#so if his condition was in-line with that and it was hard for him to push himself in his chair then i could buy it

[silvercap]

24. Bedridden or 66. Bedside Manner, with comfort/caretaking from the team? Leon's gonna need it... (can be a continuation of something else, or a standalone, up to you)

He definitely does 😭 (For this prompt list)

Bedridden/Bedside Manner

"Fuck," Leon hisses weakly, arching backwards into Piers' arms as Jill tears yet another of the barbed spikes free of his thigh, the sound coming out closer to a sob. His breaths come harsh in his chest, one hand squeezing Chris's meaty palm in a death grip where he's decided to lean into Leon's space from the edge of the dusty bed, the other clawing into Piers' arm where it's been wrapped securely over Leon's chest. He shudders, sweat dripping down a temple.

"One more," Jill says grimly, to which Piers subtly tightens his hold. She doesn't give Leon a chance to prepare himself, cutting deep into his leg and yanking the final spike out in a gout of fresh blood. Leon can only gasp, spasming.

"Got--got anything for the poison, yet?" he slurs, feeling the burn of it through his veins now that the overwhelming source of pain has dulled. He thinks someone responds, but then Jill clamps down hard on his leg to provide pressure and Leon can't stop himself from passing out entirely.

He comes to with a cough, blinking blearily at the sensation of a cool cloth against his forehead, a callused thumb so large it can only belong to Chris sliding gently beneath his eye to collect the tears that have fallen there. He's still slumped against Piers' solid body, shivering weakly despite the warmth his fiancé provides. Leon moans.

"Shh," Chris soothes from Leon's left, Piers' hand smoothing over his hair as he shudders involuntarily. "We've got you."

Another, smaller hand is propped under his knee to hold it up, white gauze and bloodstained bandages visible in his blurry vision when he glances down. He winces as Jill pulls the top layer tight, bare thigh pale where it sticks out from beneath the thin blanket thrown haphazardly over his legs. He's still wearing his jacket, the distant growl of BOWs audible outside of the shack they've crawled into for shelter.

"Piers," Leon croaks as Jill finishes what she'd been doing and gently tucks his injured leg under the blanket, pulling it up until the top edge is aligned with the neckline of his t-shirt. "P-Piers--"

"It's okay. I'm here," Piers murmurs in a low voice, holding Leon tightly when his body spasms for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Piers..."

He can't remember what he'd been about to say. Chris's hand slides back into his, squeezing as Leon's eyelids flutter. He stays like that for a moment, trembling--until Piers is helping him slightly more upright, the metal edge of a canteen meeting his lips. The water is cool and soothing enough that Leon can reopen his eyes, Jill's solemn face meeting his where she holds the canteen on its side. Chris is beside her, looking worried, but Leon doesn't have the strength to comfort either of them. He's starting to feel a little sick, if he's honest, the full weight of whatever had been in those spikes wreaking havoc on his system.

"Thanks, nurse Valentine," he rasps when Jill pulls away, mainly in an attempt to lighten the mood. If anything, it makes the lines on Chris's forehead even more pronounced, voice lacking in enough conviction to play off his condition. He sighs. "We should--keep moving."

"Absolutely not." Piers is firm, then softens. "There's no way you can stand without help, and we have no idea what the toxin might do to you. Just rest."

"He's right," Chris says softly, voice too gentle. His brown eyes are wide and watery when Leon manages to look, a forced smile on his face like he's trying to convince himself that it's real. Jill pats Leon's uninjured shin.

"Sleep it off, Kennedy," she says roughly but not unkindly as she sits down in a chair near his feet, in typical Jill fashion. As if following the order, Leon's muscles suddenly relax, the cottony haze in his mind becoming more pronounced as he sags into Piers' arms. He whimpers. Spasms.

"It's okay," Piers whispers, voice cracking. Leon doesn't have the energy to ask why. He reaches up blindly, hand getting caught in the blanket until he can free it to brush his fingers against Piers' jaw.

Unconsciousness takes him.

#idk if this fits the prompt ahahdhshs #whump #ask game #my fics #drabbles #<33 #might do a gentler one you got me thinkin now hehe

[altocat]

I would say Sephiroth had to be heavily conditioned for Shinra to have him in line as long as they did. He would have been their biggest threat otherwise.

In Dirge of Cerberus, even the Deepground soldiers are aware of what they are and where they came from. They all know they were mistreated and experimented on and pushed to their limits as humans and why it was that way for them. And in response, they are all rebellious against Shinra and hateful. Or else they’re grieved over what they suffered, like Shelke.

All of Sephiroth’s past is a secret. He apparently has no limits to his strengths like an ordinary human and is able to withstand extreme damage without relying on endless doses of mako like the Deepground soldiers. He doesn’t degrade like normal Shinra soldiers either. He’s the world’s strongest warrior and doesn’t know why other than he’s been modified.

Shinra was smart enough to hide the truth and brainwash him to believe that he was with the right company, even if what they did upset him. He had no where else to go.

It’s no wonder he completely snapped at Nibelheim and turned on the world. Knowing what you were and why you were abused would have made anyone hateful, but discovering it all at once after being kept in the dark and thinking your life had been purposeful would have destroyed the mind.

On top of that, losing all of your potential family and realizing you weren’t human because your mother was deemed a monster by mankind…Sephiroth is understandably unstable when he leaves the library.

Conditioning and lies kept him from lashing out for a long time.

Based on all the evidence we've seen, it's extremely likely Sephiroth grew up in completely controlled conditions and was molded at an early age to view himself completely as a prop for Shinra. It's part of the reason why he pushes himself so hard, despite growing a sense of disdain for Shinra as he gets older. Despite having growing doubts and instances of rebellion, he still remains loyal to them. It's probable that he felt he really had no other purpose beyond what he could provide for Shinra. And what's more, Shinra was capitalizing on his sensitivity regarding his missing family. They ARE the only family Sephiroth has ever really known, the only reference in which he frames himself.

Sephiroth has pretty much always struggled with his identity. He's not really sure who or what he is. I theorize that he latches onto others so strongly because they help encompass a sense of self--he can come out of his comfort zone with them, express himself in ways he simply can't on his own. He's not treated like a weapon or an experiment. He's finally a person. That's why he deteriorates upon losing them, it's like an actual core of his identity is removed.

Sephiroth was always due for a breakdown given his story, trauma, and genetic heritage. But Shinra kept pushing to make it increasingly worse. They literally created a monster.

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephcanons #crisis core #sephiroth #first soldier #ffvii first soldier

[todayisafridaynight]

everyday i constantly think of masato's wheelchair and if that's his only one/main one no wonder he's so pissed at everyone

#snap chats #someone pointed this out to me like last year so im stealing it sorry cause I Think Of It Constantly #the handling of masato's disability will forever annoy me esp with how vague it is but esp his chair #one day ill draw masato with an appropriate wheelchair. maybe then he'll be happy for once #in a way i guess it could tie into how restricted or trapped he felt since the type of chair he's shown is more like. a hospital one #and not one youd really use as a regular user- like in that vein it is a bit of storytelling in that he can ONLY go out with help #since hospital chairs are SO much different from home chairs ESPECIALLY in regards to mobility and independence the user has #AND NOT TO MENTION HOW UNCOMFORTABLE THOSE CHAIRS ARE get his ass a proper cushion P L E A S E #like it portrays the idea that its unfathomable for him to go anywhere on his own and so in that vein . Interesting Storytelling #theres a lot of implications going on here if im so honest and again it makes for Really Interesting Story Telling #however i refuse to give rgg credit like that when it comes to disabilities. ... they havent earned that from me yet #see this is why the vagueness of his condition annoys me because he's shown to be independent enough to roll himself to his elevator #and presumably get himself dressed but he cant have a proper chair ? #because ik there are people who have expressed they have conditions where even writing is tiring #so if his condition was in-line with that and it was hard for him to push himself in his chair then i could buy it #obviously the issue lies with his lungs but i just want to know the full extent yk... #to wrap this up tho ive been thinking of character design in rgg and how we dont give credit to it enough #sooooo if i make a second post ten minutes from now thats why cause i keep forgetting to spam my thoughts on here LMAO #ok bye

[mirrortouchedsea]

rinniki + 21 or 5 🥺

Oh these are also both so cute but I'll go with 5 methinks

ask game

…where it doesn’t hurt.

---

Shit. Niki let go of the knife and drew his finger up to his mouth. He licked the blood off before assessing the damage. It wasn't deep but he'd have to have a band-aid on it for a few days and Rinne would never let him hear the end of it. That almost hurt more than the cut itself.

Niki walked over to the sink and turned on the water, taking a towel and gently cleaning his the cut. Where did they put the antiseptics again?

He jumped as a pair of arms wrapped around his torso.

"Oi, Niki, whatcha doin'?" Niki dropped the towel.

"Dishes. Leave me alone." He elbowed the man, his boyfriend, and grabbed for the box of band-aids on the counter.

"That doesn't look like dishes to me Niki-kyun~ Didya hurt yourself?" Rinne poked at Niki's shoulder. "Do ya need your Rinne-kun to kiss it all better?"

"Shut up Rinne-kun."

"Aw, don't be like that Niki~ c'mere." Niki had already finished putting the band-aid on when Rinne grabbed his hand and brought it to his lips. "There! All better!"

"You didn't even kiss the band-aid Rinne-kun!"

#message in a bottle #fortuneshiningg #rinniki #injury // #i was listening to a podcast about honey the other day and apparently honey can help wounds heal #i have to imagine rinne has done this before. used honey to treat cuts and shit i mean #this has nothing to do with the drabble above i just thought it was neat #also i have been sitting on this one debating what i should do for it. i was debating about potential insecurities for them #like niki its mentioned in rinne's new year line that he's trying to put on weight #so i was thinking maybe his stomach or other areas that typically store fat in other people #bc his condition makes it hard for him to build up fat stores like that #is still a potential idk but then i thought of this and well #maybe someday we can do tummy kisses (non sexual) rinniki #oh alsooooo i started. a new madashu wip. for the first time in a while #its an idea i've toyed with for a while and suddenly got inspired for it again so #you'll get to see part of it for wip wednesday i'm super excited to show you guys #okay i'm done tag rambling here thank you for the request!! mwah!

[murdrdocs]

mmmm thinkin abt mike struggling to be quiet when you’re fucking. SMUT 17+

you were watching abby that night, and as soon as mike got back from work he was on you. peppering kisses along your neck when you were around the corner just out of abby's line of sight, rubbing little circles in your thighs at the dinner table, sweetly asking you to stay longer even whenever the lights were off and abby was tucked in bed.

you knew his plea would result in the two of you in his bedroom, you slowly sinking yourself down onto him. you'd encouraged it, telling mike you'd give him wanted on one condition.

"anything," he'd said, eyes big and earnest.

"you gotta promise to be quiet." your pinkie hovered between you both, waiting for mike to interlink his. he did with a smile, as if it were something easy.

but mike couldn’t stop moaning. his sounds were cute, little gasps and whines. they were arousing. but they were entirely too loud for the low level of privacy you had within the four thin walls.

“mike, please. you gotta be quiet.” you plea through your own barely concealed moan.

he sighs, face scrunching. “i know. i’m sorry, baby. i’m trying.”

but apparently not hard enough as you’re forced to lodge your panties between his teeth, a muffler for his moans. he lets you do so, opening his mouth and even going so far as to make a show of sticking his tongue out for the blue cotton fabric. yet, his sounds still leak through, and you voice an idea as you’re bouncing on his cock, nails lightly scratching down his chest.

“still so loud, mikey. we might have to get a muzzle for nights like these. what’d you think?”

mike's groan practically echoes. he seems oblivious to his own noises, instead thinking with his dick that starts to piston up into you, mike's nails digging into your ass to provide him with leverage.

your hand slaps over his mouth, colliding with soft cotton and warm skin, and mike finally wrenches his eyes open. there's vibration against your hand, short and resembling the pattern of syllables, and you slowly peel your hand away, taking the panties with you, to hear him speak.

just a simple word, curt and quiet and whimpered.

"please."

#the muzzle 😈 #mschmidtsworld! #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt #mike schmidt smut #fnaf movie

[silkjade]

CLASSICAL CONDITIONING !

featuring— wriothesley x reader ⤀ cw: fem!reader, 'good girl', established relationship, unprotected + rough sex, overstimulation, use of handcuffs, lil bit of dom!wrio — ꒰ mdni ꒱ ⤀ summary: careful how you tease the duke a/n: i blacked out and when i came to, this was written && sitting pretty in my drafts

for the duration of your relationship, you’ve made it a habit to bring wriothesley tea every afternoon. it’s something that’s become so ingrained in his routine, that when the noon bell chimes two, he’s compelled to sit a little straighter, exchanging unrequited glances with the large double doors of his office.

as the minutes tick by, he finds himself a little more irritable, finds it admittedly more difficult to focus on the paperwork at hand. you're late and it's not until a quarter past, that he finally hears the familiar tap tap on the door, that indicates your much anticipated arrival.

by the time you make it to the top of the stairwell, the fragrance of freshly brewed tea has long filled the room, yet your boyfriend's eyes remain trained on the documents before him. unbeknownst to you however, he's been reading through the same line for the umpteenth time, clearly distracted without your little midday pick-me-up.

“for your hard work,” you hum, setting the teacup to his side before stepping away and just missing—though in his opinion, dodging—his expectant lips.

wriothesley blinks. it’s neither the tea nor the pastries that he looks forward to everyday, but the kisses that always follow—until today, apparently, where you’ve left him with the terrible notion that his lips are to remain grievously untouched.

he clears his throat. “aren’t you forgetting something?”

“hmm,” pouting, you tilt your head, brows loosely knitted with cluelessness. “i don’t think so.”

your duke leans back in his chair, arms crossed, before he huffs in amusement. “single handedly halting the productivity of the warden,” he lets out a low whistle, “could be a pretty hefty crime you know.”

“s’that so…” you seat yourself on the edge of his desk; it’s the playful little grin twitching at the corners of your lips that give you away. “well what’re you gonna do about it, your grace?”

it's quite cute how you giggle at the way he’s wrapped around your finger, and given the lovestruck look in his eyes, he truly does not mind at all. however, that's not to say he finds it fair.

because although they say it’s unwise to bite the hand that feeds you, this is not the nation of wisdom; here in fontaine, justice demands an equitable arrangement, and as the formidable duke of meropide, it's in his right to enact his own... so it really should be of no surprise when wriothesley shows no remorse as he drills into your gushing cunt, hellbent on conditioning you to cum on his cock and his cock only.

he makes sure to imprint the very shape of him into your walls: from the fat mushroom tip that first slips through your sticky folds, to the large bump of each vein dragging across your velvet insides—your little hole greedily swallows every thick inch of him. over and over, every thrust sheathes him to the hilt, and the heavy sounds of skin against skin echo through the room.

the sudden cold of his fingers on your clit sends a shudder through your core, jolting as he begins to press and toy with the nub, legs twitching while his heavy balls continue to slap against your puffy pussy lips. you squirm in his hold—far too sensitive to cum again, but you're so close.

your hips bounce back and forth, alternating between the hard edge of the desk that presses sharply into your skin, and the merciless ruts that penetrate so deep inside. but like the doting lover he is, wriothesley takes note of your woes and makes a decision for you. he presses his weight into you, grazing his teeth lightly down the nape of your neck.

"ah ah," he coos, "c'mon you can take it. be a good girl for me, yeah?"

it's a shaky, dreamy imitation of your voice, that nods along to the thin facade of agency; with your wrists cuffed behind your back, and body bent over, imprisoned between the warden and his desk, the only thing you can do is to take it.

still, your walls tighten around him nonetheless, prompting him to angle his hips, hitting that spot with a precision that only comes with experience. you keen beneath him, spiraling into yet another dose of exhilarating bliss as you cum again, creaming all over the girthy shaft still buried in your wet mess of a cunt.

and as you're still shuddering from the intensity, consumed completely in the pleasure, wriothesley continues to grind your insides. he's far from finished and intends to carry on until you’re blissed beyond any semblance of sane, drunk on the memory of being molded to his fat cock.

a/n2: reblogs and feedback appreciated, as always ^^ ty for reading !

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ༯ #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x you

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

[talaok]

Love your writing! Could we please do a cute pregnant reader x Pedro going to and at the SAG awards in honour of our boy winning! 🤍🙏🏼

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x pregnant!reader

a/n: this is how i found out he won btw. I'm so happy for him i cant even, I just love that fucking guy gosh ahhhh (as always this request skipped the line bc it wouldnt make sense in a month)

Gif credits: @tessas-thompson

"thank you" you told him as he emerged from underneath your bump after having slipped your shoes on for you.

Turns out that when you're 7 months and a half pregnant, the most basic tasks like putting on shoes become a two person job.

He only smiled, kissing your belly and then your lips before standing up, offering you a hand to do the same.

"Heels would have looked much better with this dress" you pouted, studying yourself in the mirror, 

You hated ballerinas, but again, you weren't really in the condition to wear anything else.

"You look stunning sugar" he promised, kissing the crown of your head

You couldn't help but snort.

As much as he told you so over and over, together with everyone else in your life... you still struggled to see it, especially now in this uncomfortable dress.

"I look like a stuffed turkey" you sighed "and my boobs are so much bigger than when I first tried this dress, now they look a move away from spilling out"

His eyes twinkled with kindness, with love as he placed his hands on your waist and turned you towards him, away from your reflection.

"You're beautiful sweetheart" he promised, one hand now stroking your cheek as your own hands went to his waist "You're sexy and gorgeous and so fucking hot that if Coco wasn't still here I would demonstrate just how much right here right now" he growled, not giving you time to answer before he kissed you, soft at first, and then once you whimpered, it was like a switch turned and he was fiery and passionate and his left hand trailed to your ass and-

"Pedro!" you scolded him quietly, eyeing Coco on the other side of the room.

"she's seen worse"

She had.

Nonetheless, he took a step back, returning his hand to your waist.

"Thank you" you murmured, looking up into his hazel eyes "and by they way, you look very beautiful too"

You could have sworn you saw red staining his cheeks 

"thank you baby"

You adjusted his shirt, as you got lost in your own mind.

There he was, you beautiful, talented, Emmy, golden globe and SAG award nominated husband, looking every bit as perfect as ever.

And just like that, tears pooled in your eyes

"what's wrong?" he asked, worried

"I just-" you sniffled, trying to fight the tears as your lips trembled "I-I'm so proud of you"

"aw sweetheart" he cooed, half laughing as he wrapped you into his arms.

He'd gotten used to it now, taking care of your over-emotional self was part of his daily routine.

"Y-you just" you cried "you worked so hard a-" another quiet sob "and n- now you're finally getting the recognition you deserve I-"

"I know baby, I know" he cooed, softly kissing the top of your head "thank you" he smiled, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your back "It means a lot to me too,"

"I love you" you murmured, finally raising your head to look at him

"I love you too honey" he kissed you, laughing softly as he pulled back to see tears still running down your cheeks "You're gonna cry the whole night, aren't you?"

"I made the makeup artist use only waterproof products" was your way of saying yes, yes I'm going to, and yes I've already planned ahead

He chuckled, kissing your forehead as his hands trailed to your bump, soft kicks hitting his palms.

"She's excited" he murmured

"She's proud of her daddy too" 

__ __ __

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro P-

Your husband. they had called your husband.

It was probably comical from the outside, seeing the shock on both your faces as you stared blankly at each other, the way your mouth gaped open, while he slapped a hand onto his, it was like- it was like time had stopped, and the word went completely quiet, until- until-

"oh my god" you breathed, throwing your arms around him and hugging him so tight it probably hurt

He didn't dare speak a word as you leaned away, landing a kiss on his mouth as you gripped his face 

"go" you laughed, grinning like an idiot as tears glimmered into your eyes "go" you urged again, this time, having him comply.

You watched every step, every move, until he was right in front of the microphone, his award in his hands.

"This is umh" he mumbled "This is wrong for a number of reasons-" 

he was in shock, his voice trembling, his eyes watery, but he kept going

"b-but thank you hbo, Bella Ramsey, Craig Mazin, Neil Drukman, Frannie, and -" A shaky sigh fled his mouth, as he chuckled to himself "jeez louise I'm making a fool of myself and my wife is gonna make so much fun of me for it and-"

All the sudden his eyes were on you, 

"my wife" he smiled, his smile brighter than the sun "I wanna thank my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, and perfect wife" he said "I love you y/n, I love you and our daughter more than anything in this world and if I'm here today- If I'm here today is mostly because of you" 

You were shaking from how hard you were crying, from how happy, ecstatic, and euphoric you were for him.

"You've made me the happiest man on this earth, you've made me a dad, you- you're my everything sweetheart" he beamed "so thank you"

He stopped a moment, as if realizing only now this had all really happened

"And now I'm gonna stop talking 'cause I need to get down there to kiss you and try to make you stop crying" he laughed, ending his speech

"thank you, everybody, really, thank you"

__ __ __ 

He did exactly as he said,

he held you tight as he kissed you like the world was gonna end tomorrow, like if he didn't he was gonna die

And when he leaned away- when he leaned away time stopped once again, but as he pressed his forehead to yours, as you lost yourself in each other's eyes, you remembered

"You said it was wrong" you said, both your hands holding his face "but it's not" you shook your head, watching his eyes water "you deserve this baby, you do"

"sweetheart-"

"no" you shut him off, your voice hoarse from the sobs, but it didn't matter, you wanted him to know, you needed him to know "No I need you to understand that you do baby" You smiled "that you worked your ass off and that you deserve every single inch of this award" you took a deep breath, steadying your voice as you looked at him, so many unspoken words traveling between you

"ok?" you asked, finally

"ok" he beamed, kissing you again "God I love you so much"

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x f!reader #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal x fem reader #sag awards 2024 #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal x fem!reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x female reader #sag awards #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #dad!pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller #tlou #the mandalorian #javier peña #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #fluff #pedrohub #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedrito #pedro pascal x gn reader

[a-simple-gaywitch]

The Boy Next Door

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) and Spencer Reid have been best friends nearly all their lives. Everyone in their lives can see how head-over-heels in love with each other they are. The only ones that can’t? Themselves.

Warnings: minor miscommunication

Word Count: 2307

Author’s Note: my first fic finished in FOREVER! I’m actually pretty happy with this one

“There’s something about childhood friends that you just can’t replace.” - actress Lisa Whelchel

~

“Hey, Pretty Boy. Want to come grab dinner with us tonight?” Morgan asked as the team started gathering their belongings to leave for the day. 

“Sorry, can’t,” Spencer said, hurriedly gathering his stuff and shoving it haphazardly in his satchel. “Gotta pick up a friend from the airport.” The team didn’t miss the sparkle in his eyes nor the wide smile as he rushed from the bullpen.

“You think he’ll ever introduce us to this friend?” Emily asked, sidling up beside Derek. 

“Who knows,” he sighed. “You know he’s a private person. He didn’t even tell us about his mom until he had no other choice.”

~

Spencer stood at the baggage claim, his head on a swivel. To say he was beyond excited was an understatement. He was practically bouncing in place as he scanned the crowd of people coming over to collect their belongings. 

Thankfully, he didn’t need to wait for very long. 

“Spencer!”

He spun around quickly to see (Y/N) (L/N), his best friend in the entire world, running over to him. He scooped you up in a hug, spinning you around as you squealed happily.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Spencer said, setting you down. 

“I know! It’s usually the other way around, isn’t it?” you said, taking Spencer’s hand and leading him over to the carousel of luggage. “I feel like it’s always you coming to see me.”

“And you’re here for a whole week,” Spencer said, giving your hand a squeeze. 

You smiled and leaned into his side. “Oh, my god, you’ll never guess what happened on the flight!”

~

You and Spencer grew up next door to each other. Your family had moved to Nevada when you were about 5 years old, into a house next to the Reids. 

You’d always been outgoing and extroverted, so you took it upon yourself to introduce yourself to the boy with the big glasses in the next yard over while your father was building a swing set. 

“Hi! I’m (Y/N)!” you’d said, leaning over the fence. The boy with the glasses was sitting in the grass, a large book propped up against his legs. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, uh, I-I’m Spencer,” he’d told you. 

You hiked yourself up over the fence and sat down next to him in the grass. “Hi, Spencer. What book is that?”

From that moment on, you and Spencer were near inseparable. Your mother joked that you were each other’s missing pieces. Where you were extroverted, Spencer was introverted. Where you had an interest in all things science and mathematics, Spencer had a love for the classics. 

After William left, your family stepped in to help Diana wherever possible. At least once a week, your mom would bring dinner over. If Spencer just needed to get out, he knew where the spare key was hidden. Your parents would drive Spencer to and from school, especially after the incident on the soccer field. 

When Spencer went off to college, your parents promised to keep an eye on Diana for him, as her condition was getting worse. In exchange, Spencer had to come home for dinner every other week. It wasn’t a hard bargain to keep. Spencer missed you while he was at school, and your parents genuinely worried for Diana. On her good days, she and your mom were close, sharing coffee and discussing novels and poetry together. 

Even when Spencer couldn’t come home to visit, he’d still spend hours on the phone with you. Your father would joke that the two of you were running up his phone bill and tying up the line, but you both knew he wasn’t seriously annoyed. 

Everyone in your lives were shocked you’d never dated. You’d both always claimed you were just best friends.

~

Spencer walked into the bullpen with a spring in his step. Rather than spending money on a hotel, you were staying in Spencer’s spare room while you were in town. Spencer had offered to take the week off, but you’d rejected the offer, knowing how important his job was. Besides, you were at a conference for your work most of the day. 

“Just as long as you don’t get hauled halfway across the country,” you’d joked. 

Spencer flopped onto his desk chair, a smile across his face. 

“Hey, Reid,” Emily said as she came in, setting her stuff at her own desk. 

“Hi, Emily,” he said, smiling down at the text you’d just sent him. 

(Y/N): SOMEONE BROUGHT THEIR DOG ON THE TRAIN!!!! 

(Y/N): IT WAS A BIG DOG STUFFED IN AN IKEA BAG!!!

“So, how long is your friend in town?” she asked. 

“The week,” Spencer told him as you sent him a picture of said dog. “She has a conference at the Kennedy Center.”

“You know,” Emily started, “you should invite her to join us for Happy Hour. Let us get to know her a bit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Aw, come on Reid! Why won’t you introduce us?”

“We talking about this Mystery Woman?” Morgan asked, coming over to the two adjoining desks. 

“Yeah. Reid’s refusing to introduce her to us.”

“Aw, come on, Kid. Are we really that bad?” Morgan said, leaning on his desk. 

Spencer sighed and rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to let up on this, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, grabbing his phone. 

Spencer: Hey, do you want to go out with my coworkers tonight? Our regular bar is having trivia night.

(Y/N): Sure, sounds fun!

Spencer let out a long sigh. “We’ll be there.”

~

“So, (Y/N),” Garcia said, sipping on her fruity drink, “Spencer said you’re in town for a work conference?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said. “I’m a neuropsychology researcher. My team’s most recent study got selected for a national conference, and they chose me as the spokesperson.” 

“Interesting. What’s the study?”

“We were looking at how psychological trauma impacts the physical structure of the brain.”

Spencer looked at you and how your face lit up as you told his team about your research. He was jolted out of his thoughts when he heard Prentiss speak up. 

“I guess it’s lucky you got chosen to speak about it then.”

“Oh, it’s not lucky,” you laughed. “I’m the only person involved in the study who isn’t a crippling introvert. I volunteered for it and they basically threw the money for accommodations at me in gratitude.” You leaned into Spencer’s side and sipped on the single drink you’d ordered. 

“So, work keeps you pretty busy, then?” Morgan asked. “I mean, Spencer’s been talking about you forever and this is the first time we’re meeting you.”

“Well, I do tend to be pretty busy. Usually Spence comes home to see us, not the other way around.”

“So, you still live out in Nevada, then?” JJ asked. 

“No, I actually live in California. I work at Stanford University but I visit my parents and Spencer’s mom about once a month.” You took a sip of your drink and leaned into Spencer’s side. The team looked at how you were curled up in Spencer’s space. They all knew how Spencer felt about physical contact. 

~

The next morning at the office, Morgan rolled his chair over to Spencer’s desk. 

“So, (Y/N)’s cool,” he said. “We like her.”

“Oh. Cool,” Spencer said, fighting back a smile. 

“Yeah, not only is she smart, but she’s cool, too. She’s like a cooler you.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Sure.”

“So, why haven’t you asked her out?”

“What?”

“Come on, kid, she’s perfect for you.”

“She’s my best friend, Morgan.”

“Exactly.” Morgan rapped gently on Reid’s desk. “Just think about it.”

~

“Hey, Spence,” you said as you walked into his apartment. 

“Hey,” he said without looking up from his book. “How was your day?”

“Oh, um, it was- it was good,” you said, walking over to sit with him. 

He sat the book on the coffee table and turned to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

You took a deep breath. “I got a job offer today.”

“What? That’s amazing! What’s the job?”

“It’s a lead researcher position at the University of Munich.” You bit your lip as you looked at Spencer, gauging his reaction.

“Oh! That’s-that’s great,” he said. “That’s- I mean, do you want the job?”

“Well, it’s a good offer,” you said. “I’d be heading up a research project on treatments for schizophrenia which, you know, has always been my goal. But I’d have to move to Germany. On the other hand, the benefits are great, and it would be a major pay raise.”

“Well, then, you should take it.”

“Oh.” You cleared your throat. “Oh, um, I just remembered. I was, uh, I was supposed to meet some colleagues for drinks.” You got up and rushed out the door, leaving a very confused Spencer sitting alone in his apartment. 

~

“I don’t get it,” Spencer said, spinning around in his chair. “She asked me what I thought about the job offer, I told her, and now she’s mad at me? She’s never been this mad at me before. She got herself a hotel room. I just- I don’t know what I did.”

“Walk us through it, Reid,” Emily said. “Walk us through exactly what happened.”

“She got a job offer from the University of Munich. It’s a great offer, better position, payment to relocate, all that kind of stuff. So I told her she should take it and-”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” JJ cut in. “You told her to take the job?”

“Yeah? Why is that- What did I do wrong?”

JJ sighed. “Spence, it’s not just about the job.”

“You basically told her she should move halfway across the globe,” Emily said. “You’re effectively sending her away.”

“What? That’s not- that’s not what I want! That’s not- I don’t want that at all!”

“Then tell her that, Spence,” JJ said. “Look, it’s clear you’re in love with her. We all see it.”

“And for what it’s worth, (Y/N) feels the same,” Emily said. 

~

You were moping on a hotel bed, blankly staring at the sitcom playing on the TV, when someone started pounding on the door. 

“(Y/N), it’s me,” Spencer said from the other side of the door, still pounding against it.  “Open up. We need to talk.”

You dragged yourself out of the bed, wrapping the duvet around yourself. You trudged to the door where Spencer was still knocking. 

“Okay, okay, don’t burst the door down,” you grumbled, opening the door. Any residual anger you felt toward Spencer evaporated the moment you saw him. His hair was in disarray, his clothes were rumpled, and it looked like he hadn’t slept since you saw him last. “Oh, Spence,” you whispered. 

“We need to talk,” he said, slipping into the room. After taking a seat on the bed, he said, “Don’t take the job in Munich. Don’t go to Germany.”

“Spencer-”

“I talked with some admin over at George Washington U. They have an assistant professor job open in their biochem department. I can get you an interview without a problem and I can even help you look for an apartment if you want, just- don’t go.”

“Spencer-”

“(Y/N), I love you.”

You froze. “What?”

“You- you don’t have to say it back,” Spencer said. “But the thought of you being even further away- it kills me. I’m in love with you. And I think I always have been.”

You reached over and took his hand. “Spence. I love you, too.”

Spencer’s face broke into the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. “What? Really?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “Spencer, I've been in love with you since we were 16 years old.”

“What? Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

You shrugged and stood up, pacing in front of the bed. “It was never the right time. Either you were in school or I was in school or you were starting a job or I was starting a job-“ you sighed. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never dated? Didn’t you wonder why I only had 1 boyfriend when I was in high school and we broke up after, like, a month?”

“I just- I just figured you weren’t the dating type.”

You gave a small, sad smile. “No. It’s because my heart has always belonged to you. He knew it. Mom and Dad knew it. Everyone knew it before I did. Except you.”

Spencer smiled and shook his head, standing to join you. “We wasted so much time.” You saw a mischievous glint sharpen in his eyes. “And I’m not wasting anymore.” Spencer cupped your face and kissed you until you felt your knees go weak. He lifted you up and tossed you onto the hotel bed as you giggled. 

~

Spencer knocked on Hotch’s door before pushing it open. “Hotch? Can I talk to you?”

Hotch gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit. What’s up, Reid?”

“Uh, can I have two weeks off next month? I, uh, I’m helping my girlfriend move.” He couldn’t fight the smile on his face. 

“Your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, uh, (Y/N). We-we made it official. She’s moving to D.C. She got a job teaching at the university.”

“She moving in with you?” Hotch asked. “Seems a bit fast, don’t you think?”

“Well, no,” Spencer said. “I mean, yes, she’s moving in with me, but no, it’s not fast. We’ve known each other our entire lives. We know everything about each other. It makes sense.”

The corners of Hotch’s mouth twitched. “Well, you’ve definitely accrued enough vacation time. I’ll file the time off paperwork.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” Spencer got up to leave.

“Oh, and Reid?” Hotch called. Spencer turned around. “It’s good to see you smiling.”

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

[cosmosis]

MOVED TO @seratopia

miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - surprise visit modern au!

an unfamiliar secretary won’t let you into the building to visit your husband, Miguel, at his office

Visiting your husband at work may as well be the best way for you to spend your day off. He’s been working hard, his passion truly bursting at the seams when he talks to you about the latest improvement project he’s been working on for the past three weeks. 

You’re walking down the sidewalk in an outfit you knew would make Miguel go crazy, holding a nice bouquet of flowers in your arm. You decided men don’t get flowers enough, so you’re here to fill in that gap. He really deserves more than flowers anyway. 

With the badge embedded into your watch, you scan your wrist against the access monitor on the wall. The doors automatically open, and you feel a nice gust of air conditioning run into you. 

The office is very modern, clean, and sleek. All around you are advanced units of technology; a result of your husband’s successes. It smells the same it always has; clean, crisp, and slightly minty. As you walk through the doors, you’re greeted with the exact same things you always are; same lounge chairs, same grand elevator... 

Though, you don’t recognize the secretary at the desk. 

She’s blonde, red lipstick smeared onto her tight lips in an unwelcoming frown. A matching pearl set adorned over her crisp, dark blue blazer. 

Usually, you’d say hi to the secretary you knew, Lyla. You assume she got fired, which was a real shame, you love her sass. She was always so kind to you, saying hi with a smile, or offering to help guide you through the office and such. 

But instead, you walk right past the desk, digging through your memories to find how you managed to find Miguel’s main office last time. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?“

Her voice is just as snarky as you had imagined. 

“Visiting Miguel?“ You pause, your patience already growing extremely thin for the new secretary. You’d probably chat about this to Miguel later, maybe bat an eyelash or two to convince him about hiring someone different. 

“Nuh uh! Miguel O’Hara is busy right now, not open for any visitors at the moment.“ She replies, fixating her eyes on the large monitor in front of her. 

You pause for a moment, critically thinking things through for a moment. 

“Oh! I get it. M’am, you haven’t met me before, have you?“ You ask, trying your best to not crinkle the flowers in your hands. She raises a single eyebrow, glaring as if you insulted her mother. (Which, you might as well should do.)

“I’m Miguel’s spouse. He lets me visit him whenever, I even have my badge right here-“

She holds up a single manicured finger. 

“Nice try, but my charts right here say that Miguel is busy at the moment. Try another time, maybe send him a fan letter or something.“

Your blood starts to boil as the new secretary has a satisfied smirk on her face. 

Instead of choosing violence and risking your hair getting ruined, you opt for the better option. Glaring at the desk manager directly in the eye, you pull out your cellphone from your pocket, manually pressing the contact button for Miguel. You wait for the phone to dial, pressing the cellular to your ear whilst examining your own nails. 

And finally, he answers. 

“Hm? You need something, honey?“

“Miguel.“

Miguel on the other line, freezes to a halt. Now, he knows he’s in trouble. Carefully, he clears his throat. 

“What is it, sweetie?“

You take a deep breath. “Your... secretary isn’t letting me into the office. Will you fix that, please?”

Miguel pinches between his eyebrows, groaning. 

“Of course, hun. I’ll be down in a sec.“

“Thank you, Miguel.“

The call ends, but the secretary still stares at you like you’ve thrown up all over her salad. She almost looks like she’s going to laugh, which makes you even madder. 

Within literally a few seconds, the elevator whirs to a halt, the top light switching on with a chime. As expected, your husband walks through the sliding doors, clad in a crisp white dress shirt and office pants. He’s so undeniably gorgeous, you almost consider forgiving the secretary. 

But, you don’t. 

“Ah, Miguel, this p-“

“Shut your mouth for moment, would you?“

The woman is taken aback, red bursting onto her cheeks as her fake smile melts into a frown. Her mouth is left agape, watching as Miguel saunters over to you with a smile. 

“What happened?“ Miguel asks, his Office Face™ dissolving into a genuine smile. He slots his hands to your waist, silently peering at the flowers in your arms. 

“Well, I was going to come surprise you... but then she said that you were busy.” You reply, pouting. 

“Aww, baby, it’s okay.“ He smooches the top of your head. “The flowers are pretty. I’ll handle this.“

Miguel then swerves around, this time with his Office Face™ on. He keeps his hand glued to your side, each step of his getting louder and louder as he makes his way towards the desk. 

“Tiffany.“

Tiffany, in question, shudders, keeping her eyes glued to the floor while a shit-eating smirk finds its’ way onto your face. No remorse whatsoever. 

“From now, until tonight, please let my partner into the building whenever they like.“

“Yes, sir. Why until tonight?“ 

“Because I’m firing you from any future stand-in’s, or any sort of work in here for the matter.“

Miguel: 1 Tiffany: 0

Tiffany looks like she has so much she wants to say, so much that she could scream at this very moment... but instead, she stays silent. You can see a vein practically ready to burst at her temple, her jaw grinding her teeth in her mouth. 

“I will dismiss you at the end of the day, Tiffany. I expect you to cause no more trouble until then.“

Tiffany is left utterly speechless, her jaw left slightly agape. Miguel ushers you by your back towards the elevator, poking and prodding his finger at the flowers in your grasp. 

Automatically, the elevator doors smoothly slide open, and you both step inside. You stare at the glass view outside, watching as the two of you get higher and higher above the city.

“I even had my badge, and she didn’t let me.“ You frown, indulgently leaning into Miguel’s chest. 

“I’m sorry, hun. Lyla’s out sick for a bit, so she was the only substitute I could find for today.“

Apologetically, he rubs your back, secretly praying that you’d forget about the whole ordeal so you’d pay attention to him instead. 

“S’okay. Thank god Lyla wasn’t fired.“ You mumble, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“She’s annoying, but she does her job well.“ Miguel remarks, and you gasp, personally offended on behalf of your beloved Lyla. 

“No she’s not! She’s super nice, actually.“

“Whatever.” Miguel scoffs. “Kiss me.”

“No. You called Lyla annoying.” 

these oneshots have really skyrocketed my account! thank you guys so much for the positive feedback, i love loveee reading all the comments i get! please stay tuned for more!

- cosmosis <333

© 𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒔.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara spider man #spider man #spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #lyla #atsv lyla #lyla across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #atsv #x reader #reader insert #fluff #romance #cosmosis-writes ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC X DP: The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King.

Danny Fenton is new to his title.

It's been about two years since he defeated Pariah Dark and inherited his seat through the right of conquest. Now Danny knew, on some level, that Pariah was King of Ghosts, but in all honestly, he had been preoccupied with getting his town back from the zone and keeping his friends and family (and the rest of the town, he guessed) alive.

The victory had been just within the lines of a fair fight, only because a dew ghost argued that his shifting his dad's ecto-skeleton suit was a form of armor only after his power ran over it.

If Danny had fought in the ecto-skeleton suit without doing so then it would not have been considered a fair fight as it wasn't his own strength, and thus, he would not won the right of conquest.

But he did. And now Danny was crowned Ghost King. Which came with all sorts of responsibilities and proper conduct for someone of his new stature.

Many ghosts were willing to teach him the way- Princess Dora, Clockwork, Frostbite, Ghostwriter, and even the Observants- but Danny struggled to adjust. He had no idea being King meant he had to play diplomat to the literal multiverse- as the Ghost Zone or Infinite Realms touched every possible world at every possible time- and follow specific rules of being a Ghost.

A vampire could not entire a home without being invited in.

A fae could not take control over a human without knowing their name.

And a ghost could not make a chance to the living plane without meeting requirements, like an agreement on a contract.

That was why the Ghosts never passed Amity Park's limits and why Pariah Dark had chosen to take the town into his domain instead of expanding his attack. The Fentons have unknowingly created an open contract with anything that could get past their portal by opening it up and claiming themselves the protectors against ghosts kind.

If a ghost could defeat everyone in the Fenton household- as the ground of where the zone was open and the beings calling that location a home- then they would become the portal's rulers and be able to leave the city. Thankfully, that contact applied to Danny, and he had never lost, no matter who challenged him.

His ghost sense activated the contract, alerting him of a new challenger. After finding his family contract, Danny had thrown a fit in the Ghost King's Keep. Thankfully, he could close it with the help of Clockwork, who agreed to be his final challenger, and once he won, the portal was forever closed.

Danny then discovered he had to create his own Ghost Conditions as Phantom, The Protective Spirt of Amity Park, and Phantom, the Ghost King. He argued with the Infinite Releams council, something he installed to help him rule and to lowkey have them continue to govern themselves with his own laws, keeping them from killing each other- until his core began to deteriorate the more he neglected his Ghost Conditions.

Clockwork has to intervene, telling him in little words to write up his Ghost Conditions and have them ready in a month or experience his soul being ripped apart by nature.

Danny agreed to write up the Conditions as soon as he could....and then did what any sixteen-year-old teenager would do with a work assignment. He procrastinated until the night before it was due.

Panicked, he sat down in front of his laptop to write, telling his parents he had a big essay due and could not answer any calls until late.

At three am of the following day, Clockworked appeared for his Ghost Conditions which outlined his limitations and certain requirements for Danny to operate.

He worked hard on Phantom, The Protective Spirt of Amity Park, to allow him to live everyday human life and shift into a ghost to protect his town whenever he needs to. He ensured that he could not be used to cause human death by a weapon in a mortal war, and his condition for working on behalf of a human was to have a recommendation letter from both FrostBite and Clockwork out of both ghost-freewill.

He figured it would make it practically impossible to make him a weapon or make him do anything against his will. He didn't want to end up like Ember or Desiree, who relied on mortals to get power, but he also did not want to be so obsessive about protecting something he forwent everything like Sculker or Walker.

He spent so much time on it that he forgot to leave time to work on the Phantom, and Ghost King lists until his eyes were dropping closed and Clockwork was messaging him that he was on his way to both lists.

Danny panicked and wrote something down- hoping he would redo the assignment later on- just to have something to turn in. The lack of sleep and stress caused him to not think clearly.

When he woke seven hours later, he realized this wasn't just some English assignment he could ask his teacher to let him redo. This was set in stone conditions and said conditions had already been passed around the multiverse. Some of his work even appears in his timeline, in some ancient civilization, thanks to Clockwork flinging copies of his Ghost Conditions into time portals.

Thank the Ancient Cores that Danny had copied and pasted the parts of about not making him a weapon for mortal wars or mindlessly killer. He hoped that it wouldn't come to bite him in the ass.

It bit him in the ass a week later when an alien threat so big the Heros of the Justice League were so desperate for a counter-attack they allowed Batman to attempt to summon the Ghost King even at the Justice League Dark's warning.

Batman had known about the Ghost King's Summoning Conditions from his time with Ra's Al Ghul. It was, after all, Ra's civilization that had been the one to find Danny's list from Clockworks time portals.

Danny knew this because one of the conditions was letting him know of the human's intention before they could summon him. He honestly heard whatever Batman was thinking and whatever the man could hear.

"Bats, this is baty even for you!" A disembodied voice hissed. Danny was startled so hard on his bed, having been scrolling on his phone when the British man spoke.

"If we can convince the King that the lives of Earth are at risk, he will aid us in the battle. He can not kill humans, but the aliens are not human." Batman answered, and Danny felt his core drop. Oh no. a loophole.

"Or he could kill everything around in a fit of rage!" The other man yelled. "No one understands the Ghost King! His Conditions were so open-ended anything could happen!"

Hey, Danny thought they were pretty solid, actually.

"Doesn't matter. We are out of options." Batman replied, and between one moment and the next, Danny was floating above a summoning circle, still wearing his snowflake pajamas- complete with a large holding- his phone in the same lying on his stomach position.

Thankfully, he was in his ghost form.

"What-"

"Phantom, Ghost King, I call upon you for aid. The lives of all human life are at risk of destruction." Batman said, his thoughts silent like the grave, and Danny had no idea what he was thinking.

Danm. Danny's wording of "Knowing a human's intention before summoning the King" meant that he could not hear the human's intention once the summon happened. Maybe his language was too open-ended.

"Ugh." He slowly sat up in a cross-leg position, eyeing the gathered heroes. It looked like all of the Justice League was present- all looking worse for wear. Whatever aliens were, the League wasn't kidding when they sent out an emergency shelter notice. "Um, that is...Well, you see, the funny thing is you have to pass some trials before I can help you. Batman Sir."

The Dark Knight showed no outward emotion as he nodded even as a few heroes seemed confused by Danny's nervousness. "I will undergo them."

Please disagree. Danny wanted to scream, flushing a bright green. He wrote those trails in two minutes. They are embarrassing!

Instead, he heard himself say as if speaking from his frozen ice core. "You must pass all my trails. The first shall begin right now and you must have opponents of those you cherish the most. They must be someone you love so much that the thought of them hurting will destroy you. They must take part now or drop dead if they refuse."

A glowing green snowflake appears under the feet of five individuals in the crowd. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Spoiler.are dragged to the front of the crowd, to stand next to Batman in the Ghost Kind's trails.

Batman froze and a man in a trench coat swore. "I warned you!"

"Wait!" Flash yelled, but it was too late. The Ghost King Trails had already begun. Danny wanted to scream, but he felt his body move one arm up, creating a sizeable frozen slate of ice to hover over the heroes.

A familiar song filled the air as smaller slates appeared before each hero. Words slowly carved across the large and small ice, much to the confusion of everyone present.

"Is...Is this Kahoot?" Red Robin dared to ask, watching the words finish being made, and the Kahoot music continued to count down.

Danny wants to hide his face in his hands, but he instead shouts, "The first to twenty is the victor and shall be the one I shall give my aid to! Now time is running out, humans, pick your answer for... Question one...According to the Ghost King, which Gotham hero has the best ass?"

Ding.

Everyone turned to Orphan when she quickly pressed B. on her ice tablet. Since she was the only one who moved in time before the timer ran out, her answer was displayed before all eyes.

She chose correctly. B. for Red Robin.

Orphan shrugs at Red Robin's gape. "His Highness' eyes did a slow up and down when they spotted you. It wasn't hard to guess."

Danny thought making a Kahoot was fast, and no one would be able to guess the answers to questions about himself. He thought it was foolproof.

He was wrong.

"Question two: Which is the prettiest star in the Milky Way!" Danny shouts in a pompous tone that contradicts his embarrassed frown and glowing green blush.

The heroes of Gotham stare at him before they all press A for Sirius.

"How!?" He asks when all of them get the answer right. Right now, Orphan is winning, so she is the closest to his contact dealer.

"You're wearing the star on your nightcap," Red Hood deadpans.

"Q-Question three.....What is the Ghost King's favorite Holiday?"

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Nightwing, Red Robin, Red Hood, Spoiler, and Orphan picked D. for Halloween but only Batman chooses correctly with B. for Valentine's Day.

He does not explain how he knows that, and Danny is starting to worry the greatest detective in the world is going to figure all his answers out, and he will end up serving them.

Sweating, he moves on to the next question as John Consistent watches on, wondering if he indeed was an Occult expert as he thought or not because none of what was happening was what he thought would happen.

They may stand a chance yet.

Master Post Link

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #The Summoning Conditions of the Ghost King #ghost king danny #crack taken seriously #Danny's trails are what you expect from a procrastinator #The bats are literally the best detectives ever #They are breezing through trail one #John Constantine would kick his Occult degree in the trash if he had one after this #Dead tired

[hazbn-oneshots]

Bathtime Headcanons

Just a few headcanons for sharing a bubble bath with the main characters. Enjoy!

Charlie:

oddly enough Charlie doesn’t partake in full baths as much as she favors showers.

She’s busy dealing with the hotel and along with ruling as the Princess of Hell so she much prefers a quick warm spray.

On the occasion, however, she finds herself tired enough that you might just be able to convince her to indulge with you. 

You make a point of dredging up any kind of bubble bath, bath bomb, lotion, anything you can find to ensure that you can provide the best bubble bath possible.

Music plays softly over a small speaker, but it’s drowned out the hushed whispers of words of love as you meticulously wash and condition her hair.

Conditioning is your favorite step. Charlie didn’t need it often as her hair somehow stayed so silky, so every now and then when you got to run a soft brush through her hair, twisting it gently to pin atop her head.

She tries to wash you in return but you always push her hand away, insisting on pampering her after a hard day.

Usually ends with you drying her off and carrying her to bed when she inevitably passes out.

Vaggie:

Vaggie loves baths but she’s hard pressed to admit it. Nothing feels better on sore muscles than a nice soak, ideally with lavender. She loves lavender.

The two of you had been dating for about 6 months before she even entertained the idea of going to you with such a request. 

She was too embarrassed to ask.

-in the end, how she broaches the subject is by surprising you one night when you return home. A few candles lined the edge of the bathtub that was filled nearly to the brim with bubbles.

”I just thought it would be nice, you’ve been gone all day” And you know better to react calmly should you risk spooking the flustered angel with the scarlet red face.

She’s the one that drags it out in the end. She’d wrap her arms just a little tighter around your waist and mutter about how the water would stay warm for just a little longer.

Vaggie gives sweet towel hugs.

Alastor:

Listen, Alastor takes pride in his hygiene. He takes the utmost care to keep himself and his dress in immaculate condition. 

He’ll invest in facial creams, hair creams, body creams, oils, lotions, you name it and he’s used it. 

But baths? No. Absolutely not.

You’ve only attempted to convince Alastor to take a bath with you and neither occasion ended particularly well. The radio demon wouldn’t speak to you for a week after the first failed attempt and had all but removed himself from your life with the second so you couldn’t say you were in any hurry for a third.

However, the two of you have come to a happy compromise. Whenever you found yourself in the mood to draw a bath you would sometimes find Alastor pulling a chair up next to the tub with a book tucked under his arm. So would begin a lovely tradition between the both of you.

More than once you’ve found yourself dozing to the soft static of the Alastor’s voice, and in response the demon would lightly tap his cane against the edge of the tub to rouse you.

Don’t fall asleep though, three strikes and he’ll leave you in the tub. No he doesn’t.

Husk:

Not. A. Fan. Considering his entire being consists of fur and feathers, Husk can and will do everything within his power to avoid bathing if he can. Look, it’s just not his idea of a fun night to sit down with a hairdryer and attempt to wring himself out as best he can.

Inevitably he’d miss a spot and end up with stale wet cat smell and no one likes that, especially not our resident grump.

He won’t make a fuss if you want to bathe with him though. What he will do is laugh while patting your shoulder. “I’ll wait for ya in the room”

The more comfortable he gets, however, you’ll start to see that eventually Husk begins to find reasons just to ‘wander’ into the bathroom with you. He misses you, you know it, but it’s still sweet to see him making the excuse of looking for his lucky pair of boxers.

”The water’s always warm darlin”

You better get the blow dryer ready, the only way you can convince him is if you’ll deal with it. You don’t mind though, the purrs are worth it

Angel Dust:

You and Angel take turns picking which bath bombs and bubble baths that you’ll throw into whichever potion you’ll be brewing up tonight.

Bathtime with Angel was always a favorite for you, you couldn’t think of anything better than getting to curl up with your cuddle bug in your arms. Although things never really stay that way for long.

It’s hard not to tease while washing each other. A slip of the hand here, just a little rough touch of loofah there, just a sweet little taste of what could be but the restraint comes easy in the relaxed atmosphere. Just in times like these Angel will be patient enough to wait until you can actually make it to the bed. 

Angel won’t let you wash his hair. You don’t know why he’s so particular about it but if you interrupt his routine of products then his entire night is ruined so you choose the peaceful route and leave the man be. That doesn’t mean he won’t wash your hair for you if you ask though, those four hands of his do wonders at massaging the scalp.

Angel will 10/10 let you towel dry him every single time and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t use it as an opportunity to make a show at bending this way and that, making sure to get every inch of him.

He looks like a fluffy mess afterwards but hey, he’s your fluffy mess.

Requests open!!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #husk headcanons #husk x reader #angel dust headcanons #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader

[gemini-sensei]

Prime | Jaime Reyes x Chubby!Reader NSFW Headcanons

Fem!Reader ○ NSFW but cute n' funny (IMO)

💙 Khaji Da is keen on certain human interactions; others not so much. So sometimes there's restraint on its part, like not wanting to totally rip apart a threatening foe. However, sometimes it misses the mark, and being in tune with Jaime, it knows when he is totally in love with his girlfriend. So the comments it makes about a certain subject are still a little out of pocket, but at least it waited for the right time. Maybe.

💙 Just on a chill afternoon, when nothing is bothering literally anyone, Khaji "casually" brings up Reader's current state of being - that being in the middle of her cycle and "prime for mating."

💙 Jaime literally spits out his drink and anyone nearby gives him weird looks. Like, the Scarab on his back just says the most bizarre things in this completely serious way, and he can't act normal about it ever.

💙 He has to leave the room to have an argument with Khaji Da about what is appropriate and not appropriate points of conversation. Also scanning his girlfriend to check her fertility is out of line in his opinion and should not be done (I'll go ahead and tell you that Khaji does not listen to this tidbit.)

💙 "But Jaime, now is the time. The next natural step is to mate and produce offspring. Reader is not only in her prime state to mate, but she is a perfect partner to reproduce with-"

💙 "No! We're done talking about this! And don't say it like that! What even-"

💙 One time, when Reader is grinding down on Jaime's lap, hard-on trapped in his pants as they're just having fun, Khaji brings it up again: "She obviously wants you to mate with her, Jaime. Her body is ready to relieve your-"

💙 "Stop it!... not you, amor."

💙 Khaji Da literally never stops though. Uses the "It's in your best interest, Jaime" line a lot and Jaime gets annoyed with it every time.

💙 Don't get him wrong, Jaime wants a family of his own one day. He would just rather have that conversation with Reader and not the world-destroying alien weapon under his skin.

💙 Khaji Da knows Jaime wants a family and thinks he's in the perfect position in life to start one - meaning as long as he is alive and healthy then that's all the conditions that need to be met. Jaime disagrees.

💙 On the other hand, sex still happens even when Khaji is being persistent. Jaime just tries to ignore it. However, all of its suggestions and encouragement lead to a slight breeding kink.

💙 Jaime will have Reader in his arms, curves in his hands, chest to chest, making out, and Khaji feeds him ideas of what positions to be in and all of that fun stuff.

💙 Khaji says one thing about a mating press and Jaime has suddenly found his new favorite position.

💙 Now Jaime can go for multiple rounds, probably thanks to Khaji and all the energy it gives Jaime. Reader, on the other hand, cannot go as many rounds as him. So Khaji is constantly watching her vitals, her hydration levels, her energy levels, and more all throughout sex. When she's spent, it stops Jaime from giving her another orgasm, though a little overly cautious about it in the way it will physically make him recoil to get away from her.

💙 Khaji is always looking out for Jaime's best interest, so this includes looking out for Reader's wellbeing. (Also, Khaji likes Reader, so of course it's going to look out for her as well.) (If Khaji didn't like Reader, then there'd be some problems.)

💙 Aftercare king Jaime Reyes. He's so good at aftercare, but Khaji accidentally insults him when it tells him how much water Reader should have after they finish having sex. He mutters under his breath about how he knows how to take care of Reader and Khaji goes on a little spiel about her hydration levels and how they need to stay hydrated if they're going to be so "vigorously sexually active" and "conceive offspring."

💙 He tells it to shut up and brings Reader her water.

💙 Khaji brings up the "mating" idea every time Reader is "prime and fertile," and Jaime just has to deal with it. It becomes a one-note sort of thing after a while, like, it'll come up and Khaji will say something, and Jaime is just like "Uh huh." But once he and Reader start talking about it themselves, better believe that breeding kink is creeping back up and about to go full force.

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes x chubby reader #jaime reyes headcanons #jaime reyes #blue beetle headcanons #gemini sensei #blue beetle x reader #blue beetle x chubby reader #dc comics x reader #dc comics #chubby reader #plus size reader

[indulgentdaydream]

Drawing Touches

Jason Todd x gn!Reader

Fluff. || Word Count: 936

Summary: You wake up on a hot summer night, Jason sleeping beside you. It’s too hot to sleep right next to each other, so why not play a game?

there’s something about shirtless jason and a groggy sleepy voice to match. Also you can see a demonstration of my left handed!jason hc in this and I didn't realize until after.

Side note: i hate the winter and i just really want the warmth even if it’s overbearing so that’s why i made it summer in this fic

Warnings: scar mentions (specifically on back), broken wrist, use of pet names (darling, baby)

Jason hadn’t gone on patrol. This time, you didn’t have to try as hard to convince him to stay while he was injured.

“I might as well,” he had sighed, sitting on the couch. His cast-ridden left hand (where your name was signed in big bold letters) rested beside him on the arm, “I can’t do much with only one hand.”

Now, the two of you were laying in bed. It was a hot summer night and your apartment had no air conditioning. Again.

You had fallen asleep in a tank top and shorts, the blankets thrown off of you early into the night. You were spread out on your back, trying to fall back asleep after waking up to the sound of a car honking in the street below. You let out a breath. It wasn’t hot enough to make you sweat through your clothes, but it was enough to be a tad uncomfortable. You turned onto your side to face Jason.

You assumed he was asleep. He was also on his side, facing away from you, shirtless. The expanse of his scarred, bare back on full display for you in the dark room. He had basketball shorts on “for decency”, and had kept the blankets covering his legs.

You watched his shoulders rise and fall with his breaths, convincing you that he was asleep. It put a smile on your face, seeing the usually stress-ridden man so calm, curled up on your bed.

Scooting closer, you reached out a hand. Ever so slightly, you began to brush your fingers along his back. Your fingers dipped and rose with the scars there, pondering them.

Some you knew, some you didn’t. Some you remembered him getting. One made you recall how he laid beneath you, coaching you through stitching him up as he tried to hide the pain in his voice.

The vibration of his grumble made its way through his skin and into your finger tips. “Thought you were asleep,” he mumbled out, voice groggy.

Feeling the guilt, you place your hand flat along his back, whispering, “Did I wake you?”

“No,” he flipped onto his back slowly, giving you enough time to move your hand, “Been awake since that car honked. Was watchin’ the window.”

Maybe he hadn’t been as stress free as you had believed, “It woke me up, too. It’s too hot to fall back asleep.”

He rubs at his eye with his right hand. His left one drapes over his stomach, the cast blending into the shadows, “Felt good.”

You looked up at him, “The heat?”

He chuckled tiredly, turning his head to look at you, his cheek squished against the pillow, “Your fingers on my back.”

You smiled at him. The two of you were still a few inches apart from each other, an unspoken agreement that it was too hot to cuddle.

“Wanna play a game?” You whispered.

He hummed, “What game?”

“Turn back around.”

Jason let out a low grumble, very close to a whine, “Wanna see you.”

You laugh again, “Turn!”

He grumbled again, turning back onto his side, facing away from you.

Your fingers returned to his back, “Try and guess what I draw.”

He stayed still as you moved your finger. You drew a big circle, which was a little shaky wherever your finger collided with a bumpy scar. After completing it, you made quick, straight lines shooting out from the circle all around it.He didn’t speak again until you were finished, “Mmmmh… lion.”

You giggled, “No.”

He let out a fake groan, “Flower?”

You shook your head, the fabric of the sheets and your pillow rustling underneath you, “Mm-mm.”

Jason thought for a moment, “Do an easier one.”

You clicked your tongue, but did so anyway. You swiped the flat of your hand across his back, pretending to erase the drawing, before beginning the new one.

You could hear the smile in his voice, “A heart.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Mm-hmm.”

He turned back around, “My turn.”

Now you flipped over, facing away from him as he faced your back. He pushed your shirt up to get to your bare back, his finger beginning to glide along your skin. You laughed as he drew a square, “It has to be more complicated than that, Jay!”

“As complicated as your first one?” He joked back.

“It was a sun. It wasn’t that complicated.”

He pauses for a moment, “It was a sun?”

You laugh, “Yes. Now make a drawing.”

He poked your side a little first before continuing. You almost chided him for drawing another square, but he built off of it. A sharp arch above it, with smaller, indistinct details below the arch, in the middle of where he drew the square.

His hand rested on your waist as he waited for you to think and guess, “A house?”

He leaned in and kissed your shoulder, “You got it, darling.”

You giggled and tried to flip back over again, but got blocked by his chest.

“No more,” he hummed. He nestled his head into your shoulder, pulling you back into his chest, spooning you despite the warmth in the room. “Sleep time.”

You huffed, though unbothered by his cuddles, “You didn’t like my game?”

You feel his smile against your neck, “Loved it. I’m just tired, baby.”

His right hand rests against your sternum. You pick it up, kissing his knuckles, before intertwining your fingers together and placing his hand back down, “Goodnight, again, Jay.”

He smiled, “G’night again.”

…

“Jay it’s too hot to cuddle.”

“Yeah, no, I’m remembering that now.”

Side note: did any of you play this game as a kid? It never had a name, but my mom and i would do it all the time. It was just a question of “can i draw on your back?” Lemme know!

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x m!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fic #red hood x m!reader #red hood x gn!reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood fic #red hood #dc #dc fic #dc x reader

[eternally-racing]

not private, not secret | oscar piastri

wc: <1k (short n sweet 😌)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

genre: fluff

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: you and oscar have kept your relationship secret for this long, but oscar can't help but celebrate with you for his very first formula 1 win.

----

You were well accustomed to being a shadow in the McLaren garage. It’s the way you and Oscar had decided you liked it best.

There was no pressure from the media, no mean comments on social media, and the less prying eyes into your relationship, the better. Only a select few people on the team knew that you were Oscar’s girlfriend, the rest easily bought up the lie that you were the daughter of a very rich investor in the team who wanted to be at every race. It usually wasn’t that hard to keep quiet, but today was a big day and you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest at every turn. For the first time in his Formula 1 career your boyfriend was leading the race, and with only a few more laps to go you were praying that today would be the day that his dream came true. As you looked to the pit wall you could see Andrea’s foot nervously twitching against the foot rest of his chair, he felt it too. This would easily be the biggest moment of Oscar’s career if it comes true, and there are only a few more laps to go. 

It’s a moment you never want to forget as the checkered flag comes out for Oscar’s car. You can’t stop the tears leaking out from your eyes as you hear the jubilation on his voice through the radio. This is a moment that both of you imagined for so long, but the reality of the situation surpassed all of your expectations. It’s a full celebration with the team as everyone is thoroughly overjoyed. You’re swept up with thinking about Oscar that you don’t even notice the other papaya car cross the line after Oscar. It’s a 1-2 finish, there’s not much more a team could ever wish for in a race. McLaren hasn’t felt joy like this in years. There’s a full sea of papaya out in front of the podium to greet the race winner, and you’re not sure where you fit into things - you blend in easily with the crowd while simultaneously being swept up in it. You’ve made a couple of friends in the garage and stick closely to them as the party already seems to be beginning on the paddock. 

You’ve never seen Oscar like this before - he takes a minute in the car before getting out (you can only assume he was wiping his tears of joy, even if he is too stubborn to admit it). You have your phone out taking a couple of pictures yourself - you know that there’s 1000s of cameras around that are also pointed at your boyfriend, but you want to remember what it feels like to see this moment through your eyes. 

After hugging his engineer and the rest of the team members, you can see Oscar’s gaze start to wander around the paddock, and it’s only once he changes directions do you figure out that he’s looking for you. There’s cameras flashing and the live TV feed clearly following over his shoulder, but your eyes are only locked on each other as Oscar reaches out for you. He stays in your arms for long enough that people can probably get the hint that you’re someone special.

“I really couldn’t have done this without you love, thank you” Oscar says with tears pooling in his eyes. This is his “I made it moment”, and he wants nothing more than to share it with you. There’s so many words that you want to say, but you find yourself speechless as you stare into Oscar’s eyes. Instead, you go with the action that you’ve dreamt of doing ever since you started dating. It’s your first helmet kiss of what will be many more to follow. Oscar warned you that it wouldn’t taste very good, especially given the dusty race conditions of the day, but it brings such joy to your heart to be able to celebrate with him.

When Oscar’s up on the podium he points to you as he lifts the trophy up to the cheers of the crowd, mouthing an “I love you” to you down below that you know will make the rounds on social media. But you don’t care one bit about that anymore. People could throw all the hate in the world your way, but there was nothing like the pride of celebrating your boyfriend’s first f1 win.

-----

author's note: was in a bit of a writing slump working on pt.2s for a lot of my other fics so i just wanted to write something short and sweet! hope u all enjoyed it :) My ask box is still open as always if you have any requests. Until next time! - Em <3

#oscar piastri #formula 1 fic #oscar paistri imagine #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri fluff #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x yn #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #oscar piastri fic #mclaren f1

[pandoraslxna]

ok but w step bro! neteyam w/ “just the tip” 👀

Infected

Stepbro Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: While on a hunt with your stepbrother Neteyam, he comes in contact with something that makes him act… strange.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (means they’re not siblings related by blood, reader is adopted!), aged up characters, sex pollen, mild dub-con, dry humping, p in v, quickie, semi-public, creampie

Notes: gif made by the amazing @eclipseatsea <3 Anyways, I wrote this in one sitting wtf??🧍🏻‍♀️

Na‘vi translations:

Thanì - little star

Neteyam is hot. No, not that kind of hot— I mean yes, that kind too, but right now he feels hot. Feverish even.

His skin is glistening in a thin layer of sweat, breathing slightly uneven and rapid and eyes almost fully blown. The yellow of his iris has decreased into a thin ring around his pitch black pupils.

You hastily blurt the information of your stepbrothers condition into your throat comm, pacing back and forth in worry. Occasionally, you glance back at Neteyam, who was barely able to hold himself up on his feet, his back now resting against a tree trunk. Every time you looked at him over your shoulder, he seemed to slide further down the trunk, until he was finally sitting down on the ground. His eyes were still glued on you the whole time, following your every movement. You saw the way his nose scrunched and his ears laid flat against his head, his tail trashing against the ground behind his back and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that he was still hunting.

"Sweetheart, listen", Jakes voice finally snapped you out of your thoughts, "That sounds like he’s been infected with something. Did you two touch or eat anything strange? Got stung by something?"

"No? I- I don’t know, dad, I really don’t", you sigh, "How much longer until you’re here?"

"Twenty… maybe thirty minutes." Not before the eclipse starts, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as the anxiety grows worse. "Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep until I’m there and try to get him some water."

"Yes, yes okay, alright." You nod, even though he couldn’t see it. "Please hurry."

"Breathe, don’t panic, babygirl. It’s going to be alright, I’m sure it’s nothing bad", your stepfather reassures you and the soothing tone in voice actually helps you calm down a bit. "Check him for any stings, wounds or other injuries, okay? And if you find anything, report it back to me."

"Yes, sir."

You tried to focus on that order, because if you were to think even for one second about anything else, you would’ve lost your composure once and for all. Immediately after the line went dead, you turn back to Neteyam. He’s still sitting there, silent, unmoving, just looking at you.

"Dad will be here soon", you mumble, more to comfort yourself than him, as you step closer. "He said I need to check you for injuries."

There’s the slightest movement, barely even a nod from Neteyam as you kneel down in front of him, giving you permission to touch him. With shaky fingers and your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough to break your ribs, you reach out for his hands. You feel his palms first, then his wrist, but nothing. Your hands move further up, checking his arms, shoulders, his chest. Your mouths feels dry, but again, you can’t find anything. Not even a splinter or the tiniest scratch. He seems completely fine. You would’ve thought that there was nothing wrong with him, if it wasn’t so obvious that there was clearly something very wrong with him.

It’s when you’re about to check his back, shuffling closer and leaning forward for a better view, that he suddenly pulls you by your wrists and makes you straddle his lap. The air around you both felt electrifying now, every one of your senses coming alive all at once. You gasped his name in surprise, your face turning bright red from the intimate position you found yourself in, with both of his arms encircled tightly around your middle.

It’s been a while since someone was last this close to you and you couldn’t help but notice every single inch of bare skin that was now touching yours. Your thighs on his, his arms around your middle, your hands on his chest—

But then Neteyam hisses through clenched teeth and buries his face in the crock of your neck and it immediately snaps you back to the fact that your stepbrother was sick. He was sick or injured or eywa knows what he was going through, but it seemingly caused him this much pain and distress, that he was seeking comfort in you.

Cause that’s what it was, right? That’s why he pulled you into his lap. Right?

"A-Are you in pain?"

What a stupid question, you thought, face scrunching up in embarrassment. Of course he was, you knew that already. But what else were you supposed to say to him? You just had to say something, because sitting in a position like this with someone you considered family and not saying anything would’ve made this even more awkward than it already was.

"Hmh", Neteyam only hums. His breath is warm against the skin of your throat, a constant reminder of how close he was to you like this.

"Where?"

Why did that even matter? Maybe you thought, hoped, that he could show you where, that he would point to somewhere and help you understand what was wrong with him.

Well, lucky for you, that’s exactly what he did. With his arms still wrapped around your middle, Neteyam pushed you down harder against his lap, his own hips rising just enough to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt. "Right there", he groans lowly and in that moment, it felt like all the blood in your veins rushed straight to your head, making you feel dizzy with heat.

You don’t even know why, but instinctively, you try to push yourself off and away from him. Okay scratch that— you knew exactly why. It’s not that it didn’t feel good, it was the fact that it didn’t feel right. Neteyam was your stepbrother, someone you weren’t even supposed to touch like this! Whatever it was, that made him act the way he did, he surely wasn’t himself right now. He would’ve never… or would he?

You shake your head as if to shake the thoughts out of it, hands finding purchase on his shoulders and you attempt to lift yourself off of him again, but his arms hold you secured against him. "Stay. Please", Neteyam murmurs against your collarbone, "You make me feel better."

"I, uhm… I don’t think that’s a good ide—"

You’re interrupted by the sound of your own surprised squeak, when he suddenly lifts you up and quickly, probably a little too quick, lays you down against the ground with a thud. Your back was pressed against the soft grass now and his full body weight laid on top of you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in completely.

Your heart races, hammers against your ribs like a Fkio in a small cage. A new wave of heat spreads all over your body when Neteyam presses his nose against the skin of throat, inhaling as deep as his lungs could expand.

Your arousal and natural scent were so potent on his nose, it was making his mind hazy and his cock strained against his loincloth so tightly, he thought it would tear the fabric at any second. You were trying so hard to hide your own arousal, but he could smell you— could see your flushed face, hear your panting and feel how you tried to squeeze your thighs together, if it weren’t for his hips to be settled in between them.

Neteyam inhales again and his eyes flutter close. He does so, while he continues to grind his cock against your core. The outline of his length getting dragged over your folds and his tip bumping against your clothed clit makes you whimper softly, your noises only egging him on more.

"W-What are you doing?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You sound so small and uncertain– uncertain if you could allow yourself to feel good, to enjoy this, despite the guilt of doing something so forbidden with him.

"I’m sorry. Feels better when i do that", Neteyam responds, burying his apologies into your skin, "Makes it hurt less." He doesn’t sound uncertain, or guilty for that matter. He sounds desperate, breathless. Like he’s holding himself back.

You could feel Neteyams tail wrap itself around your calf and his breath ghost over the shell of your ear, but then you shake your head and swallow thickly, like it pains you to say this, "You should… probably get off of me."

Not even a second passes, before you feel him grind himself between your thighs again, hard cock gliding over your most private parts, the fabric of your loincloths only adding further to the rough friction and you could feel the wetness pool right there, soaking the fabric.

"Sorry I just… I can’t think. Can’t stop." Neteyam whispers, sending a shiver throughout your entire body.

It was the truth. He had tried to downplay the effects so as not to worry you even more, but ever since he had accidentally inhaled that weird pink dust of this strange looking flower, the one he wanted to pick for you when you had your back turned to him, it had been hard to breath. His lungs, loins, skin, everything felt on fire.

The first touch of your hands on him, skin to skin, had felt like a mouthful of fresh water, cooling down his insides. The first relief he‘s had in hours.

But it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed you.

"It’s okay, i know you’re in pain but—"

You nearly moan, just barely managing to catch it before the sound leaves your throat, when he bumps against your clit again. The sounds he coaxed out of you made his blood boil inside his veins.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to feel good, that you were in the middle of the forest, that he was your stepbrother, that his father, your stepfather was on his way to your position, but eywa— eywa, does it feel good when he moves like this…

Neteyam growls into the crook of your neck, bucking his hips just a little harder against you, and it sounds strained, reflecting the state of his body perfectly. "Please, thanì, c‘mon. Fuck. Just the tip, please."

"Teyam, we… we shouldn’t. Dad– Dad will be here a-any minute now." It’s a weak attempt to try and reason him. You’re not even convinced to stop this yourself, if you were being completely honest with yourself. Biting your lip, you had to conceal another whimper from escaping, as he continues to hump you like he was experiencing his rut. At this point, you weren’t sure how much more you could take of this, without giving in to your desires— to his desires.

Neteyam should feel sick about this. He should feel sick about it, but all he could feel was the heat in his guts, the painful throbbing of his cock and the soft of your skin pressed tight against his body.

A warm breath tickles your throat once again, feeling Neteyam inhale and exhale deeply, nosing your skin as if he tried to imprint your scent on his nostrils.

"I‘ll be quick, I promise", he groans, "Eywa, you smell good, r-really good."

As his mouth wanders to your jawline, kissing and sucking, his forehead comes to rest against your cheek and you gasp. He’s burning, his skin feels like it’s been set aflame. This is worse than any fever, worse than any rut.

"O-Okay", you finally agree, all resolve shattering to pieces.

Neteyam moves quicker than you were expecting. One of his hands wedges itself between your bodies, hastily pulling your loincloth to the side, just enough to gain access where he needed to. There’s no time, it seems, no time to take it slow as he fumbles with his own loincloth, flicking the fabric up and out of the way, pulling his leaking cock out from under his coverings and lining himself up with your entrance. He really couldn't think anymore, not of any consequences, not with all the blood pounding through his angry cock, desperation clinging to his body, making his mind hazy and eyes half lidded.

When he pushes your legs up with his free hand, folding you nearly in half, you’re spread wide open for him to push inside, inch after inch. The stretch as he buries himself to the hilt drives every single thought, every worry, every ounce of guilt right out of your head. Neteyam moans, he moans loud and wanton and it’s a sound of relief followed by a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

You never imagined that there was so much space inside of you, but your stepbrother happily claimed all of it, every last bit.

Eywa help him if he doesn’t savor this, because he didn’t know the next time he’ll be able to do this again, if he was even ever allowed to. You’re warm and wet and soft and tight, so tight. Great mother, it felt like his mind was going into overdrive as he began to thrust into you.

His face was still buried into the space between your throat and shoulder and he didn’t plan on moving anytime soon. He’d stay like this forever if he could. Neteyam wants every single breath he takes to be filled with your scent from now on. Whatever it was, that made him act like this, it made him so painfully aware of how sweet his baby sister smelled. How good she tasted, when he ran his tongue over her pulse point and how incredible she felt, wrapped around his cock like a little sleeve made just for him.

"T-Teyam, f-fuck!", it’s a high-pitched whine, followed by a little punched out noise that doesn’t sound like anything that’s ever come out of your mouth before. His movements are jerky and rough, all for the purpose of chasing his own pleasure. The obscene squelching sound from him pounding into your pussy, mixed with streams of moans filled the air around you within seconds.

"Sorry, sorry, I’m— fuck, I’m sorry. You just feel so good, can’t slow down", Neteyam groans into your ear, his words being the complete opposite of his actions. The movement of his thrust are deep and fast, knocking the air from your lungs and causing your eyes to roll all the way back into your head. With the way he was hammering his cock into you, you could feel the mushroomy head of it kissing your cervix over and over again, pummeling against your g-spot on the way.

It’s okay, you want to say. You would, if you were still capable of forming any words on your tongue that weren’t just mewls and curses and brabbled nonsense.

Neteyam was surely aiming to fuck the very soul out of you like this. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin and holding on for dear life as you felt your cunt turning into a gooey mess, thanks to the mixture of his pre-cum and your own slickness leaking out of you already.

"So good, feels so good, thanì", you hear him moan next to your ear, fangs grazing your skin as he licks and nibbles on your shoulder. "O-Oh fuck, you feel amazing. So wet and t-tight."

Between the thrill of being caught and Neteyams brutal pace, it didn’t take long for you to hit your peak. His cock expertly finds all the places you couldn’t reach yourself, all the spots that make pleasure curl your toes and starbursts explode behind your eyelids. Neteyam licks the sweat from your collarbones like it’s something to be savored, moaning at the feeling of you squeezing his cock like you were trying to milk him for all it’s worth.

"Teyam, Teyam I’m close, you’re gonna make me come!"

Right on cue, Neteyam hiked your leg up higher around his waist. The new angle allowed him even deeper access and you throw your head back at the new sensation. The second you felt his cock throb inside of you, your orgasm crashed down upon you like a sheet of ice– your legs squeezing around his waist, arms tightening around his neck so much that he had trouble breathing. But that didn’t stop him from fucking you like it was the only thing you were made for.

"Gonna.. haa fuck, I’m gonna cum inside you."

Neteyam feels his orgasm building like he’s been waiting for it for years, like someone had edged him, like he hasn’t had a release in forever and then it hits him like it never has before.

"Take it, shit, just take it, take my cum!"

He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, because if he didn’t, he would’ve latched onto your shoulder like a palulukan into its prey. His hips stutter, abs tensing and then he slams into you as deep as he could go, groaning your name as rope after rope of his cum fills you.

And then, the heat inside of him was gone.

As the last droplet of his seed was successfully pumped into you, Neteyam finally felt his head clear up and he came back to himself. The both of you stayed like that for just a moment, with him panting into your neck, both of you trying not to think about what you had just done.

When Neteyam finally pulls out of you, it’s gingerly, tenderly even, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. As terribly sore and used as you felt, somehow there was a secret shard of happiness under it all. You wondered, if his coy smirk was any indication that he felt the same.

By the time Jake finally arrived, the only evidence of your sins was his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the fabric of your loincloth.

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