on him and opted for the immediate apology.

“Sorry, I thought it might be okay, since it’s only her toenails -- they can be hidden.” Screwing the brush back on the bottle. “I should have asked first.”

“You should have indeed.” He growled

“Mary come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” The disappointed pout on her pale face made your heart sink. Getting up and holding your hand out for her.

“Thanks for watching her, but I didn’t expect to come back to all this girly nonsense and fucking mess.” Frank grumbled. His impatience growing when you weren’t moving fast enough “Just leave it and get out already.” His annoyance had softened when he spoke the harsh words, too late for an apology now.

“Shut up Frank, I thought it was a nice gesture.” Dropping Mary’s hand and pushing past Frank’s body. You turned around to look at him. “You just didn’t have to be a dick about it.” Slamming the door on your way out.

Large steps taken to your house next door, balled fists by your side while you mumbled angrily to yourself. Fighting the tears that were threatening to fall from being exhausted and emotional, clearly the lack of sleep coursing your body. A squeal escaped when you were tugged -- a little too roughly -- on your arm, making you spin around. Frank!

“Leave me alone, you ignorant prick.” You tried breaking free from his grasp, hitting his arm with your free hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry won’t cut it.” You spat tears now streaming down your cheeks from the overwhelming tiredness consuming your body.

“It’ll have to do”

“It won’t and you know what,” You took in a sharp breath “You’re such an asshole you know that? I did something nice for Mary and here you come, barging in and being all rude and taking your shitty mood out on me. She looked devastated about having to take off some innocent nail polish. I did you a favour when you practically begged me to babysit her. It is just nail polish, Frank, not a full blown makeover to become the next pageant queen of the state…”

The anger unleashed onto him had made you feel slightly better. Before you could speak two large hands had pulled you in and enveloped your lips harshly. The shock made time stand still and then your thoughts recollected themselves at what was happening. Trying to push him off.

“I am really sorry,” Frank looks down at you taking in your features, his cheeks blushed. “I shouldn’t have taken out my rough day on you, it’s just -- it’s just Evelyn making life difficult for a second time ‘round”

You knew his mother was ruthless when it came to Mary. He had told you some small stuff, but knew their relationship was complicated. You’d seen her once and she made shivers run down your spine. She didn’t look like a pleasant person to be around.

Your face softened at his explanation “You want to talk about it over a couple of beers?”

“No, I don’t”

“You don’t want beer? I am truly shocked.” You feigned a gasp, clutching your chest in shocked surprise.

“I want the beer; I don’t want to talk -- I want to make it up to you.”

“For what exactly, Frank?”

“Being an asshole, can I persuade you with an offer of beer and pizza?” It wasn’t really a question, but it was a nice sincere suggestion.

You contemplated for a moment, you grabbed his face and risen to your toes. Pulling him down in your cradled grip and pressing your lips gently to his.

“Does this mean she can paint my nails again?” Mary shouted from the door. Breaking away from the kiss, Frank let’s out a grunt and you both turn your head towards the blonde girl grinning widely in the opening.

“MARY! Get inside”

“Play nice asshole.” With a giggle you slapped his chest playfully.

How’s it going – 6 months later

Your sundress clung to your body, yelping at the cold water from the exploded water balloon. You’re quick to grab the hose holding it in Mary’s direction, joyful shrieks filling the air.

“STOP! STOP!” She yelled, trying to fight her way towards you.

“No, you started it, you’ll finish it.” You laughed continuing to pour the cold water on her.

She fell down and let out a frustrated sob. You initially thought she’d gotten hurt, but when you reached her she full blown sprayed you with her water gun.

“That’s cheating.” You protested, you turn your head at the large grumble from the familiar truck you had been waiting to see. Mischief coursing through your body and you look down at Mary who expresses the same delight as you. “Let’s get Frank.”

“YES!!!” The exhilaration clearly visibly, jumping up and down.

Hiding around the corner you watch Frank approach the house, unknowingly, scanning through the mail. Mary runs up to him with her water gun and you throw some water balloons his way. Hitting him on his head and arm.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME!” Frank growled looking at the both of you giggling. “This is how I get welcomed home?” He opened the door and tossed the mail inside, before returning with a wide grin, grabbing a filled bucket by the door and running your way.

“RUN” Mary shrieked heading off, Frank followed in her tracks. Grabbing her by the arm and locking her between his legs. Her frantic movements were no match to his firm hold and she screeches when the cold water is poured down on her.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the interaction. Frank whispers something in her ear and she nods. He lets her go and he waves at you, raising your eyebrow in confusion, but soon realize that Mary is running your way.

“You traitor.” You chuckle pointing towards Mary.

Running away quickly, sprinting around the house trying to dodge Mary. She launches her small body at you, hanging onto you like a Koala. It has clearly slowed you down and before you know it Frank catches you, securing you in his grasp. Mary let’s go and runs away.

“I missed you.” You muse giving him a quick peck on his lips, batting your eyelashes at him.

“I missed you too, but that cute look is not going to charm me.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, pulling back giving you a devilish look. “We’ve got other ways to deal with naughty girls like you.” With ease Frank lifts you over your shoulder, you slap his ass animatedly trying to get him to put you down.

#frank adler #frank adler x reader #frank adler x you #frank adler x female reader #frank adler x y/n #frank adler smut #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #lilos masterlist #synths5kfollowerchallenge #lilo writing

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bokutoyaoya · 3 years

Text

The boards exams were still a few months away, but you were desperately behind compared to your friends. If you weren’t in the operating room, you were studying in the residents’ lounge or hiding in one of the skills laboratory as they were the most quiet place for one to focus.

Not only did you need to catch up, you had to resume your responsibilities as the chief resident, which meant organizing the schedules and shifts of the interns and other residents, as well as report your colleagues and classmates’ hours logged in the past month to Daichi-san. Not to mention your weekly appointments with Takeda-sensei or the interviews you had started to fetch here and there, with no success so far.

Aran-san had been kind enough to help you by quizzing you while assisting him or whenever he would let you lead the surgery, and so far, you were doing better than you expected. Akaashi-san had visited for a craniotomy and offered you some tips and tricks to understand the examiner’s questions and cases. That is, when Akaashi wasn’t busy wooing Osamu, or the other way around.

Surprisingly, Atsumu and Osamu’s behavior wasn’t so different from before, if anything, you found yourself feeling awkward around them. Small talk in the hallways or the elevator weren’t your forte for neither the three of you, but conversations in the operating room were easier than ever.

Another concern brought by the twins had been for you to sit down and talk to Rintarō, not an easy task since you both had different schedules, and truth be told, you wouldn’t know what to tell him exactly.

Though this was the least of your concerns right now.

After finishing a laminectomy, you sighed, finally able to nap for an hour or so. Removing your cap and holding your white coat in your hand, you yawned as you were opening the door to an on-call room. You were convinced no one would be there as today was another off day for the hospital, but you got startled when hearing the ruffled sounds of sheets and clothes coming from a bed. You didn’t move for a hot second and proceeded to slide toward an empty bed.

“Y/N?” you heard from behind you and nearly bumped your head against the top bunk when you jumped in scare.

You turned around, eyes immediately meeting Rintarō’s. “You’re not naked this time,” you both huffed at your comment.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that,” he apologized, sitting on the bed he’d been sleeping on when you came in. There were only the two of you in the on-call room.

“That’s fine, I’m exhausted I didn’t check if someone was there already. I’m sorry if I woke you, I didn’t mean too,” you removed your pager from your pants and put it down beside your coat, still standing in front of the bed.

Rintarō stretched his legs and back, leaning down and straightening back up.

“Hey, umm, I’m sorry for last time,” you sighed, fiddling with your cap.

“It’s fine, I overstepped, I’m sorry too,” he said in half a whisper. “And I saw you were busy with the boards exams and being chief resident, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“But you wouldn’t have, I guess,” you hesitated.

“I think it was best if you were the one to make the first move out of the two of us,” he chuckled, a small grin appearing on his face and you rolled your eyes in amusement.

“You are unbelievable.”

“Thanks, that makes another undeniable and great quality of mine,” you cut Rintarō off by throwing a pillow at him and snatched it back right away. “Don’t walk away,” he whined, “you were about to take nap, don’t you wanna lay down with me?”

But before you could reply, your pager bipped. You sighed, exhausted, but smiled nonetheless and grabbed your coat to put it back on.

“Can I still get a one minute hug, please?”

And without a word, Rintarō stood up and stepped closer to you, and instinctively you both leaned into each other’s arms, your head nuzzling into Rin’s chest as he tighten his hold on you. You’d be lying if you dared saying you didn’t miss this feeling, the safety of being held and handle with care, it was like laying underneath a comfort blanket during a particular storm, watching disaster breaking from outside while you were safe inside.

“I really have to go,” you mumbled.

“Just one more minute,” Rintarō groaned, his head diving into the crook of your neck.

“I’d love to,” you giggled and lifted your head to look at him, “but I can’t.”

“Okay then, go save lives.”

“Okay, see you around” you whispered, and Rintarō leaned in to peck your lips, a chaste kiss you gave into before slowly taking a step back and exit the on-call room, a smile tugging on your face.

You suddenly halted in the hallway, realizing not one, but two things. You forgot your pager, and… “Y/N!”

You pivoted, facing an obviously embarassed Rintarō, handing you your pager.

“T-Thanks, yeah, my pager, I’m gonna —” you stuttered.

“Listen, I —”

“Oh my, I really have to go,” you cut him off and turned on your heels.

… you and Rintarō kissed.

「 HEART’S CUTS 」 23. one minute hug

MASTERLIST – NEXT

– KEJNRUQUGGGFAA I’M MELTING

– funny story, I was writing the chapter and the app crashed 🙃🙃 and I almost forgot what I wrote and I wanted to bang my head against a wall but I’m incredible lol and I was able to deliver this chapter on time

TAGLIST IN THE REBLOGS

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu x reader #hq smau #hq x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro smau #suna x reader #suna smau

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crystalas · 3 years

Text

Instincts

A one shot inspired by @purble-turble and @its-kall-the-clown Cos I love the two concepts and they need to be together. Secret relationship Pregnancy and the concept of nesting, this is also pure fluff.

Red Son was feeling a conflict of many emotions at the moment and he wasn’t sure how to deal with it; on one hand he was elated that he was soon to be a parent and so happy to be going through this with the one person he has ever met that seemed to get him. He would often find himself day dreaming of what he and his little one could be doing as they grow up, hearing them say their first word, watch them take their first steps, the whole idea was exciting!

But he also felt a foreboding dread in his stomach when he thought about it too, there was the fact that he was indeed having a child with an enemy of the family. Even if his family doesn’t immediately kill his mate and child if they found out they would no doubt have plans for their grandchild given its heritage. Which is why they were hiding out till MK could safely defend himself and their baby from any harm without Red Son just in case his family tries anything.

The one thing however that had Red Son terrified whenever he thought about it was the child itself. The more research he did into pregnancy, birth and possible midwifery [there was a bloody good chance he was going to be the one delivering their child so he wanted that stuff memorised!] the more he realised how easily this pregnancy could go horribly wrong.

There was the factor of biology, MK was human and Red Son was a demon two beings that had vastly different life spans. Demon pregnancies lasted twelve to eighteen months while humans only lasted nine, would the child be born premature or be okay at nine months? Would the child be only ready at twelve and need caesarean to be born? Red Son balked at that idea it was scary enough at the idea of a home birth but he couldn’t imagine him purposely stabbing MK to get their child. Not to mention the difference in magic, the creation side of Monkey King’s powers and the destructive nature of his fire magic did not seem like a good mix, especially in a baby!

Red Son would wake up sweating after having nightmares of coming back home to find MK’s charred remains on the bed and their child innocently playing with the burnt remains of their parent’s entrails.

Although Red Son was feeling all these emotions and more, he planned on keeping them to himself. MK was going through enough as it is; seeing as he had to stay hidden from his family. MK wanted nothing more than to announce the news of their little bundle of joy but Red Son informed them that his parents had Bull Clones on constant surveillance of their hang out, there was no safe way for them to know without Demon Bull King finding them. He didn’t need Red Son telling him that he might have a flaming chest burster growing in his belly! So Red Son was going to be the best supporting partner and if that meant going on an ice cream run then so be it.

He came into the apartment and headed to the kitchen to put the ice cream away he froze when he saw the living room…

It looked like someone had tore up the sofas and then had been knocked over in a struggle. He couldn’t see MK anywhere so slammed the ice cream down on the table and searched the house. The airing cupboard had been opened and emptied out it looked like something had ransacked his house…Red Son’s heart started to pound and his throat was dry as he couldn’t bring himself to call out and was about to go into full panic mode when he heard something.

“Dang it!” MK groaned.

Red Son honed in and found himself bolting to the bedroom where he heard the voice and nearly tore the door off its hinges to find MK kneeling on the floor with what seemed every cushion, pillow, blanket and pile it up on the mattress that had also been pulled onto the bedroom floor. MK turned around to see Red Son staring at him.

“Yeah, I’m sorry for the mess…” he muttered, “I don’t know why but I really want to make a blanket fort but I can’t get it right which doesn’t make sense…and ugh this is so frustrating!”

Red Son stared at MK for a full minute before he burst out laughing both in relief and at the sheer absurdness at the situation.

“You’re nesting!” he chuckled once he got a hold of himself “I can’t believe it, you’re nesting!”

“What?!” MK cried “I’ve read that pregnancy scroll you showed me! That’s a demon thing, I’m not a demon!”

Red Son leant down and hugged MK from behind.

“Hate to break it to you Noodle Boy but you’ve got a lot of demon in you right now!” he laughed as he reached forward and put a hand on MK’s six-month belly. MK pulled a face as they recalled having an ungodly craving for wheat grass and charcoal during the early months, that had been embarrassing to be caught eating.

“So, want help me have another crack at this?” MK demanded as Red Son helped him up, the fire demon laughed again.

“Sure, but let’s try and minimise the use of material I would like to sleep in a bed tonight…”

After an hour of trail and error they finally created a nest that MK felt comfortable in, it was a sort of tent made from bedsheets, with the winter quilt as the floor with every spare cushion and pillow used to add for support. The edges of the nests were raised slightly by the cushions and pillows underneath as it was now sat on the floor in a corner of the bedroom.

“This is such a weird thing to feel compelled to do” MK muttered as they laid in their creation.

“Not really when you consider that most demons lived in caves or run-down buildings, I imagine wanted a safe soft place to have your young is a very practical instinct…” Red Son explained as he rolled over to face his partner. MK was looking thoughtful and rubbing his stomach gently.

“Does this mean I’m probably gonna give birth in this?”

“If you want, but if that is the case, I’m going to laid down some plastic sheets. No offence but I don’t want this stuff to get stained…”

MK took a spare pillow and smacked Red Son in the face with it.

#spicenoodleshipping #secret relationship pregnancy #monkie kid red son #red son #monkie kid mk

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 3 years

Text

oasis

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “can we share the blanket?”

Summary: quill catches you building a blanket fort to surprise groot with, and surprises you by helping. the two of you decide to test it out before the crew get back, and he shows you a side of him you haven’t really seen before.

Warnings: smut, fluff, hint of angst, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal sex, adult language.

Word Count: 4,486

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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You were humming quietly along with the dulcet sound of the Fleetwood Mac you’d left playing over the ship’s speakers, enjoying the way it echoed lightly down the metal walls of the corridor towards you. You made your way down to the cargo bay of the Benatar, your arms piled high with the sheets and blankets you’d just pilfered from your bunk. You cursed quietly to yourself as the toe of your slipper caught on a seam in the floor, tripping you up slightly as you went. Still, it did nothing to dull your good mood.

You dumped the blankets on the floor once you reached the quiet corner of the cargo bay you’d selected earlier, joining the stacks of pillows you’d already brought out between two shoulder-high storage crates. You smiled, pleased with yourself, releasing a happy sigh before setting about your self-appointed task. You never got hours like this, peaceful, simple moments without the sounds of crewmates arguing or the clattering of metal on metal. You loved your life with the Guardians, but that didn’t mean that you didn’t sometimes crave the quiet.

You bent over, searching through the stack of blankets for the biggest.

“Not that I mind the view, but you wanna tell me what you’re doing with my bedding?”

You jumped, startled, before arching your neck to look back over your shoulder. Peter Quill was standing behind you, leaning his shoulder against the ladder to the cockpit with his arms folded across his chest. He’d removed his jacket since re-boarding, the short sleeves of his tee shirt showcasing the muscles in his arms. He had an eyebrow raised in wry amusement, a trademark smirk on his lips. You rolled your eyes at him before turning back to what you were doing, unsure if you’d imagined his gaze lingering over your backside.

“Your bedding is safe. This is all from crew quarters,” you assured him. Both you and Mantis struggled with the cold of the ship when you were off world, so you’d made it a mission even before she’d joined the crew to always have more than enough blankets on board. They’d kind of become bulky souvenirs of the planets you visited, and you usually kept them stacked in a locker in the corner of the bunk you shared with her and Gamora. Thankfully now that you’d all upgraded to the Benatar, you had more space – while Quill, as captain, still had his own private quarters, there was now an extra bunk for Drax, Rocket and Groot to use. You glanced down at the pillow in front of you. “…and a few from the medical supply crate.”

“What, you finally got sick of hearing Drax’s snoring through the wall?”

You turned around to face him properly, sitting cross-legged on the floor. “Are you kidding? It’s like white noise to me now. I don’t think I could ever sleep again without an active sawmill present.” Quill chuckled. “What are you doing back? You guys only left like an hour ago.”

He shrugged. “Xandar gets boring fast.”

It was your turn to raise a brow. “There’s a whole planet out there full of gullible idiots, pretty women with loose morals, and plentiful booze. What more could you want?”

“Wow.” he snickered. “I feel seen.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “So? Why couldn’t all the wonders of Xandar’s seedy underbelly hold your attention, Star Lord?”

He ignored the question, the easy smile still on his lips. “The hell are you doing, Y/N?”

“Why don’t you come join me and find out?”

He gave you a smirk, the glint in his eyes mischievous. “Can we share the blanket?”

“I think there’s more than enough to go around,” you said dryly, and his smile widened. Your impatient answers to his flirty remarks always seemed to entertain him. Which was probably why he kept doing it. “But that would be the idea.”

“Huh?”

You pulled one of the pillows to your chest and wrapped your arms around it. “It’s a surprise. For Groot.”

“Is he sick of Drax’s snoring?”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, standing and shaking out one of the largest, heavier quilts. You flung it over the crates, letting it hang over them like a canopy. “I’m building him a pillow fort, jackass.”

“A pillow fort.”

“Yup.”

“A pillow fort.”

You gave him an exasperated look. “Quill.”

“Why exactly?”

“C’mon, dude.” you said, tossing a pillow at him. He caught it, one-handed, with a grin. “Didn’t you ever build a pillow fort as a kid?”

Peter was quiet for a moment before he made a show of rolling his eyes and shrugging. Still, a small smile teased at the corner of his lips. “Want a hand?”

***

You sighed in satisfaction, wiping your hands together as you surveyed your work. The two of you had, on his suggestion, shoved the crates back against the wall, and in the little alcove you’d created together was one hell of a pillow fort. You’d draped sheets and blankets over the entire thing and layered more over the metal floor. Pillows had been thrown into haphazard piles, making the whole thing seem like some kind of gaudy, cozy nest. Quill had surprised you by rigging the string of lights he and Rocket sometimes used to do repairs at night to a much lower brightness and had hung them around the makeshift tent like the fairy lights you’d had as a kid.

“I think it’s safe to say that we nailed it.” you said proudly, holding up a hand. Peter grinned beside you, slapping it with his own in a high-five. “Groot is gonna love it. Storytime was always better in a fort when I was a kid.”

“Wanna try it out?”

You grinned widely at him, and the two of you dropped to your knees at the same time. Peter held the ‘door’ open for you, letting it drop closed behind him as he crawled inside after you. You turned to collapse happily among the cushions, sighing contentment as you stretched out languidly. Peter took a similar position beside you; the two of you barely fit inside, his shoulder bumping against yours. You bent your knees and drew them up towards you to bring them inside the fort, and you hooked one over one of his. He had his bent as well, and your foot dangled a couple of inches off the floor. He tucked his hand behind his head, looking over at you with an amused smile.

“Comfy?”

Peter looked up, considering the fort. “Y’know, I don’t think we made it big enough.”

You furrowed your brow, turning your head to look at him. “What d’you mean? Groot and I will be fine in here.”

He shrugged. “I’m just sayin’, we barely fit in here as it is…”

“Why, Peter Ignatius Quill,” you said teasingly, laughing when he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Are you saying that you want to join us for story time?”

“You know that’s not my middle name, right?”

“I blanked.” you admitted with a shrug. “What is it?”

He laughed loudly, the sound breaking through the peaceful bubble the two of you had created between the blankets. “It’s Jason!”

“My bad,” you giggled, shying away from his as he reached out to poke you in the side. “It was the first thing I thought of!”

“Think of something cooler next time!”

“Alright, alright…” you surrendered, turning your head towards him and reaching over to prod his arm with a fingertip. “But don’t dodge the question. Are you – the big, bad, space pirate leader of the Guardians of the Galaxy—saying you would like to come read children’s stories with me and Groot?”

“It is such a turn on when you start describing me like that.”

You rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, I get all tingly, all the way down to my—"

“You’re still avoiding the question.” you said pointedly, cutting him off. He breathed a quiet chuckle as you did, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. “Story time?”

“Well, why not?”

“You know we’ve moved past picture books, right?”

He smacked you lazily on the bicep with the back of his hand by way of retort, letting his hand fall back to rest on his stomach. He interlocked his fingers above his belt buckle, the picture of casual relaxation. Your leg was still thrown over his, your calf pressed against his inner thigh. His gaze returned to the canopy above, and you studied the angle of his jaw absentmindedly, your eyes tracing along the dusting of strawberry blonde stubble that seemed darker in the muted light. “I spent a good chunk of my quality time building this stupid thing, I should get some use out of it.”

You raised a cynical brow, amused. The two of you never could help but poke at each other with childish barbs and banter, maybe even more so than the two of you dished it out to the other members of the crew. Maybe it was a reflex at this point, but it was still always entertaining. You affected an offended tone as you spoke again, even with a smile on your face. “Well, if you think it’s so stupid, why’d you spend all this time on it?”

“It’s not…” Peter sighed, shaking his head. “Sorry. It’s not stupid. It’s just…”

Your brow furrowed as you watched him struggle to find the words. You sobered, surprised that he hadn’t caught you in your joke. Instead, he seemed… flustered. “Quill?”

“You know, I forgot about it ‘til now.” he said ruefully, almost disbelievingly. He raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair. “…I used to build these when I was a kid.”

“Yeah…” you said slowly, confused. “I mean, a lot of kids did…”

He sighed, shaking his head. “No, I mean when my Mom got sick.”

“Oh.”

It was all you could think to say.

“It got… it got really hard, once she was hospitalized.” he said, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. His voice was soft and thoughtful, almost as if he’d forgotten you were there. Even so many years later, you could hear the thread of pain in his words. He reached up to touch his fingers to the edge of one of the blankets. “I built one of these one night, and basically never left it. I’d tuck myself away in it for hours with my Walkman and just ignore the rest of the world. Got to the point where I didn’t even come out for meals; Grandpa had to drag me outta there every day for school.”

You hesitated a moment before reaching over slowly and covering his hand with your own. “Peter…”

His eyebrows twitched upward as he looked down at your hand in surprise. You felt his hand turn under yours, his fingers smoothing almost carefully over your skin as he took hold of it. He looked up, turning his head to meet your eye. “You never call me that.”

You could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your fingers with each breath he took. The edge of his belt buckle brushed against your knuckle; a stark coldness compared to the surprising heat of his body. You meant your response to be cavalier, dismissive even, at this sudden change in the atmosphere between the two of you. Instead, it came out softly, barely more than a murmur. “Sure, I do.”

He shook his head, a small smile curving at one side of his mouth. Even though neither of you had moved, he seemed so much closer to you now, the two of you shoulder to shoulder. “No, you don’t. Not really. Closest you’ve ever gotten was tacking ‘Ignatius’ on it just now.”

You shook your head in amusement, smiling back at him. “It was a joke.”

His thumb brushed rhythmically over the back of your hand, his head turning to look back up at the blankets above you. “Sure it was.”

“What do you care?” you said teasingly. “I didn’t think you liked your first name so much, Star Lord.”

He shrugged the shoulder pressed against yours, meeting your eye again. His eyes were dark in the dull light, shining with amusement and affection. They were almost magnetic, and you felt warmth rise in your cheeks as your gaze fell to his lips briefly. You felt his hand squeeze yours, and there was a charming, knowing quirk to his lips that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed as he leaned towards you, and when he spoke, his lips were barely an inch from yours, his voice was so soft that you almost didn’t hear it over your own heart.

“I don’t mind it so much when you say it.”

Peter’s lips met yours, brushing against them in a chaste, whisper of a kiss. It was soft and gentle, his nose bumping against yours. His tongue touched your bottom lip as you parted them to breathe, his thumb still smoothing circles over your hand. You felt a shiver tingle its way up your spine, and his other hand came up to slide over the leg still thrown over his as he rolled onto his side to face you. His tongue slid languidly over yours, and you could feel his smile as he kissed you more deeply.

You exhaled shakily against his lips as his hand smoothed up your thigh, and he gave a light snicker as you parted, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Apparently you really like it.” you said after a moment, your voice unsteady. He grinned, his hand still trailing slowly up your leg, and your breath caught as it teased down to your inner thigh. He moved to kiss you again, but you pressed your free hand to his chest. “Peter.”

He smiled softly and reached up to tuck hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “Yeah?”

“What exactly are we doing?”

He smirked, his face moving towards yours again. “Want me to draw you a diagram?”

Peter kissed you again, his hand on the side of your neck. You let it linger for a moment, your fingers curling in the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. Peter responded eagerly, his hand moving down to take hold of your hip and pulling you towards him. You rolled onto your side, and Peter slung your leg up over his hip, his hand sliding up the back of it. It lingered just below the curve of your ass, gripping your leg almost possessively.

You felt his hips press suggestively into yours, and you couldn’t help but whimper against his lips, your hand tugging at the hair at the back of his head. Peter chuckled as you did, and you pulled away, embarrassed by your reaction.

You moved your hand to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze and looking down at his chest. You took a steadying breath, willing your heart to stop pounding. “Peter.”

You could feel a quiet laugh in his chest, his hand moving up to your waist. You shivered as his fingers ghosted up under your shirt to tease at bare skin. “Y/N.”

Your lips parted, intent on questioning him again… to ask what you were doing, where this sudden change in your friendship had come from… to ask what would happen later, if you didn’t stop. But then you felt the gentle, affectionate brush of his lips against your forehead, and suddenly, you didn’t feel the need to talk anymore. Instead, you met his eyes for a moment before you kissed him again, cupping his cheek in your hand.

Peter smiled into the kiss, the hand on your hip moving to the small of your back, urging you closer to him. The cold metal of his belt buckle was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and your ran your other hand down his stomach to the hem of his shirt. He groaned lightly into your mouth as your fingers crept under his shirt to caress the smooth skin of his stomach. You traced your nails over the muscles, and they twitched in response.

His hand moved to your ass, squeezing it eagerly and urging you closer. Peter slung his hips into yours, and you whimpered into his kiss at the feeling of him hardening against your thigh. Your hand moved to his side, and he broke the kiss with a light laugh, his face falling to the crook of your neck.

You grinned widely. “Are you ticklish?”

“Pfft, no!” he scoffed obnoxiously, wriggling away from you as you ran your fingertips across his waist again. “You—”

He caught hold of your hands, forcing you onto your back and straddling your waist. He pinned them on either side of your head, a cocksure smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “Now you’re in trouble.”

You snickered, wetting your lips with your tongue. You pushed your hips up into his suggestively. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, Star Lord?”

His grin widened, interlacing his fingers with yours and moving them above your head as he bent down towards you. His nose brushed lightly against yours, his mouth hovering teasingly above yours. You arched up to kiss him again, and he moved out of reach playfully, instead trailing kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck.

He lingered over your pulse point, and your eyes closed, a light moan escaping you as he sucked a mark into your skin. “Oh, well, that just sounded… cute.” He murmured against your skin, releasing your hands, and tugging your shirt up over your stomach. “But, that’s not what I’m looking for.”

He moved down to press kisses down your stomach, and you ran a hand through his hair. He leaned into it as he undid your jeans with practiced ease, and your hand tightened reflexively as he tugged them roughly down your thighs. Goosebumps erupted over your legs, his nose ghosting over your stomach and his teeth catching the waistband of your underwear and snapping it against your skin teasingly.

“And what exactly are you— Oh!” you jerked under him as he forced your legs apart and bit your inner thigh, his hands gripping tightly at your hips as he lathed his tongue over the mark he left behind.

“Closer…”

“I’m not ticklish, Quill.” you told him, rolling your eyes as you caught on to what he was trying to do. “But I— fuck, Peter!”

You bucked under him as he pushed your underwear to the side and rolled his tongue against your clit, your hand tightening in his hair. He snickered at your reaction, the sound devolving into a groan as your nails scraped against his scalp, his stubble agitating the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he brought you undone with his tongue.

The lights danced behind your eyelids as Peter slid two fingers inside you; tucked away in your little oasis and feeling everything he did to you made your heart flutter and your stomach tighten. You grabbed at the pillow under your head as you rolled your hips up into him, your chest heaving. “Pete—fuck, don’t… God, I’m gonna—”

He sucked on your clit and you came, arching up against him and your thighs clenching around him. You moaned aloud as you did, too loud for your little hideaway, eyes squeezed shut and toes curling. Peter continued to slowly pump his fingers inside you as he moved up to kiss your hip softly before straightening into a kneel between your legs. He watched his hand, his thumb circling lightly over your clit. He broke into a wide smirk as you twitched at the sensation, his eyes travelling up your body to your face. “Yeah, you love it.”

You bumped your knee hard against his side by way of retort and he finally withdrew his hand with a grin, holding your gaze as he licked his fingers clean. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah?” he ran a hand up your thigh, his other unbuckling his belt. “What are you gonna do about it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbow, fisting a hand in his shirt and dragging him down for a kiss. It was long, and languid, his tongue sliding over yours, his hand on your hip and his thumb hooked in the waistband of your underwear. You broke away to tug at his shirt pointedly and he straightened to pull it off. Your eyes followed the muscles of his arms, your hand smoothing over a pectoral as he leaned down to kiss you again. He dropped the shirt to the side, moving to remove yours as well.

You stopped him, urging him back down onto the cushions. You swung a leg over his hips slowly, running your hands down his chest before pulling off your shirt. Peter’s eyes dropped heatedly to your chest as you unclipped your bra, his lips parting. He looked almost awed as he stared up at you, his face cast in shadows by the dull lights above you. Your spine tingled at his expression, and you held his gaze as you ran your hands over your chest and rolled your hips slowly over his.

Peter’s head fall back against the pillows at the sensation, his eyes closing and a soft groan slipping between his lips. The sound was intoxicating, as was the feeling of the hard length of his erection pressing up against you. You bit your lip, brow creased as you slowly continued to grind against him. His hands slid up over your thighs, squeezing them rhythmically with every roll of your hips.

You scratched your nails lightly down his stomach before unfastening his pants and wrapping your fingers around his cock. His breath caught as you did, leaving him in a shaky sigh as you stroked him, moved your underwear to the side and slowly sunk down onto his erection. “Jesus Christ, Y/N…”

“Yeah,” you said breathlessly, offering him a cocky smile of your own. “You love it.”

He laughed quietly, taking hold of your hips as you began to fuck yourself onto him slowly. You leaned forward to take hold of his biceps, enjoying the feel of the bulging muscles under your hands as you rode him. He encouraged you to grind against his pelvic bone and you whimpered; you could feel him stretching you wonderfully, each corkscrew of your hips sending sparks dancing up your lower back.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he muttered, watching you with half-lidded eyes. He ran a hand up your side to your ribs, his thumb resting along the curve of the underside of your breast. “You’re like… fuck, you’re like…”

“Having trouble finding the words there, Star Lord?” you teased quietly, your head lolling back, your eyes closed. You moaned as he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers.

“Can’t help it,” he replied, exhaling slowly as you down to press kisses to his collarbone. His hand moved to your hair, bunching by your ear, and you felt his lips brush the top of your head. “None of my blood is exactly rushing to my brain right now.”

“I’m flattered,” you joked lightly, nipping playfully at his throat.

“But I can say: you call me that again, and this’ll be over a lot quicker than it should be.”

You giggled into his neck, kissing him headily before straightening again. You ran your hands up your sides, bouncing languidly on top of him. Each rise and fall had him sliding against your g-spot, and you bit your lip, your eyes rolling back as his hand returned to your sex. He circled your clit with his thumb and you moaned brokenly.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got fucking fantastic tits, sweets?”

You whined, cupping your breasts and squeezing. Your hips jerked as he pinched your clit, and he swore, thrusting up into you. “Somehow, it – oh, fuck, Peter—”

“God, you’ve got the sweetest voice,” he sat up, his free hand ghosting up your side and gliding over your chest. You shivered at the feeling of it, falling against him, your hips never stopping. Peter’s fingers quickened on your clit as you wrapped your arms around his neck, and he murmured in your ear as you tightened around him, an intoxicating mix of sweet nothings and cursing. You ran your fingers through his hair, clinging to him s you felt your orgasm approach.

Peter wrapped his other arm around your waist and bit down on your shoulder, and you came with a cry, hips stuttering against his as each wave of it hit.

Peter hooked his fingers under your chin and raised it gently from where your face was buried against his neck, pressing a kiss to your temple… your cheek… your forehead… the tip of your nose… as you came down, before cupping your face in his hand and capturing you in another breath-stealing kiss.

You rode him unsteadily as your hips shuddered with aftershocks, your thighs squeezing around him. Peter grunted against your lips, his moan muffled as he came, still buried inside you.

“Y/N…”

You kissed him again, your chest heaving against his, eyes fluttering open as you finally caught your breath. “Mmm?”

He grinned at you, pushing hair out of your face with a careful hand. “Yeah. You love it.”

You shoved at his chest, smiling as he laughed in response. You climbed off of his lap shakily, your face warm. “You’re such a—”

Peter let himself fall back against the pillows again, refastening his pants but not bothering with his belt. “Heartthrob? Casanova? Sexual—”

“Deviant?”

Peter smirked, reaching up to ruffle your hair. You ducked away from him, smacking at his arm as you found your bra and clipped it back into place. “Where’re you going?”

“The last thing we need is for the crew to come back and find us like this,” you pointed out, tugging on your pants and the first shirt you grabbed. “Rocket’ll never let us hear the end of it, and Drax’ll be… Drax.”

“That’s a good look on you.” Peter said, his hands tucked behind his head. You looked down at yourself; you’d pulled on his shirt instead of your own. You flushed, but he caught hold of your wrist before you could pull it off again. “Leave it.”

You smiled down at him softly, tucking hair behind your ear. “Isn’t that just as obvious?”

Peter’s hand moved down to your hand, delicately interlacing his fingers with yours. “Would it be so bad?”

“You… you want the others to know about this?”

He pushed himself up onto his elbow, his free hand sliding against the side of your neck and giving you an affectionate smile before pulling you down for a soft, lingering kiss.

tags: @peterquillthecutest @lovely-dreamer19 @wittyforachange @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @bombardia

if you would like to be tagged in future stories for quill or any other character, please let me know :) don’t forget to like/comment and please reblog :)

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