#but...I thought this would be a good place for me to begin to post more sketches | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pencil-n-pen · 5 months ago

Text

ALL I DO IS TRY, TRY, TRY

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

post prison! spencer x genius fem! reader

masterlist | ko-fi | next

summary: all your life, you’ve been second-best. Even now that you’ve been chosen to be an agent of the BAU, you’re just a replacement for Spencer Reid. What could change now that’s he’s out?

cw: there is a bit of an age gap, i imagined reader in her early to mid 20’s, nevermind how it isn’t accurate for working at FBI. this is a criminal minds fic, so there are graphic depictions of violence, as well as implied/referenced child neglect/abuse in readers childhood, reader is somewhat a genius

tropes/tags: slowburn on readers end, Spencer is flirting from the beginning, HURT/COMFORT, angst, bit of a sick fic in one scene, bit of soft dom! spencer as a treat

a/n : this came to me in a prophecy. full disclosure i haven’t actually seen the prison arc yet so if there’s any inaccuracies shhhhhh look at the fluff

also !! this is a LOOOOONG one. strap yourselves in. grab snacks and drinks

slipped in some very slight father figure Hotch bc that’s my crack

title taken from Mirrorball by Taylor Swift

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Spencer Reid is absolutely nothing like you’d thought he’d be.

From how the team talked about him, you’d been expecting a short, slight man. Someone quiet and meek and non-threatening.

And Dr. (Agent?) Reid was quiet. But not in the don’t-notice-me way, but in the I-know-what-I’m-doing-and-don’t-need-to-say-it way. He quietly commanded attention and respect. One look at the man told you he was not somebody to fuck with.

He was also really, really, really hot.

It was unfortunate and difficult, truly, because he’s your senior agent, someone who’s got more than a few years on you in both field experience and general age. He’s a genius- insanely good at what he does and there’s no refuting that.

But most of all, he’s kind and respectful and just genuinely a good person. And also good looking. Did you mention that yet?

He clicks seamlessly into place with the team in a way you’ve never managed to do in the time you’ve been with him. And after all, why would you? You’re just the rookie transfer with a bit higher than average IQ. Nothing to brag about. Nothing like Spencer.

You were a data analyst with the FBI before your boss told you: “The BAU is looking for a temporary genius. I put your name in the ring. Hotchner must’ve been impressed with something, cause he picked you. I know you’ve completed the training courses for their team, so pack your desk. You’ve got a new assignment.”

And just like that, every single one of your dreams came true. And then promptly burst into flames and burned to ashes when you realized what exactly your position on the team was: Temporary and replacing.

It makes sense, you guess. The team grew to rely on Reid’s quick wit and intellect. And beyond that, they’re an agent short. And you fit the bill well enough: swift and intelligent. Nothing more, nothing less. It became clear during the first few weeks that no one on the team had any intention of liking or particularly getting to know you beyond a professional capacity. And you get it, you really do. You don’t name the dog you’re gonna get rid of.

With the exception of Penelope. But you don’t think she has the ability to ignore someone without a clear reason.

So you did your job and you were good at it. Held the team at arm’s length even when they warmed up to you. Kept your head down, stuck to yourself. This way, it’s easier to stop yourself from leaning into JJ and Prentiss’s jokes, or to stamp down the glow in your chest from Hotch’s approval.

All of this hard work goes sailing straight out the window and spattering on the concrete below when Reid comes back. Because all it took was one case together- one. And then you’re hopelessly in love with the guy you replaced.

And it’s all kinds of terrible, because it’s Reid. He’s not only your coworker —soon to be ex, because now that he’s back you’ll be out of a job— but he’s also so incredibly out of your league it’s not even funny. But he keeps smiling at you and including you in conversations and saying hi to you and asking your opinion on things during cases as if you would have more to add than he does.

It’s very hard to keep him at arms length. And because Reid is Reid he drags everybody else over with him and then you’re bonding with a team you have a week left with, maybe two.

Spencer Reid has weaseled his way into your life one stupid smile at a time.

—

The case is going terribly.

What started as a run-of-the-mill serial killer case in some nowhere town turned into huge investigation because Spe— Reid figured out its relation to a cold case from a neighboring town decades prior. And then, to top everything off, just so happens to be near enough to your hometown that your mom saw you on the news when JJ was giving a statement.

And now she won’t stop calling.

Prior to this, you haven’t talked to your mom in about seven months. Now? She’s calling upwards of twelve times a day.

“Mom,” You say, tucked in one of the police stations back rooms, pinching the bridge of your nose, “I’m working, I can’t just come out to see you—“

“But you’ve never visited! And your finally in town, and—“

“I’m not in town, I’m a four hour drive away from town.”

A sigh crackles through the line, her voice tinny. “You know, your brother always made time to visit family, and your younger brothers—“

“Are younger than me and more successful, yes mom, I’ve heard it all before. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m trying to catch a serial killer.”

You snap the phone shut before she can protest, effectively ending the call. You sag against the wall, sighing deep and weary. Exhaustion clings to your bones. It’s not just your mom. This case, being physically close to your hometown, everything— it’s weighing you down. You spend more time in the hotel bed tossing and turning than sleeping.

Even Em— Prentiss had shot you look when you’d came in this morning- though jury’s still out about whether or not it was an are-you-okay look or a you-better-be-good-for-the-case look. You’re hoping it’s the former.

The room you’re in is empty- the precinct that called for the team went under renovation and remodeling last year, so some of the rooms have fallen into disuse, apparently. It’s dusty, and filled with boxes and papers and weirdly, one or two condom wrappers. You wish you were surprised.

Your phone has been put strongly on silent, and you’re not expecting anyone to find you for at least twenty minutes. Of course, you don’t need twenty minutes. You just need five.

You just need to collect yourself for a moment. A few minutes to breathe, to get your mom’s words and the unpleasant memories they bring out of your head; to will the shake out of your hands and the cold creeping in your lungs.

So when the door opens, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Spencer walks in, phone clasped in one hand and a worried expression on his face.

“We’re getting ready to give the profile.”

“Oh,” You peel yourself off the wall, discreetly wiping at your face. You hadn’t noticed the frustrated tears carving lines down your face, “Sorry, I’m coming.”

He frowns as you come closer, and panic begins to beat like a drum in your chest.

“Is Hotch upset? I just had to take a call, I thought it would—“

“Slow down,” He says, raising his hands. “Hotch isn’t upset. Is something wrong?”

“No,” You say quickly, too quickly, because his frown deepens.

“You’ve been taking a lot more calls recently and you’re always upset after they’re over. Is someone bothering you?”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “My mom. We’re a four hour drive away from my hometown. She saw me on the news when JJ gave her statement.”

Something flashes in his eyes when you say your mother, but it’s gone before you can decipher it.

“You don’t want to see her.”

He says it flat-toned and blank. Like it’s a fact.

It is a fact.

“No,” You confess, “I’ve never been close with my parents. I haven’t spoken to her beyond a text in years, and I haven’t texted her in months. Then she sees me on the news and I’m back on her radar again.”

You chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, the folly of the disappointing daughter.”

He tilts his head, questioning. “You’ve made something of yourself. You’re a special agent. That’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, well. It’s not Doctor or Lawyer or C.E.O or anything else my brothers or cousins have made of themselves, so,” You shrug. “Disappointing.”

“Well that’s stupid,” Spencer says, a small curl to his lips, “You keep all of those stupid people safe by catching serial killers.”

“You’re a doctor. Did you just call yourself stupid?”

He shrugs, mimicking your earlier action. “I’m not that kind of doctor.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face but he ducks down, catching it anyway.

“Hey,” He says, eyes catching yours, “If you want to talk, you know where to find me.”

You (hesitantly) look up to meet his gaze. “Thanks, Reid.”

His face does something weird. Contorts at the words, just for a second. Like he just bit into something sour.

And then it’s gone.

“Of course.”

—

For the rest of the case, everytime your phone rings, Spencer looks at you. You’re getting close to just throwing the damn thing off a roof, if it’ll convince him to stop looking at you like that. You don’t know what to do with it. The look he gives you tastes like worry, and you don’t know what to do about Spencer Reid worrying about you.

You never meet his gaze. You know he’s looking, but you never look back.

Finally, the case comes to an end. Actually, it goes out in a literal blaze of glory— the unsub lights his kill shed on fire.

All of it would have burned to ash if you hadn’t run into the structure and and snatched the murder weapon and the most damning pieces of evidence: the printed photographs the unsub took with the victims.

It’s a win because you saved the evidence.

It’s a loss because Hotch looks pissed while the paramedics check you over.

Well. You assume he looks pissed. You’re staring resolutely at your shoes.

Finally, the paramedic gives you the all clear —just some minor burns here and there, you got lucky— and you no longer have a human buffer and excuse to avoid talking.

The silence stretches out between you two. Eventually, you cave.

“Hotch, I’m sorry—“

He holds a hand up and you clamp your jaw shut.

“Did you not hear me give the order to stay back?”

“I just thought—“

“We are a team, agent. I need to be able to trust not only that you’re going to follow my orders but be able to work together with the team. Now, you’re not doing either of those things.”

You frown. “I do follow your orders.”

He sighs. “You didn’t today. And more importantly, you’re not acting like a member of this team. You don’t call for backup. You don’t ask for help. You do good profiling work, agent. But if you can’t work with this team then we might need to reconsider your position here.”

That… doesn’t make any sense.

Hotch catches the confusion on your face. “Something wrong, agent?”

“I just— I was under the impression that I would only be working with the team for a few more weeks…?”

Now it’s his turn to look confused. “You may have been hired at an inopportune time, and until the first year is over it is a probationary basis, but pending review, you are and always have been a permanent member of this unit.”

You blink. “Oh.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You didn’t think you’d be staying for long.”

You shake your head, your world turned on its head.

He hums. “You should buy earplugs. Rossi snores.”

You drop your head into your hands.

“And agent?”

You look up.

“You did good work today. You have a team. Learn to use them.”

He walks away, leaving you to process this crisis-inducing information.

So. You’re not leaving the team. You’re a profiler. Forever. This is your job now.

So does that mean you weren’t replacing Spencer? So why were you hired? Anything you can do multiple people on the team can do better. Why would Hotch pick you?

You stare at the pavement, which gives you a perfect view to watch Spencer’s shoes walk into view and hear him settle next to you.

“You’re a little young to be having a mid-life crisis.”

It takes you an embarrassingly long time to respond, partly because you’re not sure what to say, but also, the length of his thigh is pressed against yours and it’s hard to think when he’s emanating warmth and you can’t stop yourself from thinking about how it would feel to touch, skin to skin.

“Well,” You croak, “I did just get some pretty big news.”

He leans back on his hands, raising an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Looking up at him was a mistake. Bathed in the glow of the ambulance and the light from the moon, you can see just how long his eyelashes are, and how his lips move when he says your name.

Oh shit.

“Sorry, what?”

His face twitches in a smile. “I asked if you were okay. You were staring.”

You flush from your neck to the tips of your ears. “Sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m fine. I was just thinking.”

“About?”

See, he always does this. Most people would end the conversation there and move on. And that’s fine. It’s normal. But Spencer asks. Like he’s interested.

You shrug. “I thought… I thought I was leaving the team in a few weeks. Turns out i’m staying.”

He starts swinging his legs on the edge of the ambulance, though where his almost brush the ground, yours swing several inches above it. “Why did you think you were leaving?”

You laugh softly. “My boss told me the position was temporary. And in my excitement of getting it I may or may not have… not read the paperwork?”

He clicks his tongue. “Oh, honey.”

The tips of your ears burn. “I was excited!”

“To get a job staring at gruesome crime photos?”

“To help people.”

“What? Data analysis not helping people enough?”

“Do I even have to answer that?”

He snorts, his body shaking against yours. “You’re a consulting analyst. That’s the big leagues.”

Now it’s your turn to huff. “Is there a big leagues for data analysis?”

He leans his head down to look at you. “Well, maybe miss smarty-pants over here made a league of her own.”

The shade of red you turn must be visible, dark and bad lighting aside. “You have an IQ of 187. Can you really call me a smarty-pants?”

He tilts his head, giving you an assessing look. You recognize it. He gives case files the same look.

A faint shudder runs down the length of your spine at that precise, clinical gaze.

It should concern you, unnerve you.

It doesn’t.

“No, I’m positive. You’re a smarty-pants.”

You look away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze.

“Hey, no. Come on, you gotta own up to being a smarty-pants. Otherwise you ruin the effect.”

“Am I supposed to start wearing sweaters and Converse, then?”

“Well, that wouldn’t be owning the smarty-pants look.”

“Do we have to keep the smarty-pants thing going?”

“Took your mind off the burns, didn’t it?”

You blink, realizing that you haven’t noticed the dull sting of the minor burns littering your body for a few minutes now.

But that has less to do with Spencer speaking and more to do with the fact that he’s here. Touching you. If you focus really hard, you can feel the chords of muscle lining his arm.

“Uh,” You stutter, momentarily flabbergasted by the way he’s looking at you. Like it’s important to him— you not being in pain. “Yeah, yeah, I guess. Well. I feel them now.”

“Oh, shame. I guess we’ll just have to keep talking.”

You furrow your brows. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? Shouldn’t you be helping finish wrapping up the case?”

He shrugs. “I’m right where I want to be.”

That’s a decidedly very loaded statement that are not going to unpack.

You’re not going to unpack to jolt of pure electricity you feel from it, either.

—

You may or may not have lied about just how sick you were, exactly.

“You know,” Rossi says after you hack a cough into your elbow for what has to be the fiftieth time in as many minutes, “That’s starting to sound less like the plague and more like desperation.”

You sniff harshly, taking a swig of cough syrup and praying this isn’t the king with codeine in it. You didn’t read the label very well. “What do you mean?”

Prentiss raises an eyebrow. “He’s saying that most people on their veritable death/bed opt to sleep comfortably in their own beds in their own homes rather than on a plane to hunt down a violent killer.”

You think if your apartment— it’s cozy, at least, but still a glaring reminder of the reason you told Hotch you were fine to come in- loneliness.

You have heated blankets and warm lighting and books and tea —boxes and boxes of tea— and all manner of things that make you happy. But no amount of things can replace, tangible human connection.

You knew the ache of spending the day in your apartment would sting worse than the cold. Fever, Whatever you have.

“I’m thinking of a word,” JJ says, mock tapping her chin thoughtfully, “Starts with work, ends with holic.”

“I am not a workaholic,” you wheeze. “I am fine.”

“Yes,” Prentiss says, raising her other eyebrow. Oh no. Not the double eyebrow raise. “Because this is exactly what the picture of health looks like.”

To avoid answering, you take another swig of cough medicine.

“Just do you know,” Spencer says, “You’re about one tiny sip of that away from overdosing. I’d cool it on the cough syrup.”

“But I’m still coughing.”

“Have you given it any time to work?”

“It’s been thirty-ish minutes since I took the first dose.”

He levels you with a look at your usage of dose. “Why don’t you wait a little longer before committing suicide via shallow breathing and seizures.”

You wave a hand. “It’s fine. I know how to take care of myself when I’m sick.”

“Is your version of taking care of yourself just continuously taking medicine until the symptoms become bearable?”

“You’re un-bearable.” You snort at your play on words, but grow quiet because when you look up, the entire team is looking at you. “What?”

“You never joke.” JJ says.

“And I think I’ve heard you laugh exactly two times, and I’m pretty sure one of them was a sneeze.” Rossi says, a look of vague disbelief on his face.

You squirm in place. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Uh, yeah it is. You’re definitely too sick to be on a case if you’re laughing.”

“Come on, it was barely a chuckle—“

Spencer looks around. “Yeah, what’s the big deal? I’ve heard her laugh before.”

JJ and Prentiss snap their heads to him in tandem. “What?”

Now he looks vaguely uncomfortable. “I just don’t get why it’s such a big deal.”

“That’s cause you showed up late to the party,” Em- Prentiss says, “You didn’t meet her when she first came. She was all genius consulting data analyst.”

“I wouldn’t call myself a genius—“

“Yeah,” JJ chimes in, “I only ever saw her smile to be polite.”

“Wait,” Prentiss says, brows pinched, “You heard her laugh and you didn’t tell us? You knew we were trying to see who would make her break first.”

“You guys were trying to make me laugh? Is that what was happening all that time? I almost called Hotch like, thirty times because I was concerned for you guy’s mental wellbeing. I thought you’d had a nervous breakdown.”

JJ snorts. “Nope. Just tried to see if the rumors were true about all data analysts being robots.”

You cough into your elbow. “You guys make it seem like I was some sort of frigid bitch.”

“Frigid, yes. Bitch, no.”

“Hey!” You retort, then wince as the volume of your own voice makes your head pound harder and makes your throat sting worse, “I wasn’t that bad. Also, I was nervous! I’m the youngest person here by like, a long shot. I wanted to be professional.”

“I for one enjoyed it,” Rossi cuts in, “It was all blunt business. Straight to the point. No beating around the bush or gossiping. A few people here could learn a thing or two.”

“See?” You gesture. “Rossi agrees with me.”

Just about everyone on the plane gives you the exact same look. Hotch especially, who’s stayed silent during the entire exchange, looks troubled.

Once you land (an ordeal that normally doesn’t bother you, but today, had you worshipping the porcelain altar) Hotch pulls you aside.

“Agent,” He says before you climb into the car that’ll take you to the police precinct, “I can’t have an agent not at peak performance on this case.”

You frown. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re too sick to work this case—“

“No, no, I can work, I can do it—“

“—In the field. You’re working from the station until we wrap up. Understood?”

You sigh, knowing when you’re beat. “Understood.”

He gazes at you for a second. “You might want to call out of work entirely the next time you’re sick, you know. The less time you spend resting the longer it’ll take to get better. I expect to see you taking care of yourself at the precinct.”

You blink. “Are you… dad-ing me?”

He almost smiles. “Well, I am a father. It’s bound to come out sometimes.”

The joke soothes your concerns of him being upset with you (again.) You suppose it would’ve been warranted —Hotch never gets upset without a reason— but still. He’s the only one you occasionally struggle to read.

The good news is by the time you make it to the station, your medicine has kicked in.

The bad news is when you get to the station your medicine has kicked in.

“Spencer,” You say, spinning in a spinny chair and staring at his blurry face. “Did you know that elephants have prehensile—“

“Do not finish that sentence.” He says, glancing back at the team, all in various stages of concern, disgust, amusement, and annoyance. “Did you take non-drowsy cough medicine?”

“Yes! I didn’t want to be tired.”

He scrubs a tired hand down his face, then nudges a sealed water bottle across the table to you. “Drink that.”

You wrinkle your nose. “But my throat hurts.”

“Drink it anyway.”

You snatch the water bottle, grumbling the whole time as you crack the seal and gulp down the water, not realizing how thirsty you were until this very second.

You lean your forehead on the table head still pounding from the pressure in your sinuses. You feel a prickle in the back of your neck, signifying that the team is still staring at you.

With great effort, you lift your head, tilting your chin up and trying to summon all the self confidence you don’t actually have.

“I am making a fool of myself. Please disregard my actions until I am no longer ill. This won’t happen again.”

Words are hard. Speaking is hard. With a groan, you drop your head back on your arm.

“Ah, there she is.”

“Knew that laugh had to be a fluke.”

“Cold medicine must be working.”

There are other mutterings about stubborn geniuses and workaholics and data analysis and Spencer staying at the station and—

You snap your head up. “I’m fine. I don’t need a baby-sitter. Spencer would be most useful in the field. He’s one of the best shot’s on the team.”

“And when it comes to needing a marksman I won’t hesitate to get him,” Hotch says, “But for now, I need my two geniuses to put their heads together to solve this case.”

Feeling cowed, you avoid Spencer’s gaze as the team files out of the room you’ve all set up in, instead grabbing a file from the center of the table. You really are being stupid. You should’ve stayed home, now you’re a liability, not to mention a walking biohazard. Fuck, why couldn’t you just think before you—

“I can hear you spiraling from over here.”

You lift your gaze, eyeing Spencer who hasn’t even put down the case file he’s reading.

You look back down. “I wasn’t spiraling.”

“You’re really going to lie to a profiler?”

“We’re both profilers.”

“Yeah, well, you have an obvious tell when you’re worrying about something.”

“I do not!”

You hear the quiet shuffling of papers.

A sigh leaves your lips, and you press the heels of your hands to your eyes. “I’m really sorry, Spe— Reid. I didn’t mean to drag you here with me.”

If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t give any indication of it.

“Who said anything about dragging?”

“I know you’re a germaphobe, and I’m a walking biohazard, and now you’re stuck here going over case files and, and I’m a liability right now—“

“Slow down,” He says, interrupting your slew of word vomit. His voice has dropped an octave, gaining a richer note. You should stop thinking about his voice. “I’m fine. You’re fine. The team is more worried than upset. You’re not the first person to come to work sick. And you won’t be the last.”

“They keep staring at me.”

“Because your current state and manner of behavior are disrupting their pre-conceived notions and set opinions of your character.”

You scrunch your nose. “Don’t get all clinical on me,”

You hear a small huff of laughter across the table. “I’ve come to work far worse than hopped up on cold medicine, believe me. Don’t worry about it. Just focus on working the case.”

Slowly, the itching under your skin settles, and you manage to swallow the lump in your throat. Eventually, you peel your hands away from your face and do what he says.

Hours pass by in a blur of text and you and Spencer occasionally either bouncing ideas off each other or making small breakthroughs. Spencer handles the relay of information because you can’t really go more than three full sentences without hacking up a lung. Seriously, what is cough syrup good for?

Sometime past midday, you start flagging. The words start blending and smushing together and your head gets harder and harder to hold up. You’re jolting yourself back awake every five minutes, forcing your body to just bear through the illness for the sake of productivity. You got yourself into this mess, you deal with the consequences.

You’re just… so tired. Maybe you’ll close your eyes, just for a few minutes. To get energy. And then you can get back to the case.

Just for a few minutes.

—

“She out?”

“Like a light. Powered through for a lot longer than I expected. But dextromethorphan gets us all in the end.”

A low whistle. “Poor kid. The ‘proving yourself to the team’ phase is rough.”

A hum. “I think it’s more than that.”

A beat passes.

“You got her?”

“Yeah,” Something soft and good smelling, like pine and coffee and something almost rich settles over your shoulders, “Yeah, I got her.”

—

When you wake, your neck is sore but you’re not cold, which is strange considering you remember falling asleep in a table.

Oh god you fell asleep on the table.

You jackrabbit up in place, knees knocking against the underside of the table. Hissing in pain, you tug the warm thing further around your shoulders which is—

Holy fucking shit it’s Spencer’s sweater.

Said man is nowhere to be found, and the conference/briefing room you’re in is dark. Not only did someone turn the lights off (you’re pretty sure you can guess who) but it’s dark outside. Meaning you didn’t just take a short nap.

You slept the entire day away.

Cold dread seeps into your shoulders. “Oh my god I’m so fired. Oh shit. Fuck, Hotch is going to be so pissed—“

The door opens and you stand, whirling around to face the doorway and then instantly regretting it when spots dance across your vision and your head swims.

You stumble, grabbing the edge of the chair for support and squinting at the figure in the doorway.

“Hotch?”

“Nope,” Spencer’s voice rings out in the room, “Guess again.”

You groan, sinking down into the chair. “Am I fired?”

He snorts. “Seeing as Hotch bet that you’d fall asleep before dark, I’d say no.”

“He bet against me?”

“Actually, everyone else thought you’d only last an hour. He bet for four.”

“How long did you bet for?”

He sets a mug in front of you, steaming tea wafting up and warming your face. “Three hours. You metabolize cough syrup better than I thought.”

You take the mug in your hands, warming your fingers but not actually taking a sip. “Mmm. Told you I’ve done this before.”

“I don’t think that’s the brag you think it is.”

You chuckle, which quickly turns into a cough.

“Drink your tea,” He commands softly from across the table, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and papers spread about him.

You dutifully take a sip, something restless growing calm in the back of your skull.

You eye is forearms, hoping the look-over you’re giving them is subtle. (It probably isn’t, but come on. A button down with the sleeves rolled up while you’re wearing his sweater is practically sinful.)

“Do you… want the lights turned back on? I’m awake now, so.”

He flips over a piece of paper, then scribbles something on a sticky note. “You were sleeping. And you have a headache. I can see just fine.”

“My headache isn’t that bad, really, I’m fi—“

He levels you with a look, and you sink a little lower in your chair. “Do you at least want your sweater back?”

“No. Keep it.”

“Careful, maybe I’ll just keep it forever,” You joke.

“I’d be fine with that.”

What. The. Fuck.

You stand, pushing out the chair with a loud screech. “I’m just gonna— bathroom,” You splutter, your face blazing and stomach doing a gymnastics routine, “I’m gonna use the bathroom. Bye.”

You’re screaming internally the entire way to the bathroom, and once you get there, open-mouthed silent screaming in the privacy of a stall.

Because. He said. He didn’t even look up. He just. And he. Maybe he—

No, no, no. You are not about to entertain that notion. Not again. He was just being nice. That’s all. That’s all.

Collecting yourself takes about five more minutes, and then you’re walking back to the conference/briefing room when you realize you never took the damn sweater off. He watched you scramble out of that room to the bathroom he has to know you weren’t using, with his sweater on.

This is the end for you, then. That’s it. It’s over.

You mentally slap yourself. Get it together. It’s fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

You re-enter the room marginally calmer than you left it. You slide into your seat, sip your tea (that he made you!) and keep working on the case.

You pretend you can’t see him smirking from across the table.

—

The case doesn’t last too long. The team catches the guy in the act of beating his next victim. Thankfully, you manage to save the poor woman before he finishes his plan, and with being caught red-handed, it’s fairly open and shut. Case closed. Which is great, because you really aren’t sure how many more nights you can suffer through trying to sleep in the hotel bed.

You have this thing, when you’re sick. You can’t sleep anywhere but the couch. Your couch. You figured (apparently foolishly) that it wouldn’t be too bad, since the crux of the issue is that you hate sleeping in your bed when you’re sick, but no. You’d spent every night of the case tossing and turning and coughing yourself out. Your lungs were tired. Your body was tired. You were tired.

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you when you board the jet. “You haven’t been near-overdosing on cough syrup again have you?”

“No,” You grouse, rubbing your face with your hand. “I’m like, not even sick anymore. I just didn’t sleep well.” For several nights in a row.

“Mmm,” He hums, non-committal.

You practically collapse into your usual seat on the jet, hunching in yourself and attempting to make yourself comfortable in the seat.

You blink your eyes open when you feel the seat jostle next to you. “Reid?”

He’s already pulling out a book. “What?”

“This isn’t your seat.”

“We don’t have assigned seats.”

“No, but you always sit over there.”

“And now I’m sitting here.”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to decide if you want to argue him on the point or not. You decide against it, because arguing will draw attention to the fact that you’re sitting next to each other having this conversation at all.

You settle back into your seat. “Whatever. Hope you’re not a loud page-turner.”

“Is that even a thing?”

You shrug, eyes falling shut again.

After a few minutes, you shiver, unconsciously scooting closer to the warmth of the person next to you, your sleep-addled brain barely processing the fact that it’s Spencer you’re pressing your shoulder into.

He repositions next to you, shoulder jostling you. You grumble, dropping your head to his arm. Now much closer, your nose fills with the smooth, all encompassing smell that is Spencer.

The dull chatter that fills the plane, the warm body next to yours, and, despite your earlier complaints, the quiet, gentle page-turning lull you into an easy sleep.

—

“Are you drugging her or something? I’ve seen her sleep more this week than I have in her entire time on the team.”

“The only drugging she’s done was voluntary.”

“Her neck is going to be so sore when she wakes up.”

“Sore? Mine would be broken if I did that.”

“Ah, the joys of youth.”

A beat passes. Then another.

“She’s a bit young, don’t you think?”

“Emily don’t start—“

“Just saying, Spence. HR would get a kick out of this.”

“Not like it never happens. We’ve all walked into supply closet B at the wrong time.”

“This isn’t meaningless sex though.”

“…No.”

Silence.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

A deft hand re-adjusts your head to a more comfortable angle. “I will be.”

—

Landing jolts you into wakefulness and off Spencer’s shoulder. It’s not embarrassing. It’s not. It’s only weird if you make it weird.

When you’re all back at HQ, you pull Hotch aside.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He nods. “In my office.”

You stalk up the stairs, aware of the eyes following your back. You step into the office, shutting the door behind you and pretending it doesn’t feel like sealing your doom.

He sits, gesturing for you to do so too, but you shake your head.

“I won’t be long. I just wanted to apologize.”

He blinks. “For?”

“I shouldn’t have come in. I was a liability, and it was unprofessional. Next time I’ll act with more discretion.”

Selfish, Your mother’s words echo in your head, your father’s words following suit: Try harder.

He laces his fingers together, resting him on his desk.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

“Because Reid was gone, and you needed a ge— someone smart.”

“Every member of my team is intelligent. That’s not why I chose you.”

He reaches down, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a newspaper clipping.

Your breath hitches when you read the words on it.

“Garcia found it,” He says, scanning the piece of paper. “‘Professor’s Assistant saves college class from school shooter’. You were sixteen.”

You look down at your shoes. “It was the scariest moment of my life. I didn’t— he came in, and I was behind the door getting paper, and he didn’t see me. He… I knew people would die if I didn’t do something. I tackled him. He shot me twice before I managed to kick the gun away. I almost bled out.”

He nods, putting the clipping down. “That’s who I chose. Not the genius. Not the consulting data analyst. Someone who wants to help people.”

He puts the clipping back in his drawer. “I’m not going to write you up for not having a healthy work-life balance. No one in this bureau does, and if they say they do, they’re lying.”

You sigh, rubbing at your face. “Now I look stupid for asking to talk.”

“It’s not an imposition. You’re a member of my team. That makes your wellbeing when you’re on the job my responsibility.”

Unable to form a response to that, you manage to stutter out a thank you, and then flee from his office, collapsing into your chair at your desk with a sigh.

A mug is set in front of you. Different mug, same tea, same hand.

“I think you need to reevaluate your opinion of Hotch and what kind of person you think he is.”

You take the mug with a glare. “I was reasonably concerned.”

“You thought you were going to get written up for coming to work sick?”

“It was a logical conclusion to draw,” You pause, taking a sip of the tea, which is just as good as it was last time. Actually, it’s slightly sweeter, and it soothes your throat more. “And stop profiling me. What’d you put in this?”

“Stop being so easy to profile,” Spencer says, crossing his arms. “Honey. They didn’t have any at the station.”

It’s quiet for a few moments: him staring at you, you pretending he’s not staring and sipping your tea.

“You should go home.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re still sick. Don’t tell me you just can’t wait to write all this paperwork.”

“Maybe I am.”

“No you’re not,” He picks up your jacket from where it’s hanging off the side of your cubicle and plops it in your lap. “Go home. I’ll sick Hotch on you.”

You stand, shrugging your jacket on and pointing an accusing finger at him. “You��re a cruel man.”

“Mhm. Sure. Go home.”

You grumble all the way to the door, but quiet when you look back to see him watching you fondly. He gives you a little two finger wave, and with the sheer amount of heat that rushes to your cheeks, you have no choice but leave immediately.

Stupid genius co-workers.

—

The next week brings wellness and a lull in cases.

Unfortunately, that also means you don’t have an excuse to put off your paperwork any longer.

Spencer taps the top of it with a slender finger. “Did it get bigger since the last time I saw it?”

He’s hanging around your desk for… some reason. He came to drop off paperwork from your last case, and then stuck around for some unknown purpose.

“No,” You groan, setting your mug of coffee aside and grabbing the first paper off the stack. “Still the same pile I’m procrastinating on.”

“Good luck,” He huffs, finally turning and walking back to his own desk. It’s still in your eyeline, if you crane your neck a little.

You sigh, grabbing your earbuds from your desk, knowing you can’t put the paperwork off any longer. You’re pretty sure Records is going to start sending you death threats soon.

Making your way through the pile is slow going. It’s terrible. The only part of working with the BAU you hate is the paperwork. It’s tedious and never-ending and it always gives you a headache.

The only times you get up are to use the bathroom and get more coffee. JJ kindly tells you that you should probably leave your mug in the break room after your sixth or so trip. Spencer, somehow, appears in the room, and rattles off the symptoms of caffeine overdose.

You leave the mug there.

You continue working well after everyone else leaves. It gets dark, people go home, office lights go off, and while the pile has largely decreased in size, it’s still not finished.

You have to finish. Hotch had made an offhand comment about turning in your paperwork on time and now you have to finish it. To show him you’re not lazy.

You’ve only got a little bit of paperwork left when a hand taps you on your shoulder.

You yank your earbuds out, blinking blearily. “Wha?”

Spencer’s face swims into view. “Come on, time to go home.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Making sure you didn’t fall asleep and forget to go home. They do lock the doors at a certain point. Ask me how I know.”

Your brain is moving like sludge, and it takes you several minutes to process what he says. He continues standing in front of you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“But… the paperwork.”

“Will be here tomorrow. Come on, up we go.”

You whine as he takes your hands, hauling you to your feet. You attempt to scrub the sleep out of your eyes while messily moving papers about so your desk doesn’t look like a copy machine threw up all over it.

He pushes your jacket into your hands and you shrug it on, grumbling all the way through the doors and out to the parking lot, Spencer in tow. He follows dutifully behind you, and everytime you look back at him to voice your complaints all he does is smile.

“It’s cold.”

“That does tend to happen in winter.”

When you get to your car, he reaches out, tugging on your wrist.

“Hey,” He says, looking down at you, eyes deep pools of some emotion you can’t identify, “Drive safe, okay? It’s icy.”

“My commute isn’t that bad. And I’m,” You break off with a huge yawn. “Not even that tired.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence, smarty-pants.”

“Oh, so we’re locked into the smarty-pants thing, huh?”

“Yep.” He says, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets and popping the P.

“Well then what am I supposed to call you? Robot-Reid?”

“How about Spencer?”

His words hang in the night air, mingling in the puffs of air from both of your mouths.

“…What rhymes with Spencer?”

“Sensor, denser, dispenser—“

“Dis-Spencer,” You say, smiling to yourself. “I like the sound of that one.”

“You know dis comes from—“

“The latin word dis, and the prefix is used to denote a reversal of absence of an action, expressing negation, or expressing completeness or intensification of an unpleasant or unattractive action.”

He chuckles, smiling down at his shoes. “That’s why you’re the smarty-pants.”

“Oh please. You know all of that and then some.”

He shrugs. “Maybe, maybe not.”

You both stand in the cold of the parking lot, neither willing to leave yet.

Before you can think better of it, you dart forward, throwing your arms around Spencer’s neck and mumbling “Goodnight, Dis-Spencer.”

You step away quickly, awkwardly giving him a small wave before hurrying into your car and driving away.

Smooth.

—

The next case is… really rough.

Two spree killers, working as a team. A father and a son; the son was groomed into the lower position.

Not anything you haven’t seen before. Trained for. Studied.

No amount of studying could have prepared you for the cold grip of dread that gripped your throat like a vice when you finally confronted the unsubs, and heard eerily familiar words uttered from the father:

“You’re a good for nothing son! I wouldn’t have had to do this if you weren’t such a disappointment of a child! Why couldn’t you have just been more like your siblings?”

The son was killed before anyone could intervene.

Wrapping up the case left you shaken— you’d watched with hollow eyes as the boy’s body was zipped in a body bag.

A hand landing roughly on your shoulder shoves awareness back into your body and you flinch, hard, whirling around with your shoulders raised to meet the oncoming threat.

Only it’s not a threat. It’s Hotch. And he looks concerned.

You force your body to relax. “I’m sorry, I’ll go help question the rest of the family—“

“Are you okay?”

You blink. “What?”

“Are you alright?” He asks again.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m okay. It just… reminded me of something.”

Hotch purses his lips but doesn’t say anything. He looks he’s going to say something, but then decides against it.

“Help Reid get the last of the evidence. Once you two are finished head back to the station. We’ll meet you there.”

You nod, inwardly relieved about not having to deal with the family members. You might start actually crying.

You sidle up to Spencer who’s tagging blood splatters on the carpet. He wordlessly hands you a pair of gloves. He doesn’t ask. You don’t tell.

You work side by side for the better part of two hours, occasionally conversing with the local police or helping the crime scene investigators tag evidence.

If he knows what’s bothering you, he doesn’t say. You wouldn’t have an answer anyway. You’re far too gone in your own head.

You follow Spencer to the break room back at the station, watching him quietly make two mugs of tea. He presses one into your hands with a gentle command to let it cool for a few minutes. The mug is warm in your hands. Spencer is standing next to you, a mug of his own in his hands. Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

You chant this mantra in your head while you wait for the rest of the team to come back.

Your parents aren’t here. You’re fine.

Spencer doesn’t ask before sitting next to you on the jet. He just does. He hands you a book, then opens his own.

You don’t read a single page. He must know. Still, he says nothing, just presses a little closer to you when he sees your hands shaking.

The team gives the two of you space when you finally land. You stumble off the jet, trip backpack slung over your shoulder, legs wobbly and breath uneven.

You’re not sure why the case upset you this much. Your parents don’t upset you this much. They just— they make the same kind of comments, and so did that father, except now his son is dead because he killed him—

“Hey,” Hotch approaches you slowly, makes sure you can see him. You hate that he feels the need to do so. “Take tomorrow off. Stay home. Recuperate.”

“I’m fi—“

“We all have tough missions and I would do the same for any agent,” He says, clasping you gently on the shoulder. “Besides. We both know you haven’t been sleeping well.”

Your lips twitch. “Isn’t there a rule against profiling each other?”

“That rule is for all of you. Not me.”

He gives your shoulder one last squeeze before departing.

You manage to haul yourself into HQ and out to the parking lot, cursing as your cold fingers fumble with your keys. Frustrated tears begin to well in your eyes and you press the heels of your hands to your face, sucking in a shuddering breath and begging it all to just stop.

Someone gently pries your hands open, pulling your keys out of your clenched grip. Your shoulders shake as you heave, gasping for cold night air that burns on the way down.

A hand finds its way to the back of your head, pressing it forward into something warm and solid. Another arm wraps around your waist, keeping you close, while the hand on your head drifts down to your neck, squeezing and rubbing intermittently.

“I’m sorry,” You cry, rubbing your face and smearing your tears across your hands, “I don’t know why, it just—“

“You don’t need a reason,” Spencer says, spreading his hand out wide so it covers the entire nape of your neck, “Sometimes it all just gets to you.”

You nod into his chest, lowering your hands from his face to wrap around his torso, clutching it like a lifeline.

“I don’t want to go home tonight,” You whisper, ashamed. “I’ll dream of it. And them. And it’ll be cold and alone—“

“Come home with me,” He says, voice a little breathless while he holds you closer, “Come home with me.”

He says the last part a little desperate.

You sniff. “Okay.”

You hesitantly pull away from the hug, but not before Spencer’s hand moves from your neck to your face, his thumb brushing away the tear tracks on your face. He drops his head down, and you feel the gentlest brush of lips against the skin in between your eyebrows.

“Let’s go home.”

He tugs you along by the hand, helping you into his little old car, tucking your bags into the backseat. He lets the radio play softly while he drives, loud enough to quiet your thoughts a bit but not so loud as to overwhelm you.

He helps you out of the car when you arrive to the apartment building, carrying one of your bags up the stairs- you’d insisted on carrying the rest of your stuff.

He unlocks the apartment door, ushering you into the warmth and comfort that is Spencer’s home.

It’s exactly like you pictured, if not tidier. A bit more modern than you’d imagined. Books are everywhere of course, but so are knick-knacks and trinkets and other little bits of things that are so decidedly Spencer. There’s even a quilt on the couch.

He sets your bag down by the door. “The shower is down that hall to the left. Use whatever products you need to. Do you have any clothes to change into?”

You chew on the inside of your lip. “In my luggage, yeah, but they need to be washed.”

“I can put them in the wash while you shower. In the meantime, you can borrow something of mine.”

You shuffle in place. “I don’t wanna impose—“

“Please let me do this for you.”

The raw, rough edge to his tone makes you pause. You nod in acquiescence.

He takes your hand in his again, tugging you into his bedroom. With one hand, he opens drawers, handing you his smallest pair of sweatpants, and a large, worn, and incredibly soft Caltech sweatshirt.

“I’ll have to cuff these,” You mumble when he hands you the sweatpants, “My legs are half the length of yours.”

“You’ll make it work, I’m sure. Now shoo. I’ll have laundry and food finished when you get out of the shower.”

The bathroom, like the rest of the house, is clean and neat, and to your relief, houses more than just a five-in-one in the shower. Spencer actually owns multiple products for you to choose from and it hits you while you’re lathering the body wash you chose because of how good it smelled that you’re in Spencer’s shower, showering with his body wash, about to put on his clothes.

You’re going to smell like him. His clothes will smell like him. Everywhere in the apartment smells like him.

You decide to blame the near permanent flush on your cheeks on the heat from the shower.

When you exit the shower, fresh and drowning in Spencer’s clothes, he’s standing at his kitchen island, putting the final touches on two bowls of soup.

You almost tear up again. “You made me soup?”

“It’s widely regarded as a comfort food for people who are ill or otherwise sad, and is most commonly made in the wintertime.”

He gives you a little jazz hand, gesturing to the soup as if saying ta-da!

You really do tear up then.

He’s in front of you in an instant, hands poised to help. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Do you not like soup? I can make something else, or we can order in, or—“

You scrub at your face with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “You’re just, you’re just really sweet.”

His face softens. “Oh, honey.”

He envelops you in the second hug of the night, except this time you’re crying in earnest now. Your crying about your parents, about the nights you went to bed hungry because your Dad told that you were smart, and to figure something out, but you were too young to work any of the kitchen appliances. You’re crying about your first best friend, who ditched you the second your brother asked her out. You’re crying about all the classes and friendships you missed out on while you were in the hospital with gunshot wounds. You’re crying about how your parents didn’t visit you once. Not even when you were in the ICU.

Spencer holds you through it all, a steady rock against the battering waves crashing in your head.

After a few minutes, you wear yourself out, quieting down to sniffling, your shoulders hitching.

He pulls back, studying your face. “Are you ready to eat some soup now?”

You nod, blinking the final tears out of your eyes. “I got snot on your shirt.”

“That’s why we invented washing machines.”

He keeps up a stream of idle chatter while you eat, explaining all the different major soups in the world and where they came from. It’s a balm against your weary mind, lulls you into peace and safety.

Or maybe that’s just the effect Spencer has on you.

When you finish your food, he takes your bowl, deposits it in the sink, and then takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

“I don’t have a guest room, so you can take the bed,” He says, voice soft. “There’s extra blankets in the closet next to the bathroom if you get cold.”

He turns to leave, but a stab of panic slices down your chest, and your hand is reaching out and grabbing his wrist before you can stop yourself.

He pauses, turning back around. “You want me to stay?”

You take your lip between your teeth. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He studies you in the dark of the room— clad in his clothes, face puffy from crying.

The muscles in his jaw work.

“I can’t do this platonically. If we do this—“

You surge up on your toes, grabbing his face and smashing your lips together so quickly your teeth clack.

He goes rigid, then kisses your right back, hands coming up to cup your face, squeeze your neck, smooth over your shoulders.

You pull away first, looking at him through your lashes with hazy eyes. “I can’t do this platonically either.”

He traces the planes of your face with his thumb. “You have no idea how long and how much I’ve wanted to have you right here, just like this.”

“Crying and sad?”

“Dressed in my clothes, in my apartment, in my bed.”

You pause. “You know, tonight, I can’t, I’m not going to have—“

“I’m not interested in sex with you tonight,” He says, reading your mind, “I just want to get that empty look in your eyes gone.”

“Just?”

“Well,” He says, tugging you down onto the bed with him, crawling under the covers and covering you both, “There are other things. A lot of other things, Like this,”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“And this,”

He pulls you flush against him under the covers, tucking your head under his chin.

“But mostly this.”

He presses one last kiss to the crown of your head.

“Really?”

“Really.”

It’s quiet for a moment before his voice breaks the silence.

“After I got out, all I wanted was something soft and gentle. Having something, someone soft and lovely to hold was all I looked forward to. And then I came back and I met you, with your polite introductions and the way you care so deeply about so much and I knew. I knew who I wanted to hold.”

“Wow,” You breathe, “Yours sounds so poetic. Mine is much less so.”

“Mmm,” He hums, “And what might that be?”

You press your face against his chest and mumble so quietly you’re wondering if he can ever hear you:

“I just wanted you to choose me. I wanted to be someone’s first choice.”

He’s so quiet after that you think he must not have heard you.

You’re on the verge of sleep when you hear his whisper:

“There couldn’t be anyone else for me.”

જ⁀➴

EDIT: if you want to be tagged in the sequel when it’s posted, please comment “tag me please!” or some variation of THE POST LINKED HERE !! if you comment asking for a tag on this post, you will not be added to the tag list. tag lists are hard to keep track of, so please keep them all in one place !! :)

EDIT TWO: THE SEQUEL IS UP !! It is linked at the top of this post under “next” :)

#girlblogging #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid x reader #soft dom spencer reid #soft spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff

6K notes · View notes

lxnarphase · 1 year ago

Text

━━ ❝ sweet, sticky, thick, and pretty ❞

☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : toji wants to give you another baby

☾₊‧⁺...cw : toji fushiguro x fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, pre-established relationship, overstimulation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, dirty talk, rough sex, begging, smug and cocky reader, feral toji

☾₊‧⁺...a/n : this is a post from my old blog but i revamped it and i really wanted to share this again because i was really proud of it. and yes, it's another breeding kink + pregnant kink. consider it a part two, since it takes place after megumi is born

toji never thought he’d get off on the idea of having another kid with you.

yet here he is, dick hard in his sweatpants as he thinks about you carrying his baby again...how you'd start to fill out all over again, that cute chubbiness coming back, how he'd have an excuse to dote on you whenever you complained about the simplest of things.

it starts off with how he sees you coo over megumi, calling him your sweet baby. you're such a good mother, too, it's clear you'd likely be the favorite parent to that little brat.

but god, does he find it attractive just seeing you be a mom to the kid that he gave you.

the day you ask megumi what he wants for his upcoming 4th birthday at dinner, neither one of you is prepared for the words that come out of your son's mouth.

“i want a baby sister,” he states bluntly as he chews on the steamed carrots, looking at you and toji. it was clear from how confident the little guy is that he's put a lot of thought into this.

“but, i don’t want her to look like daddy. he’s ugly, i want her to look like mommy.”

little brat. you straight up choke, trying to stop the laugh-coughs as toji looks at his son, offended. this really is his son, because who else but you and the kid he made with you could have the nerve to say shit like that to him?

“twerp, you look just like me, you realize that, right?”

megumi huffs, looking at his dad in the cutest little glare. “that’s 'cause i'm a boy, though," he explains as if it's obvious, his precious little cheeks puffed up as he stuffs more of his food in his mouth.

"my sister has to be like mommy. you’d be an ugly girl, daddy.” toji just rolls his eyes, pinching the cheeks of the mini him, ignoring his protests. as the two bicker, you think. would it...really be that bad to have another baby? you always wanted a girl, after all, and toji took such good care of you and megumi...it couldn't be that bad. “well, uhm,” you begin, catching the attention of toji, an unfamiliar smile on your face.

there's a mischievous look on your face right now, his eyes narrowing as he waits for your response. whatever you're about to say is either going to haunt him for the next few days or make him roll his eyes at you.

“i'm sure daddy and i can work something out for you, 'gumi, but let’s think of some other things, too, m'kay?”

ah.

you went the haunting route.

ignoring the little cheer his son let out, toji can't hide the disbelieving look that crosses his face when he processes what you just said.

'daddy'?

you've said the word, sure, usually when you talk to megumi about him. but something was different about how you said it, the way you looked at him when you said it, the barely visible flutter of your eyes...a silent promise there'd definitely be a deeper conversation about it later.

the very day megumi has a sleepover with the neighbor's kid, yuuji, toji is mentally cheering. he loves his son with all his heart, he truly does, but having a toddler in bed meant limited contact with his pretty wife.

it's only been 3 days since that little comment you made and it's been on toji's mind constantly. every time he tried to bring it up with you, megumi would interrupt and toji was not being the reason his son ended up traumatized because he overheard mommy and daddy talking about making babies in the kitchen.

"bye, gumi! make sure you behave for mr. nanami, okay? have fun with yuuji," you coo as you press two kisses to your son's cheeks, snapping toji back to the present.

"see ya, kid, be good," toji says, giving a nod of acknowledgement to nanami. megumi barely says goodbye before he runs after yuuji to the car, his run a bit awkward because of his overnight backpack.

waving goodbye to nanami, you shut the door, turning to look at toji with that smile as you.

"hi, toj."

you think you're so cute, don't you?

"hey, mama."

toji can't even lie, you are. wearing his t-shirt and sweatpants? yeah, your the cutest thing he's ever laid eyes one. his hands rest on your hips, pulling you flush to his chest. fuck, you weren't even doing anything but he could already feel himself getting hard just from looking at you.

he's never been so whipped in his life.

"d'you wanna talk," you murmur lowly, your finger running over the thin silver chain on his neck. "we could go to the bedroom...and talk about the baby thing."

toji's eyes darken at the suggestion, knowing exactly what would happen the moment you both go into the bedroom. "yeah. think it's 'bout time we talked about it," he hums as he grips your wrist, tugging you to your room.

as soon you both step foot into the bedroom, toji hungrily presses your lips against his, letting out a deep groan. "had me thinkin' about knockin' you up again all fuckin' week, mama," toji sighs against your lips, tongue running over your lower lip.

"wanted to stuff you full so fucking bad."

feeling you sigh so prettily into the kiss, his doesn't hesitate to shove his tongue in your mouth, hands busying themselves as they push your (his) sweats down off your hips before guiding you back to the bed.

you knew he would get excited over your comment, but you didn't think it would be to the point where he was rutting into you as he practically devoured you, feeling your back hit the bed.

“you want to give our 'gumi a sister? wanna be a mommy again," he questions, breaking the kiss to press his forehead against yours. one of his hands slithers up under the oversized t-shirt to cup one of your tits and roughly knead it, his thumb just barely grazing over your nipple.

"wanna have another kid with big, bad toji? tsk, poor cunt missed gettin' stuffed full of cum?"

you just hum a little breathless. your hand comes up to cup his cheek, looking from his lips back up to his eyes. he's so handsome when he's over you like this, his chain dangling right in your face.

“maaaaybe. megumi just made me think about it, 's all. you've been a good dad t' him, how could i not want to give you another one,” you coo, guiding him closer so you can press a kiss against the scar on his lip.

“besides…”

toji grunts when he feels your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him flush against you so you can feel the thick, heaviness of his arousal through his sweatpants.

“don’t you want me to make you a daddy again, toji? c'mon, knock me up, big guy.”

after those words leave your pretty little mouth, toji is on you as he realizes that you're 100% going to give him the worse breeding kink ever.

"'m gonna fuckin' ruin you," he growls into your ear. you aren't given a second to protest before he's ripped your panties off, complaints falling on deaf ears. the tips of his fingers gently run over your puffy pussy lips, your slick wetness coating his fingers.

"fuck, mama, you're soaked already." his eyes are focused on your face as you squirm and whimper when he swirls little circles into your clit, an evil smirk on his face. "can't wait to fill you up 'til you're dripping with my cum, doll."

you can't stop your hips from trying to grind into his hand, eyes rolling back when he teased your entrance. "toji, c'mon, baby, i need you s'bad."

"baby, you know you can't take me without prep," he coos at you. he can feel how hot and slick you are, finally, finally slipping two of his fingers inside your cunt. and oh, the way you arch your back a little bit with a pleading whine of his name is so, so pretty, you're so fucking cute.

"mmn, maybe y'don't need prep, you just sucked my fingers right in," he says huskily before pressing a little kiss to the corner of your mouth. "you wanna try, mama? wanna see if you can fit my cock in you? really gonna feel that stretch, though, babe," toji warns, knowing you can't give a sensible answer when he starts pumping his fingers in and out.

when it seems like your about to answer him, the only thing that escapes your mouth is a shaky moan, his thick fingers curling to hit just the right spot inside of you that has you gushing. unable to form words, you tug on his shirt and nod frantically, just wanting to feel toji stuffing you full.

"yeah? you wanna try?" toiji pulls his fingers out of you, chuckling when you whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. he pops his fingers in his mouth, cock throbbing at the addictive taste of your cunt on his tongue. "c'mon, we're both wearing too much, let's get you outta that shirt, ma."

you waste no time throwing the shirt off, not even giving him the chance to undress you. but once your shirt is off, you're practically ripping off his stupid black t-shirt that made his pecs look fucking delicious and those damn sweatpants and boxers that hid your prize.

as you fuss over his boxers, toji takes a moment to look at you spread out on the bed before him. you still had a bit of chub on you, tummy nice and soft and cute, just how he likes it. if he knew where his phone was, he'd take a picture of you right now; frustrated, horny, naked, and pretty. all for him.

"tojiiii, stop staring and kick off your stupid boxers, you're getting on my nerves!"

you can't even look him in the eye as you say that because you're too busy staring right at his cock, a thick bead of precum formed at the tip. the lick of your lips told him everything he needed to know, but he wasn't fucking your mouth, not tonight at least.

"what? i can't look at my own wife," he asks with a raised eyebrow, biting back a laugh when you swat at his hand that pinches one your puffy nipple. "tch, so rude, doll."

before you can snap back at him, he brushes the swollen head of his cock against your slick folds, smearing your wet over the tip. that shuts you up quickly and toji has to hold back another laugh. always so fussy until he finally gives you what you want. he's spoiled you rotten.

"toji," comes a soft whine, so soft he nearly misses it. your eyes are focused between your legs, lower lips between your teeth as he teases you with his cockhead. you huff, pushing your hand against his chest to give you enough space to shift positions, knowing exactly what would get him to stop teasing you.

once you roll over, you shift so that you're face down, ass up, you hand slipping between your thighs to spread your sticky pussy open, slick dripping down your fingers. "tojiiii, please? please, baby, stop teasing an' put a baby in me...please, hubby, give your wife what she wants."

any other whines or begs are interrupted when his hand comes down hard on your ass. he was going to give you what you wanted, what you both wanted. he was going to fuck you, fill you up with all his cum and whatever leaked out? he’d make sure to push it back in, whether with his fingers, mouth, or tip of his dick.

when he finally pushes into you, he just lets out the most wrecked groan you’ve heard from him yet, each inch sinking into you stretching those tight walls just a bit more.

"holy shit...fuuck me, baby, too fucking tight, you're strangling my cock," he hisses, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he gave you inch after inch.

god, just the thought of fucking you not just to feel good, but to fill you up, get you to take his seed deep inside to give him another kid? it's fucking with his head, his wife was gonna be the death of him.

both of you moan once he's all the way inside. you feel so full, his cock is too fucking big it doesn't make any sense and you genuinely think you should've let him fully prep you...but shifting your hips just a little bit has his tip pressing against something sinful. you whine and reach back to grab at one of his hands on your waist, turning to shoot him a mean glare as you demand, “stop stalling n’ knock me up, toji."

who is he to deny what his wife asks?

using a hand to steady himself on the headboard, his hips begin to move slowly, pulling out just an inch and pushing forward again. "so tight 'n' warm..." each thrust hits deeper and more powerful than the last as toji begins to pick up speed, the thickness of his cock hitting every deep part of you.

it's almost too much, but you don't want him to stop, especially not when toji started running his mouth.

“shit, look at you, baby…takin’ it like a champ.”

now you really wish you stayed on your back, then at least you could've slapped a hand over his mouth to shut him up. you drop your head down against the mattress with a moan, starting to move your hips to match his thrusts, the room filling with the sound of skin slapping on skin.

“fuuck, c'mon, throw that ass back on me, thaaaat’s it, good girl.”

he starts pounding into you harder when he feels you tightening up on him. the sweet moans and adorable words of “gimme more,” “baby, please,” or “s’ too good, toj,’” only pushing him to get even deeper, to get you to cum so he could stuff you full.

he coos when he sees you starting to scramble up further on the bed, away from his relentless fucking. he knows that he found that sweet spot that would have you creaming in minutes.

"tsk, you just never fuckin' learn, huh? 's always gonna be too much for you, isn't it," he huffs as his hand finds its way into your hair, tugging your head back to keep you from moving more. “hey. hey, nonono, don’t run away from it, lemme have it," he coos at you, following you up the mattress.

you never change, always swearing up and down that you wouldn't run from his cock, that you'd be able to take him. you wanted this, you wanted your precious husband to fuck another baby into you, t'give 'gumi a little sister, s’ i’m gonna give it to you.”

toji may sound like he’s still put together, but he’s just thankful you can’t see his face since yours is pressed into the pillows at the top of the bed.

you can’t see how he’s barely holding himself together, trying his hardest not to let himself go too much. the last thing he needs is to cum before you, knowing that while you wouldn’t mind, he’d be annoyed for breaking his streak.

he’s brought back into the present when you manage to turn your head a little, able to look him in the eye, and god, does he love what he sees.

your mouth is open as you moan for him, eyes lidded and focused on only him. he sees the little tears gathered in them, not quite spilling over but the fact that they’re there tells him he’s the one making you feel that good.

“tuh-toji, ’m gonna cum, gonna cum—!”

"yeah?" hearing you moan so sweetly for him only makes toji smirk, fingers digging into your hips as he helps you meet each thrust. “gonna make a mess f'me already? poor little cunt can't handle gettin' fucked so good? mmn, shit, 's okay, baby. let go for me, mama, cum on daddy’s cock.”

"t-tojiiiii," you shakily moan, nearly ripping the sheets as you cum suddenly. it was his voice, the way he tried to sound put together but you could hear how desperate he was to feel your pussy clamp down on him and get his cock nice and messy.

toji's deep, guttural moans mix with your cries when he unexpected is pushed over the edge, the way you desperately grinded back against him causing him to swear under his breath as he lost his pace, groaning your name as he emptied into you. it felt so hot, the pulsating warmth of his tip nudging against your cervix paired with his thick cum filling you up dizzying the both of you.

you expect some kind of snarky comment from toji, trying to catch your breath so you could reply when he said it. but nothing comes (you have to stop yourself from laughing at the pun). you turn to look back, sighing when toji pulls out of you. usually he stayed inside, leaning down to tease you for cumming so fast...but he didn't.

something was wrong and for some reason, you felt like your pussy was in danger.

“toj…?”

he didn’t answer. he probably didn’t even hear you, not with the way he was looking so intensely at the mess between your thighs. the mess he made. toji doesn’t know what comes over him, his hands practically moving on their own as he moves you over onto your back, then moving his hands down to your sensitive hole and spreading.

the scene in front of him just breaks him. you let out a soft whine, hips gently rolling into his hands. his eyes stay stuck between your legs—sharp and focused—as they watch the thick globs of his hot cum drip out of your hole and down onto the bed sheets.

the groan that leaves him is sinful, and once you make eye contact with him, you realize how fucked you are. he’s hard again, almost making you believe he didn’t cum if it weren’t for the creamy sheen of his cum on his throbbing dick and the hotness of his dripping out of you. before you know it, toji’s climbing over you, making sure your legs get pushed over to his shoulders as he pushes you into a mating press.

yeah.

you're fucked.

you keep making eye contact, and now that he’s so close to you, you see how crazed he looks. his eyes, completely black due to his blown pupils, have an unhinged look in them, and the half smirk on his face only makes you worry about your ability to walk the next day.

“t-toji, if you need a break to calm down, then-oh!”

he shuts you up by pushing himself inside you, loving how your eyes cross so prettily. he has you now, you can't run away from the overstimulating feeling of him fucking you in this position. and when you feel his hands come up and lock together on your head to really keep you in place, you feel yourself gush all over his cock at the simple display of how strong he was compared to you.

you're so fucked.

all you can do is moan and cry out his name, hands grabbing whatever part of him they could reach. but he doesn't let you break eye contact, keeping you close to his face so he could see every little expression. and fuck, does he like what he sees.

“t-tojiii, t’ deep, t’ deep!”

“wan’ me t’ stop? t’ stop fuckin’ this messy hole?”

“fuck, y-you stop, and I’ll c-choke the shit out of yo-ouh!”

“that’s it, take it, take daddy’s cock, mama, lemme breed you.”

everything about this position is driving both of you crazy.

the closeness has you reeling, the way toji just cannot bring himself to break eye contact, needing to see what he was doing to you.

his thick cock is hitting deep, almost too deep, with the way each thrust of his hips causes the tip to press into the sweet spot inside you every. single. time.

he has you for the whole day and the whole night, he's going to make sure you're stuffed entirely and doesn't plan on stopping until either you tell him you need a break or until he can't cum anymore. and even then, he doesn't think anything will be able to get him out of your cunt.

but with the way he just moaned into your mouth, thick spurts of more cum coating your insides…and the way he didn’t get soft, instead pressing you even deeper into the mattress as he began to pound into you with a groan of how much he loved your pussy…

you were sure it would be a while until he was done with you.

#toji smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #🔪 ── toji.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ

15K notes · View notes

woantohae · 2 months ago

Text

In my arms || (Bob Reynolds x reader)

Summary: The Thunderbolts are constantly on missions, busy trying to do good and save whoever they can. One of them was Bob Reynolds, the defenseless yet powerful man who is part of this team and family. However, he doesn't participate in these missions so he can continue practicing controlling his powers.

Despite telling them he's capable, the team prefers to give him more time to get used to them, until one mission, when a member of the team is injured. And all Bob can think about is the fury he feels when he hears Y/N being hurt. And how much he wants revenge on whoever did it.

content warnings: angst, he fell first and he fell harder, "avengers" tower, fluff, thunderbolts being a family, violence, curse words, SPOILERS FOR THUNDERBOLTS*, Yelena and Bob being like brother and sister, "touch her and you die" trope.

Author's note: I WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS*!!!! And let me tell you, it was better than i imagined. Honestly, it became one of my favorites and it can easily be in my top 3 of Marvel movies. I just can't describe the experience with enough words, but the waiting was totally worth it ✨️ AND THE POST CREDIT SCENE 👀 MARVEL ATE WITH THAT ONE.

With that being said, i'm excited to tell you that i'm gonna write more of Bob Reynolds 👉🏻👈🏻 So here you go, a one shot with him, wich contains a few spoilers of the movie. At this point our reader will be polaris lol.

Hope you like it and comment what do you think of this one 💌

Bob was getting used to the place.

What had once been Avengers Tower had now become his new "home." He had an incredible view of New York City, several rooms to hang out in, thousands of dishes and meals he'd never been able to prepare in his life, and the pleasant company he shared every day.

The team had made him feel comfortable and part of something worthwhile, despite what they'd gone through to get to this moment.

Bob still felt guilty about what happened when Void took control of him and darkened everything in its path, even when Yelena reminded him it wasn't his fault and that he wasn't alone. The blonde had become a trusted person for him and was always there when he needed her. He told her his secrets and how he felt, and the Russian always gave him advice or a word of encouragement. Even with the trust he had in her, he confided in her something he never thought would happen to him. Or rather, something he thought was impossible to happen in such a short time.

He was attracted to Y/N.

The girl whom his other self had caused to see horrible things from her past, the one who could move metal objects with a simple flick of her fingers, and the one who made his heart race and his cheeks blush. It was a feeling that consumed him every time he was near her or even thought about her.

And Yelena, being the good spy she was and good at reading people, knew how Bob felt about Y/N. She always encouraged him to get closer and talk to her more, but Bob simply couldn't do it. It was not that easy.

"It sounds easy," John says, after hearing the plan for carrying out the mission.

Bob shakes his head to return to reality and ignore such thoughts.

"Wait until we get there and they welcome us with open arms," Bucky says, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"We still made it last time, and look at us here," Y/N replies, shrugging her shoulders.

Ava laughs and shakes her head.

"We'd better get moving," she says.

Bob looks at the group with hope in his eyes, but feels unsure about what he's gonna say.

"Can I come with you, guys?" he asks.

All heads turn to look at him with a mixture of surprise and sympathy for his question. They know he wants to help however he can, but after Void was under control and hadn't appeared for quite some time, they weren't so sure it was a good idea to expose him like that again.

"Bob..." Yelena begins to say.

Bob hurries to explain himself.

"I know what you're gonna say. But I think I'm ready, I know I can control it" Bob says with determination in his voice "I've been practicing and trying to talk to him, so maybe I can do it, today"

"We know, Bobby," says John, "But we must complete the mission without any mistakes or problems along the way."

The brunette looks down and clears his throat, nodding. He raises his gaze to smile and meet Y/N's gaze, who smiles back.

"No, no, I understand," he says dejectedly. "When the time is right, I can come with you."

Bucky pats his shoulder and Alexei gives him a thumbs-up. Despite their attempt to lift his spirits, he can't help but feel useless and without any reason to be in the group, other than washing dishes, tidying the place, or reading books he finds lying around.

He hates the feeling.

But it is what it is, right now. And he has to face it.

After the meeting to organize the plan, the group dispersed to look for the weapons and prepare the car in which they would go to the location. Bob watched from afar as the rest of them prepared, while playing with his fingers. He shifted his gaze to the large window overlooking the city and didn't feel Y/N's presence approaching him.

"Hey," she said in a soft tone.

Bob turned his head to look at her and smiled delightedly.

"Hey," she asked.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nods and laughs softly, pretending to be okay and swallowing the feeling that bothered him.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine"

The girl mimics his smile and stares at him, while Bob feels the heat spread to his cheeks.

"Hey, how about we watch a movie when I get back?" she offers, patting his arm to get his attention.

Bob smiles.

"I was actually thinking it could be a movie night with just us. If you like that idea," Y/N says, crossing her arms and shrugging her shoulders with a smile on her face.

"A movie would be nice. I think it would be fun to have a movie night with the rest of the team," he says awkwardly "We haven't had one of those in a while, so..."

She lets out a soft laugh, thinking how cute he looks all flustered.

"Oh..." he remains silent to calm his nerves until he speaks again so as not to make a fool of himself. "Oh! Yeah, just the two of us. Of course. It could be fun. Count me in!"

Y/N smiles and laughs softly, wich sounds angelical to Bob's ears.

"Great. It's a date" she says.

Bucky calls her to let her know they're about to leave, so she starts walking away from Bob.

"See you, Bob."

"See you. Good luck," Bob says with a dazed smile on his face, remembering the girl's words.

It's a date.

Bob walks to his room with an excited smile, feeling happiness in his chest, but when he remembers the last thing Y/N said, his eyes widen.

"Oh shit! It is a date!"

He needs to prepare for it.

----------

Bob listened and watched from the communications room to see how the team was doing on the mission.

It wasn't going so easy as they planed back in the tower a few hours ago, as they had run into a group of mercenaries who weren't going to give up so easily. The brunette just hoped everyone was okay and managed to complete the mission—and he really hoped Y/N was okay and didn't get hurt.

A feeling of anguish and anxiety was causing Bob's chest to tighten. His leg kept moving as he played with the Rubik's Cube in his hands, unable to complete a color.

The sound of bullets filled his ears, and his jaw clenched as he heard and saw Yelena or Bucky being hit. Alexei grumbled as he tried to pull a man off John to help him, and Ava took care of a few. Y/N tried to stop the bullets as best she could, but there were some hidden snipers she couldn't sense with her powers so easily.

"There's to many of them!" John complains through the earpiece in Bob's ear.

"Fuck! If we don't stop the ones from the roof we cannot go back to the car!" Ava exclaims in an almost exhaustive voice.

"Shit. C'mon guys" Bob whispers while frowning his eyebrows at the scene.

"Bob, can you see how many are on the roof?" Yelena asks from the communicator in her ear.

"Uh, yeah, yeah" he says inmediatly "There's five on the roof. Three of them has guns and two of them are programming something on the computer. Seems like.... oh no"

"What Bob?" Bucky asks.

"It's a bomb! You need to get out of there" Bob says quickly.

"Shit," Yelena curses.

"I can try to stop them. But I need you to cover my back," Y/N says in a confident, hurried tone.

Bob watches as the girl begins to head toward the other side to attack the group of men with guns at the entrance. The others try to stop anyone from attacking her, and she moves stealthily between the bodies to reach the entrance. Bob focuses his attention on the cameras in the building that shows Y/N, his heart aching at what's happening in the footage. Or what could happen.

"Please, be careful," Bob whispers.

Y/N stops the guards' bullets at the entrance with precision in her movements and attacks some who plan to hit her. Bob's eyes glance at the rest of the team as they manage to escape thanks to the distraction caused by the girl with green sparkles flashing from her fingers. However, he doesn't stop for more than five seconds just to check on the girl again. He wants to make sure she's okay, even if it's from behind the computer. Far away from the place where she is right now —just the thought of it makes his inner self freak out.

Something it's beginning to awake inside of him. Something he thought he had buried for his own good.

Or rather someone.

"Y/N, all done. Let's head to the car. I'll try to get to you right away," Bucky orders.

"No. It's okay, I got this," she chimes in stubbornly.

Bob shakes his head.

But before she can do so, a stray bullet hits her shoulder, destabilizing the girl.

"Fuck!" she complains, touching her shoulder.

"Y/N?" Bucky asks worriedly.

"Y/N!" Bob yells, watching as one of the guards hits her with her gun on the back of her head, causing the girl to fall unconscious to the ground.

That's it.

Bob rushes out of the tower's communications room and runs to the balcony, where he takes to the air with determination. He doesn't stop for a second, because time is precious, especially after seeing Y/N getting attacked. The only thing that keeps repeating in his mind is the visual image of the girl being injured, so he moves quickly through the air until he reaches the others. He had seen the coordinates and the area where they were, so it was easy for him to arrive in time.

Bob tries to find the place that the camera allowed him to watched the area in wich the girl was back at the tower, and when he finds it, he is surprised to find that one of the men responsible of attacking Y/N is carrying her unconscious body in his arms. Fury courses through his veins at the sight, and he rushes to stop the bastard. It's as if he's being consumed by darkness, a sensation he knows all too well.

As soon as he's in front of the guy, he stops him and without a second thought, tries to attack him, careful not to hit Y/N. The man looks at him in horror and carefully places the girl's body on the ground, then raises his hands in surrender.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know..." he stumbles, but all Bob sees is red.

He growls and begins to mercilessly beat the man's body, making him bleed, and doesn't stop until he's unconscious. Blow after blow, unleashing all the anger he felt at seeing how the bastard hurt the girl. He can still see her grimace of pain and how her body fell unconscious to the ground, helpless, and who knows what they might have done to her if he hadn't arrived in time.

"Please...." the man begs almost unconscious.

Bob doesn't hear him. He doesn't want to.

And Void doesn't want to too.

The rest of the team arrives at Y/N's location, only to see her lying on the ground with a scarlet stain forming on the shoulder of her suit, while Bob kills the man. Ava approaches the girl's body and makes sure she has a steady pulse, while John makes sure that no one appears and attacks them by surprise.

"Bob," Yelena warns and tries to approach him to make him see reason.

"No! He hurt her. No one can touch her, or hurt her!" he exclaims in a mixture of anger and darkness. "No one! You heard me? Fucking no one!"

The others stare at the scene and notice how Y/N wakes up and observes the state Bob is in. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she rushes over to him and wraps her arms around him from behind, resting her face on his.

"Bob, hey. It's okay," she murmurs in his ear, feeling the man begin to slow down the blows, so she tightens her grip on his body. "I'm okay. Everything will be okay."

Bob calms down and brings his now covered in blood hands to Y/N's arms, then turns his body and hugs her with all his strength, trying to cover her body to protect her just in case, and also feel her in his arms and make sure nothing happens to her anymore.

"You are hurt" he whispers in her ear.

"It's just a scratch. I'll be fine" Y/N says with a small smile on her lips.

"He hurt you. I couln't allow him to do it" he says in a broken voice.

Y/N looks at the rest of the team and smiles at them, letting them know she's okay. Kinda. Bucky sighs and shakes his head at the girl in that state, knowing she must be screaming from the pain of the bullet, while Alexei smiles sideways and tries to encourage her from a distance. The blonde russian girl mouths to her that she will get the car ready to go, to wich Y/N nods and indicates her to do so.

"We still have our date," she tells him, still standing with the brunette, glancing at the man's lifeless body.

Bob lets out a sigh and nods his head against Y/N's chest, agreeing with her.

"Our date," he says in a soft tone, relaxing at the touch of her fingers in his hair. Although he can't help but feel anger again when he smells the metallic scent coming from the girl's wound.

"Yeah. Are we still up to that?"

"Definitely" Bob answers and lets out a small laugh.

She smiles and then pulls away from him to look him in the eye. Those blue orbits who watch her with a spark on his eyes.

"So let's go home and have our date, okay?" Bob nods and then lowers his gaze to the girl's wound.

"First, we need to treat your wound," he says, pointing to the red stain on her suit.

"Would you help me with that?"

"You don't have to ask me twice."

They both stare at each other with a small smile on their faces, understanding how much they care for each other and would do anything to keep them safe and viceversa.

Especially Bob.

And as long as Y/N is in his arms, he'll be okay.

#fanfic #fluff #angst #bob reynolds x reader #marvel #thunderbolts #sentry masterlist #sentry x reader #the void x reader

2K notes · View notes

qardenofeden · 2 months ago

Text

ushijima wakatoshi wasn’t a man of pda, you knew that much. it’s not that he shied away from it per se, he just... was taught to value modesty.

and that’s exactly how you got here, sitting across from him as dishes upon dishes were served on your table. steamers of xiao long bao were placed before you as he paused from eating his hot garlic ribs to thank your server.

“wakatoshi, you ordered too much... it’s only our first date as a couple,” you say, concern furrowing your brows as you looked at the table.

“that is precisely why i ordered a lot. plus, i just finished a match and i’m quite hungry. i hope you don’t mind,” he deadpans before adding a meek, “is it not to your liking?”

...well, as meek as one ushijima wakatoshi can be, anyway.

you two had just come from one of his matches and to no one’s surprise, shiratorizawa won yet again. as a reward, you offered to grab dinner with him at his favorite foreign restaurant, but you seemed to have forgotten a major key detail— wakatoshi was used to living in luxury. you’ve never even heard of this place before, that’s how fancy and niche it was.

“no, no. it’s fine! it’s your celebration, after all,” you reassure him, hoping he doesn’t take notice of your... mood.

“our celebration,” he corrects. brown eyes hold your gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think you were in trouble. “you finally said yes to me after months of courtship. i apologize if my schedule has not allowed me to take you out on a proper date prior to this.”

was it getting hot in here? you feel like melting under his stare. why is he so naturally intimidating?

“it’s okay. i’ve been a little busy too with requirements and whatnot,” you shy away from his eyes and begin eating.

except... oh, you don’t like that.

the flavors are too much, and your mouth feels like it’s going to explode with how powerful the taste is. did you accidentally order from the spicy section?!

ushijima must have detected your slight internal panic, because he immediately asks, “is everything okay?”

you cough out, putting on a fake smile as you nod. “mhm, all good!”

“are you certain..? you look... flustered.”

god, there he was again. wakatoshi, you’re scaring me!! you mentally yell.

“...okay, i’ve never... been here before so i just ordered whatever i thought was the most basic option on the menu.” your eyes avoid his, feeling small before him. “sorry,” you feel like a loser. hopefully he doesn’t break up with you for this.

“ah. i wish you had said that sooner. i would have explained their food and helped you choose.”

wakatoshi eyes the table before wordlessly rearranging the sequence of the dishes. he takes your plate and moves the steamer of the xiao long baos in front of you, then gently places your original dish to the xlb’s previous spot. he takes off the lid and takes one dumpling for himself.

“these are soup dumplings. i picked your favorite meat, so you should have no problem eating them,” he bites his dumpling into half as the soup leaks out from the center and into his spoon. “see?”

you look at him, then down at the dumplings before taking one for yourself and mimicking his actions. “mmh...” you nod, “that’s actually pretty good.”

“do you mind if i eat your...”

you nod enthusiastically before he can even finish. “take it, take it. i love the dumplings. woah. can i have more?”

ushijima chuckles, his chest letting out guttural breaths as his lips curved into a smile. “of course. eat as much as you’d like.”

needless to say, you and wakatoshi will definitely be coming back. who knows, maybe it could even be the start of a tradition.

atsumu post-match &&& bokuto post-match

a/n: this is still post-match right... just not courtside-immediately-after-game post match. sry lol sigh ushijima what am i supposed to do w u my nonchalant king

2K notes · View notes

fuckin-sick-bih · 1 year ago

Text

i hate the days when i desperately want to write but nothing i like comes out of my attempts at writing :( (side note i do make the "just bex talkin" tag so you guys can block it and ignore my rambling in tags if you want my writing but not my bitching lmao)

#just bex talkin #part of the problem is i want to write EVERYTHING and nothing at the same time #like i wanna write that cute convenience store steddie idea + a million more steddie ideas #but i also wanna write hale and jessie #and i know people wanna read some fem snz but i'm really struggling with that #i don't even know how to describe the fears stopping me from writing fem snz atm #it's very social/gender related but it's also me probably making a problem where there isn't one? aka overthinking #would i love to write some fem snz or even introduce my lesbian characters? absolutely!#but i don't feel like it's my place? i don't want to anger/upset the lesbian community cuz what if my portrayal is inaccurate and terrible?#also how dare i (an AFAB very masc leaning individual) assume to know what it's like being a lesbian when i never identified as one?#roll the clip of someone yelling a slur at me when i was 14 just because he *thought* i was a lesbian #bottom line? i don't want to objectify an already very objectified community even tho the realistic chances of me doing so are pretty low #listen i just have a lot of anxiety and i don't wanna piss anyone off or upset anyone by accident #don't get me started on all the fears i have about my writing being TOO angsty when i'm really having fun with it either #seriously there's a super heavy steddie snz snippet i have written that i'd love to post but i'm worried it's waaaay too heavy #especially for tumblr #but that's also just because i'm not good at feeling out where the boundaries are for this kind of thing? idk... IDK!#like am i allowed to write angsty feels + snz? of course i am! but am i allowed to *post* it??? no fuckin idea #like even Golden Blessing has some good angst to it in the beginning (which i did get to writing a bit more of that)#there's some impostor syndrome going on feeling like nothing i'm writing is actually making sense or engaging in any way rn #should i take small prompts and just do tiny little scenes of snz?#i want to WRITE but... most of me trying to write rn is me starting an idea and feeling like none of what im writing makes sense #so i immediately abandon it #and i do not know how to break that feeling/sensation of whatever i'm writing is not *flowing* ergo its shit #maybe i'll just quietly post the angsty steddie to my ao3 and just... leave it to the wolves

1 note · View note

subrosasteath · 3 months ago

Text

Some Trans-coded moment I could find in Kai's episode because Pixar really did not let Disney stop them:

When Kai sees the softball team for the first time we get a close zoomed in shot on Taylor and Yuwen. This emphasizes two things: that the team is co-ed, and that there is a black girl on the team, someone Kai can relate to and maybe look up to in that I wish I looked like you kind of way

No one in Kai's family refers to to her by pronouns or descriptors like "my son" or "my daughter" until later, once she's already on the team.

The close up shot of the photo of Kai with a trophy has 3 other kids in frame, all of them looking like stereotypical boys. It's hinted at that the team Kai was playing on before was not co-ed, and so this would be an all boys team. This and a photo of Kai up to bat with short hair in a blue shirt are the photos she hides.

From the scene of them all cheering Kai's name at the beginning, I almost thought that was the first time it was said in the episode - it's not. The first time her dad says it in the car. Interesting!

Rest under the cut cause this is a fairly big post and also spoilers for the rest of Kai's episode!

The whole "but you were so good at baseball!" scene - just, you actually can't take the trans coding out of that scene if you tried. "Nothing can change the fact that I love you" . To break it down specifically, the line but you were so good at baseball feels similar to the idea of like "but you were fine as a boy!". It's the kind of statement that sounds like the question "why do you need to change?". This is continued in the next scene with the you liked baseball!, which can be read as a continuation of a worried parent "why do you need to change, i thought you liked yourself before?" they don't even pitch the same - "there are some serious changes here" I feel like read from a different angle it could also be about voices, and how sometimes how your voice sounds can be a source of dysphoria.

Kai wears pink socks for almost every scene she's in around her teammates i think? Blue crocs in the beginning, white socks in the "so you want to switch to uh softball?" scene, and then in the next scene she's in pink socks with a white stripe. The only scene in the episode with blue socks is after she hurts her ankle, when she's tell her dad "it's not a big deal" about the cheating.

Her hair getting longer, obviously <3 She's got a rainbow hairband she wears for the rest of the episode

The vaguely trans-flag looking lighting whenever Kai's floating

"We look so good! We look so good!!" "Hey girls, say pickles!" That scene just makes me happy. Kai has a place she feels right in, with friends and girls who age her accept her and want her around, she get's to be included in the "girls"!!! Like how sweet is this?

And the girl sleepover with all the team girls!!! It's so cute!

Her sinking into the ground powers are so cool. Like - nothing specifically "trans" about this, it just plays into what's already there, that Kai feels like she's either floating so high off the ground or totally stuck in it and how everything in her life feeds into that.

There's definitly more, like so many more, like maybe I'll add onto this post later kind of more, but I am so sleepy now, that I'm just going to post this for now!! Congrats to the writers at Pixar for pushing through even when Disney tried to shut them down. I know I really appreciate it.

#win or lose #kai win or lose #trans #trans pride #pixar did amazing with what they could in this episode and i love it <3

1K notes · View notes

httpuckdrop · 1 month ago

Text

patience – ws2

the three times it was supposed to happen, and the one time it did.

alternatively: realizing will was worth waiting for.

pairing: will smith x reader

genre: smut, fluff, college!au

word count: 6.5k

warnings: first time together, protected sex... no major warnings

author's note: in celebration of my baby very likely being in my home town right now, i decided to finally post this! my will smut ive been working on for ages (since 3rd of march) !!! so excited to finally be done and post it. hope you enjoy reading it <3 (also someone pls come give me a hug bcs usa is playing here tomorrow but i have an mri scan at that exact time so i cant go see him 💔 truly heartbreaking)

18+ content below, minors dni !!

there's a certain intent in the way will kisses you; a certain hunger, a certain need. it's obvious in the way his fingers trace along your skin beneath your shirt, the way his crotch instinctively rolls down against yours, the sounds he lets out. it's hard not to mistake – he wants you, and you'll gladly give him everything he wishes for.

the truth is, though, that you've not yet had sex with will, despite going out for several months. you have discussed it before, but not in too many details; mostly in words along the lines of 'it'll happen when it's time' and 'we're in no rush'. neither of you lives alone, and there's always something coming in between – a hockey game, an exam, a roommate throwing a stupid party – so it's rare for you to find a time and place that fits your desires and needs.

you and him aren't virgins, yet you aren't the most experienced either, so you've still felt a certain excitement when imagining your first time with him. and at this moment, when will's fingers begin to reach for the front of your jeans, the anticipation swells – multiplies, even – as if your entire body is holding its breath.

your dorm room is quiet, save for the low volume of the long forgotten movie playing on your laptop by the foot of your bed. the space is filled with a scent will recognizes as a mix of your favorite scented candles from that little indie store a few blocks away from campus. he parts from your lips and begins trailing kisses down your jaw as his thumb and pointer finger tease your zipper, before finally pulling it down and popping the button. "is... are you..." his breath tickles your skin as he speaks, mouth having moved to the front of your throat. "is this okay?"

you merely nod, eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his fingers trailing along the waistband of your panties, before remembering that he can't see. "y-yes," you let out, the word breathy on your tongue. will nuzzles his nose against the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, two fingers moving even further down.

"thought so," he says with a chuckle. "you're so wet that i can feel it through the fabric..." he trails his fingers along your slit over your panties, and a shudder passes through your body. "assumed i was doing something right."

"what can i say? you're a good kisser." your hands reach for his shoulders, holding onto them tightly as your head tips back with pleasure when he finally slips past the fabric, finding his way through the folds as if an expert on your body. "we should be quiet, though... daisy is in her room, and..."

will doesn't need to hear more. although he's sure that overhearing some muffled moans won't be the worst thing your dormmate will ever go through, he understands why you would find it awkward to run into your friend if she knew what happened behind your closed doors.

however, it doesn't affect the way he brushes his thumb against your clit, or bites down right above your collarbone, or-

suddenly, someone calls out your name. someone who isn't will.

as if daisy heard you mention her name, she has now found her way to your door, the sound of gentle knocks meeting your ear. "are you almost ready?" she asks, and you frown instinctively.

"ready for what?" you say back, one hand reaching to pull will's head from your skin to halt him.

"for the meeting at the student union." a memory flashes before your eyes. "you said you'd go with me, remember?"

you do remember. you and daisy planned this weeks ago; she really wants to engage in some boring agenda and planning stuff at the student union, but feels too shy to go to these things alone. so, as the good friend you are, you'd promised to tag along to support her.

of course the meeting is tonight, the first time will had gotten into your pants – even if it was just a finger or two.

"right," you say, clearing your throat and letting your gaze meet will's. "i'll be ready in just a few."

the guilt in your eyes is sincere, and will sees it. he accepts the apology you offer him and unwillingly removes his hand from you. "another time?" he asks, straightening up on the bed and allowing you to push yourself to sit next to him.

"another time," you assure him.

"well," he starts, and he's wearing a mischievous grin that you can't quite figure out yet. "until next time..." and then he lifts his fingers to his mouth, pushing them past his lips, and licking himself clear of your juices.

"you're going to be the death of me, you know that?"

you had understood the meaning behind will's call the second he uttered those magical words.

"i'm at the apartment and gabe's not here… maybe you could come over and chill?"

and that's how you find yourself here, on the couch of an off-campus apartment, making out with your boyfriend. fridays are the only days of the week when you don't have any classes, so you'd just been lounging around your apartment and studying when will called, meaning that you just threw on the first things you could find before hurrying off to his place.

it hadn't taken long for the two of you to get settled on the couch in his living room with some random show playing on the tv. just sitting next to him felt too far away, so you climbed into his lap – though, to no surprise of will's, with your back facing the tv. he knew you weren't going to be focusing on the show for much longer anyway.

your lips are already swollen from the kissing, but you can't get enough. his cologne mixes with his natural scent and it's too unbearable, making you just want to swallow him whole. his hands have since long wandered down to your hips, but when they slip beneath your skirt and land on your cheeks, your breath hitches in your throat. he gives your ass a firm squeeze, resulting in you pressing your crotch down against his. there's only the thin material of your underwear separating you from his jeans, and the friction feels far too good to be true.

will takes note of the sounds you're letting out, the little whimpers and weak moans, and keeps on pressing you forward, rolling your hips over his. he bites down on your bottom lip, before soothing the sting with a lick of his tongue and pulling back slightly. "you're-" he cuts himself off to clear his throat, clearly affected by the way you gaze down at him. "you're a fucking dream, did you know that?"

your hand reaches up to brush away a stray curl from his forehead, before raking through his blonde hair. "could say the same thing about you," you tell him, leaning in to briefly brush your lips against his again. "shouldn't we at least go to your room, though?"

will shakes his head, nudging your nose with his. "gabe has classes until four on fridays."

he kisses you with the same type of intensity, as if you'd never even parted. his arms encircle your waist, pulling you flush against him as your other hand makes its way to the back of his head too. when he tilts his head and deepens the kiss, you can't stop your fingers from pulling on his hair – which draws out an unexpected sound from his throat.

you pull back slightly, eyebrows raised. "oh, you have a thing for that?"

"for what?"

"hair pulling," you chuckle.

"dunno what you're talking abou-" his words get cut off when he feels you repeating your actions, fingers getting lost in his curls and pulling so heavenly. his eyes flutter closed, and you can't help but giggle, instead draping your arms around the back of his neck and leaning in even closer.

"it's cute," you tell him, peppering a thousand quick kisses all over his cheek and jaw before letting your hands wander down to the front of his body. "and it's now noted for future use."

as your fingers begin working on the buttons of his shirt, he presses his lips to your neck, licking and nibbling at every inch of skin he can reach. his own hands sneak under your sweatshirt, sliding up your sides and tracing his thumbs along your ribs, before going even further and-

"are you serious?" he asks, biting down on your skin right below your ear as if physically scolding you. "you're really not wearing a bra?"

a jolt of electricity shoots down your spine when his cold hands cup your bare breasts, and you sigh. "i, um... wasn't wearing one when you called," you explain. it's hard to find the right words when he skims his calloused fingertips over your already hardened nipples, making all your thoughts clouded. "didn't bother putting one on... since i was in a rush..."

the feeling of your round, perky tits in his hands is something he could die for, will thinks; this moment right here tops anything he's been through before. combined with the feeling of your nails scratching their way down his now revealed chest, it's equal to heaven.

it all feels so hasty and messy, and maybe it isn't the most romantic of ways to do this, but you two are too eager to care – you just want each other, no matter how.

he's just about to help you get him out of the shirt when suddenly, a sound breaks through his hazy mind. the apartment door crashes shut, and you both freeze in your tracks. "will? man, you'll never guess what-"

gabe perreault, will's best friend, teammate and roommate, suddenly stands in the doorway to the living room. you hold your breath, as if that will make him disappear and undo this entire scene, and will's hands drop to your hips, where you can clearly feel his fingers tense up.

either gabe is blatantly stupid, or else he has seen way worse things in life and just doesn't care – because he just smiles at you and struts into the room. "hi there," he greets you. "didn't know you were coming over. but the more the merrier, right?" you shoot will an alarmed look once gabe settles next to you both on the couch, and your boyfriend looks just as surprised as you. "what are we watching?"

the next time you and will have time to get into a similar situation is over a week later. it's saturday, and the eagles have just won against harvard, which most of the team is out celebrating – but not will. not when daisy is staying over at her boyfriend's place and has left the dorm just for you.

will has no time for celebrating when there's a real chance that he'll get to spend the night inside his girlfriend.

the two of you had this night planned for several days, and you always assumed you'd be lip-locked from the get-go and then get down to business instantly. but on the contrary, the night started off quite slowly; with a movie playing on your laptop yet again, with you cuddled up to his side and his arm draped across your shoulders, and with you both sneaking little innocent kisses from each other every once in a while. since the game, you'd both gotten changed into more comfortable clothes – him in a white shirt and pair of gray sweatpants, you in cotton shorts and a bc hoodie – and the general vibe of it all is lighthearted and cozy, which is not what you had expected.

eventually, though, will's free hand finds your knee, and while the touches start off innocent, it doesn't take long before his fingers begin wandering up your thigh. his head tilts down so that he can press his lips against your cheek, and then your jaw, and then your neck. you sigh when he sucks on a spot under your ear, and his thumb slips past the hem of your shorts to stroke along the inside of your thighs.

with the way your eyelids have fluttered shut and your body is fully relaxed, it's easy for will to tell that the movie is none of your concern anymore. he still makes a point of retracting from you and sitting up more properly, one hand grabbing your laptop. "okay if i shut this off?" he says, but it's not really what he's asking for. are we really doing this? are you okay with this?

you just nod hastily, hands reaching out to him. "yeah, yeah. just come here," you answer, smiling as he pushes your laptop closed and places it on your bedside table before crawling over you. loud and clear.

the first brush of lips is tentative yet completely electrifying. it sets your whole body on fire, and the way one of his hands lands on your jaw, his thumb drawing circles onto your cheek, doesn't exactly tame the flames. it's much more gentle than when you were sitting on will's couch just over a week ago – the slow kisses and unspoken want making your chest ache – yet, there's still a strong sense of neediness behind it.

his shirt comes off in just a second, and then follows your hoodie, leaving you in just a lacy, black camisole that does a pretty poor job of hiding what's going on underneath it. he can't hold back from reaching down to pinch your nipple through the fabric of your top, loving the way you squirm and whine. "so needy already?" he asks, humming at the way your hands grab at his shoulders.

"always needy for you," you hum, tipping your head back as he presses a gentle kiss to the front of your throat, feeling your pulse beneath your skin. he then moves up to lock his lips with yours again. he kisses you feverishly, tingles spreading through your body when his tongue meets yours. his fingers dip inside your top, refusing to neglect any inch of your skin as if memorizing every dip and curve of your body. the combination of him kneading your breasts and licking lazily into your mouth leaves you breathless in just seconds, and yet you honestly think you could stay like this forever.

still, you find yourself pushing at his shoulders and forcing him to lie down instead. at first, he's a little confused, but when you begin to climb on top of him, he obliges happily – having you boss him around like this is insanely hot, and he makes a mental note to repeat this in the future.

you straddle his thighs, leaning forward to trace a finger along the rough ridges of his toned chest. will clasps his fingers together behind his head, letting out a contented sigh as he watches you move down his body. you attach your lips to his skin next, and his breath hitches in his throat. he never could've dreamed about having such a pretty angel kiss her way down his body.

your fingers undo his zipper quickly and will helps you pull his pants down his hips, revealing the tent in his boxers. a chuckle slips from your lips. "so needy already?" you parrot, hands reaching down to brush against his shaft through the fabric. he's so desperate that he twitches even from the slightest of touches, and you almost feel bad for him when you hear the sound that rumbles in his throat. one hand slips past the hem of his underwear, pumping him a few times before rubbing his tip with your thumb and spreading his precum along his hardness. "you're bigger than i thought."

"is that a compliment or an insult?" he says around a moan, hips bucking slightly to try to seek your touch.

"definitely a compliment." you pull his dick free of its confinement, before slipping out of your shorts and throwing them to some random corner of the room. "i knew you'd be big, but... you're much thicker than i imagined."

"god, you can't just say something like that-" he visibly shudders when you lean down to press a kiss to his tip, and then a few more down the underside of him. you're practically itching to taste him, to feel his weight on your tongue, but then you sit up a little straighter again, deciding on something else; you settle on his crotch again, hips rolling down against him.

there's now only one soaked layer of fabric separating will from where he craves to be, and it's killing you just as much as him. his fingers dig into your sides, helping you find a good rhythm as you both grow increasingly impatient. you throw your head back, whining a little too loudly, and you can't take it anymore. "top- top drawer," you choke out, and will understands instantly, reaching out to grab a condom from your bedside table.

he throws it down to you, and letting you rip the packaging open and roll it down his cock. this is it, you think to yourself. god, i really hope this is it. please let this be it-

a signal fills the room. "don't tell me that's..." but yes, it is; will picks up his phone from the other side of the bed, holding it up to reveal that it's his mother calling. and to your greatest dismay, he answers the call. will, ever the mama's boy, has apparently never missed a call from his mother.

he's seemingly also never been able to read a room – or what it means when someone glares and shakes their head at him.

"hey, mom," he says, head flopping down against the pillow. "yeah, the game went well- oh, you streamed it?"

you sit there stunned. is this really happening? were you really just about to have sex with your boyfriend for the first time, but got interrupted by his mom? should you climb off him, leave him alone in the room, jump out the window from the fourth floor?

as if able to read your thoughts, one of his hands lands on your hip again, thumb rubbing along your hipbone reassuringly as his gaze meets yours. he looks apologetic and guilty, but it doesn't quite take away from the disappointment you feel. "mhm, gabe's shot there was amazing... i know, it was unnecessary for me to take that penalty, i didn't mean to..."

a tiny part of you wants to tease him a little, to kiss your way around his shaft, to see him stutter and hang up already – but he's far too good and he doesn't deserve it. he seems to really feel bad over what he did, as if he acted on impulse and regretted his actions instantly.

when he finally hangs up, he throws his phone to the side and drags a hand down his face. "so... your mom?" you ask hesitantly.

he nods. "i completely ruined the mood, didn't i?" he says with a weak chuckle.

"it doesn't have to," you reassure him, leaning down to stroke your hands down his chest, but he shakes his head and looks down at his crotch.

"too late." it wasn't a very long call with his mother, but there's not even the faintest trace of a boner left. of course. "she killed him."

you sigh and flop down to his side, squeezing your eyes shut. "are we ever actually going to go through with this?" you ask after a few moments of silence. "maybe the fact that we keep getting interrupted is... a sign from the universe or something. we're doomed."

"stop, don't say that." will tilts his head to the side, nose brushing against your cheek. "i think it just makes the anticipation stronger, you know? when it finally happens..." he presses a kiss to your skin. "it'll be worth it."

you sure hope so.

wear something sexy, picking you up in 20. x

the text is simple, but more than enough to leave a dull ache in your core. your thoughts wander too far before you can control them and remind yourself not to jump to any conclusions. this has happened before, you tell yourself; just because you're going to will's apartment doesn't mean gabe won't be there, and it doesn't mean that will or you will automatically be in the mood-

except, you both obviously will be. this sexual tension has been going on for far too long now, and it's been practically impossible to ignore. even just sitting next to each other in the dining hall, or walking down campus together, has been impossible; you've both been wanting to just put your hands on each other already, honestly itching to sneak away into an empty classroom and just get over with it already.

but you'd agreed. you wanted the first time to be proper and special. so, although it was impatiently, you had waited.

just "wearing something sexy" is not as easy as it sounds when you have all of the expectations in the world on your shoulders. granted, you put them there yourself – will probably would've found you just as sexy if you wore a potato sack – but they were still there. you eventually settled on picking out a fancy set of lingerie, deciding that they would be the main attraction anyway, and whatever shirt and pants you wore would hopefully just be discarded sooner rather than later.

there must be a certain spring in your step, because daisy gives you a knowing look once you leave your room and make your way into your shared living room. "you seeing will tonight?" she asks, and you can't help but nod eagerly. "well... i probably don't have to tell you this, but... be safe, okay?"

"of course," you tell her, shooting her a smile just as the doorbell rings. after strutting over to the door and opening it, you throw yourself into your boyfriend's arms instantly. he answers with a huff of laughter and a tight hug.

"you ready to go?" will asks and you nod, hand finding his before turning back to daisy and waving to her.

"don't wait up!" you say, and she shakes her head, grin on her lips.

"of course not."

the ride to will's place is quick, his hand never leaving your knee for even a second. he unlocks the door, holding it open for you, and something feels off about the way the entire apartment is dark – except for a trail of little tealights marking a path to will's bedroom. "where is gabe?" you ask, taking a few wary steps into the space. you're suddenly hit by nerves and the reality of what's going on, though trying your best not to show it.

will shuts the door behind you both, stepping out of his shoes before bending down to undo the laces of yours. "he's with some girl," he answers vaguely, and you give him a pointed look once he's helped you out of your shoes and stood up again.

"coming home when?"

will shakes his head, and the smile on his lips makes you feel relieved instantly. "never. i paid him to sleep somewhere, anywhere, else."

you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down to your height. "you're the best," you mumble against his lips before kissing him.

"you just wait." he gives you one last kiss before pulling away, one hand on your lower back guiding you towards his bedroom.

once he pushes his door open, you gasp at the sight. candles everywhere – pillars, tapers, tealights, in all kinds of colors and sizes – and as if that wasn't romantic enough, there are a bunch of rose petals spread on top of his comforter. will shoots you a slight smile once you turn to him, seemingly a little unsure if you like it or if he's overdone it, and your heart flutters in your chest. "this is... lovely. you did all this? for me?"

he nods once, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

"seems like a bit of a fire hazard to me," you joke, though it's not completely unserious – but you suppose it would also be quite romantic to pass away because you were too busy making love to notice that the room was on fire.

will just shrugs. "everywhere i go with you puts me at risk of fire since you're so hot."

you give his shoulder a playful shove, but he barely reacts. he stands there, just watching you, so you decide to take matters into your own hands.

you reach for the hem of your shirt, only then noticing that your fingers are trembling slightly – when did that happen? you've been dreaming about this moment for weeks, and now you're suddenly anxious? this is no time to be timid, you tell yourself, so you continue with your plans, slipping the shirt over your head. you drop it to the ground, making sure there are no candles right there, before pulling your jeans off your body as well.

left in just the white, lacy lingerie you'd so carefully picked out, you feel more revealed and seen than ever – it doesn't help that will still hasn't said anything or reacted, either – but you can't turn back now. so you take both of his hands in yours, walking backwards until the back of your legs hit his bed, and you sit down.

"will?" you ask, following the way his eyes slowly move up and down your skin. "where is your mind at?"

he takes a deep breath, gaze finding yours. "can i be honest?" you nod. "i'm... a little nervous."

his sincerity makes your heart flutter. "so am i."

"do you still want to... go through with this?"

you give his hands a squeeze. "more than anything." will seems satisfied by your answer, because he helps you lie down properly against the pillows and then climbs on top of you.

his kisses aren't tentative per se, but they aren't as eager as they were last time you were in this position. it takes a while to warm up before you're both panting against each other's lips, tongues tangling and hands wandering. not that you're in any rush; will wants to take his time with you.

he leaves a trail of wet kisses down your jaw, and then your neck, and then along one of your collarbones. he eventually pushes himself up to sit, legs caging you in. "i forgot something," he says and you slate your head as an answer. "forgot to say how gorgeous you look."

you reach up to give his face a playful slap, but he grabs your wrist.

"i'm serious. you look... straight out of a fairy tale." then, he grimaces. "okay, maybe more like a porno. not the kind of fairy tale i'd show to a child, anyway."

"god, you're awful," you complain, but before you can say anything else, will's free hand has slipped behind your body, sending you a questioning look which you answer with a nod.

he gets the clasp of your bra undone – albeit a bit clumsily with just one hand – and helps the material slide off your arms. his gaze is even more intense now, staring at you like you're something he's been dreaming about for ages. you're just about to give in to the urge to cover yourself up when his mouth returns where it had left off, teeth nibbling and lips sucking on the soft skin of your chest. "thought it couldn't get better," he mumbles, though not stopping his actions for even a second, leaving no inch untouched. he's like a starved man, and it's hard to remember that this exact boy was careful about even touching you a few minutes ago. "but it got a lot better. fuck, you're so hot."

"it's kinda unfair, though," you say, shrugging – or, as much of a shrug as you can manage when you've got a golden retriever man pressing a circle of soft kisses around your nipple. "that you get to see all this, and you're a hockey player with abs and amazing chest muscles, and yet you've still got your shirt on and-"

he doesn't need to hear any more, instantly sitting back on his heels and getting out of his shirt. the material falls to the floor, but he wastes no time before his face is stuffed into your skin again. when his lips wander south, finding the edge of your panties, one hand finds your side, caressing your bare skin. "can i make you feel good?" he asks, hooking a finger of his free hand under the waistband. "is that okay?"

"yeah, just-" you sigh when he pulls the fabric down and off your legs, the cold air against your revealed gender sending a shiver up your spine. "just… hurry, will you?"

will settles between your thighs, his sweet laughter sounding like music to your ears. as his lips find the inside of your thigh, he lets the hand that was on your waist travel south. the first touch of his thumb against your clit makes your hips jerk, as if you've been anticipating this for years. "patient, baby," he chuckles, nose rubbing the space where your leg meets your hips. "we've got all the time in the world."

after drawing tantalizingly slow circles onto your bud for a while, adoring the way you squirm under his touch, he finally moves lower. he collects your wetness on his fingertips before letting one slender finger slide into your core. everything about will is big – he's tall, he's got big muscles and broad shoulders – so it shouldn't be any surprise that his fingers carry some length, too. and yet, it does surprise you. when another finger enters your warmth, he reaches further in than you'd expected, and the stretch when he spreads his fingers feels far too good for just a pair of fingers.

his tongue licks a few stripes up and down your slit while his fingers keep on pumping in and out of you, before his lips settle back on your clit. the combination of sucking, lapping and circling makes your head spin in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and your hands fly down to the back of his head.

"will-" you let out, fingers tangling in his soft blonde curls. "i'm- i'm really close-"

he merely hums as an answer, keeping up his actions until he has you falling apart on his tongue. his chest fills with pride at the feeling of your body convulsing as you reach your high, and the whines mixed with swearwords you let out make him want to stay right here all night. what else could he possibly need in life?

once your breathing has returned to somewhat normal, and you're no longer tugging on his hair so hard he thinks it might fall out, will retracts his face from between your legs and looks up at you. he finds you blinking down at him with just as much lust and love as he's feeling, and warmth spreads through his body.

"you okay up there?" he asks, fingers dancing along your stomach as he leans further up to face you again.

you respond with a hum, hands reaching down to his jeans and beginning to undo his belt. "my turn to make you feel good."

will stops you, fingers wrapping around your wrists. "it's okay," he says with a shake of his head.

you frown. "i wanna get my lips on you, though," you fight back.

"you'll have plenty of time to do that another time." just as you're about to bicker back again, he cups your cheek in his hand and continues. "going down on you was enough for me. honestly, i was seconds away from coming in my own pants just from your taste and sounds." he tilts your head down, letting your gaze wander to his crotch. "see? i'm not even kidding, i'm so hard it's extremely painful."

"just get out of your clothes, then, will you?"

he stands up in less than a second, not even bothering to pull his belt completely out, instead opting for just dragging his jeans and boxers off as quickly as possible. he snatches a condom from his bedside table, pulling the wrapper off and rolling the latex down his length hastily.

"are you sure your phone is off?" you ask when he settles over you again. "you don't have a facetime call scheduled with your mother?"

"god, shut up," he mutters, leaning down to crash his mouth against yours. he bites down on your bottom lip after a few moments, before parting slightly. "don't even mention her, she doesn't exist right now…"

he swallows your giggles, his hands grabbing your hips to angle them properly before parting your legs. "i'm sorry," you tell him, fingers brushing away some of the curls that had fallen into his eyes. "just wanted to make sure no one's going to interrupt."

"i won't let them." will takes a deep breath, sighing softly at the sight of you beneath him; so bare, vulnerable, open; all ready for him. his tip nudges your core. "is this okay? can i…?"

your words fail you, so you nod, tensing up slightly in anticipation. will's gentle kisses to your temple and soft touches along your ribs help soothe you, and soon enough, he starts pushing into you.

ever since you felt his girth in your hands that night in your bedroom, you've been trying to prepare yourself; attempting to remember just how big he was, imagining how he would feel inside you, how the stretch would be... and yet, none of it prepared yourself for this moment right here.

you'd remarked about how big he looked, but he feels much bigger. even after him fingering you, it's like he's splitting you open, and it's taking everything you have not to scream your lungs out. instead, you take it out on his back, letting your nails dig into his muscles hard enough to leave marks – you probably will feel guilty over it later, but right now, your every nerve ending is on fire, so your care is elsewhere.

even with the stretch, though, it feels amazing. maybe it's because of the stretch, or maybe it's just a side character, but something about just feeling him inside you like this is beyond anything you've felt before.

after allowing you to catch your breath for a few moments, will presses his lips to your forehead. "can i move?" he whispers. "or do you need a minute?"

you shake your head. "go ahead," you let out, words half a moan and half a whine.

you feel empty instantly when he pulls out of you, but he makes up for that when he thrusts back into you again. he sets a pace, slow but powerful, and it's easy for you to get used to. his cock drags along your insides to deliciously, having no issues hitting that spot deep inside of you that has you arching your back and pressing your chest up against his.

"you're so-" will groans mid-sentence, nearly losing his mind already. "so tight. feel so fucking good-" he has to really control himself to not shoot his load instantly; to him, it feels like you've had several weeks of foreplay and it all led up to this moment. he's extremely sensitive already, and the way your walls keep on throbbing around him doesn't exactly make him less needy, either.

as his lips find one of your breasts, tongue flicking over your nipple again and again, his hand pulls your knee up to hook it around his hip. the new position allows him more depth and another spot to hit. as if you hadn't already felt so good it was almost painful, the new angle sends a jolt of pleasure through your body every time he pushes inside you. and when his thumb finds your clit again, you're unable to hold back the high-pitched whine that errupts from your throat.

will's brain short-circuited long ago, but at the realization of how good he's making you feel – so good that you're unable to hold back from shaking beneath him and letting out those sweet sounds he's sure he'll come to be obsessed with – he nearly loses it in a second.

"are you anywhere close?" he asks, and your answer comes in the form of yet another trail of nail marks down his back muscles. "because- shit, i'm about to-"

your climax crashes over you before you can react, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him. when your walls clench around him, he has no way of holding back, either. he lets go completely, and the hottest moan you've ever heard leaves his lips as he rides out both of your highs. he then collapses on top of you, but his weight isn't crushing; despite his muscular, hockey player build, it feels grounding to have him so close. to feel his heartbeat thud against your chest, to hear his warm pants right by your ear, to smell his laundry detergent from his covers…

"you feel…" he starts after a few moments of silence, voice a mere breathless whisper, before pushing himself up on his elbows to look down at you. "so, so good."

"you're not too bad yourself," you answer with a weak chuckle, shaking your head.

you reach up with one hand to brush away a few sweaty curls that had stuck to his forehead, before allowing it to cup his cheek in your palm. "i'll go get something to clean you up, okay?"

your nod is answered with a soft kiss pressed to your lips. when will slowly pulls himself out of you, it leaves you with a feeling of emptiness and longing – but the thought of getting to do this all over again makes it a lot better. "hey, will?" you ask just as he rises from the bed.

he looks back at you with eyebrows raised, a gentle flush still prominent on his cheeks.

"i'm glad we ignored the universe."

his expression softened. "never been happier."

608 notes · View notes

puppysuh · 24 days ago

Text

so… we all know how i feel about meanie!haechan, but what about nerd!haechan who’s never seen or touched a pussy in his life but is surprisingly really freaky?

if you’re wondering why i’m so obsessed with him, just watch a couple of clips of him from the university festival performance. those glasses… ouh get him in me NOW!

you approach him because you feel bad for him. he’s always alone, nose in a book or fingers tapping rapidly at his laptop, and whilst your girlfriends like to make fun of him for being such a loser, you’re surprisingly quite intrigued by him.

when you approach him the first time, you begin to see what your friends mean. he’s shy, his glasses falling down his nose as he avoids eye contact with you like the plague. he’s right to be cautious; what are you, the campus sweetheart, doing talking to him, the guy who’s rumoured to only shower once a week and lock himself in his room to jerk off to cheap porn?

you should be laughing in his face, ridiculing him for being such a freak of nature but no, instead you stand in front of him, voice sweet like honey whilst you twirl your hair and await his responses with bated breath. and when he finally looks up at you, into those beautiful eyes he spent so long avoiding, he’s completely gone, and he decides that he must have you.

nerd!haechan would overthink your interaction for the next week. seriously, why were you talking to him? did you like him? did you want to get to know him better? or worse… did you just want sex? that’s what most people are after nowadays anyways, so he begins to train himself up for the next time he talks to you.

instead of avoiding your group like a disease, he begins following you discreetly, taking note of everything you like. that coffee shop just opposite your dorm? he’s memorised your order. your seat in the library? he scares off anyone who tries to sit there by sitting directly opposite it, only moving when he sees you come through the door. and he’s stalked your social media too; all of your highlights are screenshotted and placed into a special album in his phone, reserved solely for you.

he also has another album, a hidden one, full of… other photos.

at first glance, it looks normal. a picture of you at the beach holding an ice cream, or another of you posing in a party dress. all standard highlight posts, posts nobody would suspect nerd!haechan would jerk off to almost every night, glasses fogged up as he memorises every curve of your body, toes curling as he focuses on the way your tongue flicks out to lick the top of the ice cream, a dribble of white cream running down your chin.

he doesn’t know how he manages to face you at school, but he does anyways, and when you finally ask him for some ‘tutoring’, he happily accepts, pushing his glasses up on his nose and trying to divert his eyes away from the cleavage displayed by your dangerously low cut top.

he’s surprised how quickly you jump on him the moment you get through the door of his apartment. you probably think you’ve caught him off guard, slamming your lips into his and grinding your hips forward against his crotch. you think you’re doing charity work, fucking the college loser so nobody else has to.

you couldn’t have been more wrong.

you see, along with his extensive jerking sessions to your instagram posts, haechan has been doing some studying, and not the academic kind. he knows how to make you feel good despite never having a chance to, and when he lifts you up against the door and presses your back flat against it, you’re nothing short of shocked.

“you thought i didn’t know?” his voice is quiet, and whilst his tone carries little to no conviction, it travels straight to your core. “i’m your little passion project, right? fucking the loser so you can feel less bad about yourself.”

before you can open your mouth to answer, he’s pushing his hips upwards into your clothed core, and any protests are replaced by a soft whine. “haechan, that’s not—”

“shut. up.” he thrusts forwards again, and the back of your head meets wood, arms wrapping around his neck as shocks of pleasure roll up your spine. “i’m not some fucking charity case.”

it’s safe to say he’s rendered you speechless. you look down at him, and where before you saw an unkempt loser, now you see someone hungry with lust, and you like it. “kiss me,” you breathe, and he complies, his mouth crashing into yours as he carries you across his living room.

you’d always wondered if he would keep his glasses on during sex, and that night, you got your answer. they slide down the bridge of his nose as his rams his cock into your cunt at a dizzying rhythm, one hand clasping your wrists together above your head, the other rubbing at your clit furiously.

“say you were wrong,” he grunts, sounding almost pained as he repeatedly bumps the tip of his cock into that spot that makes you squirm. “say i’m good, better than anyone you’ve ever had.”

“you’re s-so good!” you can barely speak— barely even breathe, not with the way his hand moves from your clit and to your throat, forcing your chin upwards to look at him. “f-fuck, ‘m sorry, haechan.”

and for the first time since you met him, he smiles a genuine smile, one that almost seems deranged, obsessive. “that’s right,” he says, “the best you’ll ever have.”

a/n : i’m so obsessed with the idea of him being borderline evil its insane. please feed me more haechan delusions guys i think i might love him 💔💔

edit : I MADE A PART 2 check it out if you love me (or nerds)

#★ puppysuh presents .ᐟ #★ neoposting .ᐟ #nct #nct haechan #nct smut #nct x reader #nct haechan x reader #nct haechan smut #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 smut #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream smut #kpop #kpop smut #kpop x reader

724 notes · View notes

reminiscingthesea · 4 days ago

Text

Part two of my stalker Phainon x nerdy reader fic!! You should be able to find part one just under this post!!

A/N- tysm again for the massive support and love on my last post, it’s honestly making me feel rlly happy and I’m genuinely considering making this a chapter by chapter fanfic (no promises tho idk what life may throw at me)

Synopsis- After establishing a friendship with you, Phainon simply can’t help but fall deeper in love with you. Yet, when an unknown variable- a pest- invades his peace, he feels as though things may take a dangerous turn for the worse.

Warning- Stalking, mentions of extreme violence towards another character, kidnapping, gore.

Ever since you and Phainon became friends, the two of you would always be texting each other nonstop! Talking about silly things like teachers, cute videos, random drama, and also more in depth things, such as your shared interest of historical relics.

Because of this, the two of you would often set up dates hang out days to take each other to a local museum to research ancient relics or texts. Other days, when the two of you are both free, you’d each be cooped up in a corner of the campus’ library, reading literature and talking to each other with enthusiasm when an interesting point was reached. Albeit, not without the sound of angry shushing from the old, cranky librarian at the front desk. She could really hear everything..

However, when you reject Phainon on a day out to a relic site-seeing place, he feels confused, upset, dejected, but most of all, angry. Very angry, especially after finding out why you weren’t available.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Phainon. But I won’t be able to join you tomorrow on our little weekly day out. I have plans with someone called Mydei? You know him, right?” You spoke nonchalantly, flashing him a quick, apologetic smile as you watched him momentarily deflate at your initial rejection, before turning away just as quickly, not able to see his face morph into a look of wrath once you mentioned that name.

He stayed silent for a few moments, before beginning silently. His tone sharp and cold as he spoke, “Yeah, I happen to know who he is. Mydeimos, son of Gorgo or something. He’s a recent transfer student, isn’t he? What’s he hanging around you for?” He asked as calmly as he could, to mask his voice of envy and irritation behind his cool demeanour.

“Oh, uh.. yeah he is. He’s not very popular right now, so I was assigned to be his little study-buddy for the time being, sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. It’s a bit stupid how they thought placing a quiet kid with another quiet kid was a good idea, but….” You rambled on about your school’s inadequacy or whatever, blissfully unaware that Phainon was indeed not paying any attention whatsoever, and instead, focusing on the numerous thoughts flying through his mind at 360mph.

‘Has she gotten bored of me now?’ ‘What does this Mydei have that I don’t?’ ‘I bet he’s really fucking ugly, he’s probably just a charity case in her eyes.’ ‘Who does this Mydei guy think he is?’ ‘Is he asking for a death wish?’ ‘Maybe I should slice him up into pieces, and serve his meat as meatballs for her-‘

Just as Phainon’s internal turmoil reached its peak, a quiet clear of the throat could be heard from behind the two of you.

“Oh, hello, [Name]. I was told you’d be here, should we get going?” A voice spoke. The pair of you, Phainon and yourself, turned around to the sound of the voice. You smiled brightly at the sight, waving at the guy with your hand. Phainon on the other hand, stood still in shock as he took in the other man’s appearance.

“Ah, Mydei! Hello! I was just finishing up with my friend here, Phainon. We can get going soon, I just need to fix something on my phone. The two of you can chat for a bit before I’m done!” You chirped happily, stepping to the side to fix whatever glitch was on your phone now. Shitty campus signal was really no joke.

Bulky, muscular, slight tan, short, golden wispy hair with slight red ends, enchanting golden eyes, not to mention, ridiculously tall, almost taller than Phainon.. he seemed to be a good contender for your love.

“..Are you just gonna keep staring at me or what? It makes you seem odd, y’know?” Spoke Mydei, his voice deep and rich, with a slight edge of aggressiveness to it. Stunning Phainon out his stupor, he laughed quietly and bowed a bit apologetically.

“Ah, I apologise, Mydei. I was just thinking about something, nothing more.” Flashing Mydei a quick, sweet smile, he was met with a questioning, curious look, that could almost be comparable to a glare. Phainon swore he could see a flicker of understanding and awareness through Mydei’s daybreak orbs for a split second as they darkened slightly, before a soft sigh could be heard from you in the distance.

“Still glitched out. I swear, this campus really does not care about their students. The signal is terrible! Anyways, Phainon, I need to get going with Mydei now. We can chat later!!”

You stood next to Mydei as the two of you began walking away, waving quickly at Phainon as you walked away. However, what you didn’t notice, was the death glare that Phainon was sending towards the two of you, especially at Mydei.

But Mydei saw. With the turn of his head, he saw those icy blue, once bright, now dark blue orbs cutting deep with their intense gaze. He didn’t shudder or tremble in fear, no. He simply kept a blank, unreadable look on his face, looking Phainon up and down with his eyes, as if scanning him carefully, whilst you’d talk about something random.

“So, Mydei. You told me you like to bake, is that right? Would you like to teach me how to bake? I’m more-so good at cooking rather than baking.. I always make the desserts too raw, or too dry!” You were both now in his dorm as you ranted, placing your books and bags on his table, granted with his permission, as you joined him in his kitchen, which was so much tidier than most other student’s kitchens.

“Hmph. The art of baking stems from the heart. Even raw or over baked goods are still delicious if you know the person made it from their heart.” He declared respectfully, handing a small black apron to you, whilst putting on his own soft pink apron on.

“Uh, are you sure this black apron is for me? I’m pretty sure you should be wearing this one-“ You’re immediately cut off as he sends you a quick death glare, which shuts you up just as fast, but you could’ve sworn there was a slight flush to his cheeks, that matched his pretty pink apron for a few seconds.

“If you looked, you’d know that apron is clearly too small for me. Of course yours is the black one. What? A man can’t wear pink now?” He asked aggressively, but not without a hint of playful aggression laced into the threads of his serious tone.

“I-I never said that!” You waved your hands in front of your face in distress and apology

“Quit it, I was just teasing you.” He uttered again, a soft smile now on his face as he took in the utterly adorable pathetic sight of you trying to save your case hopelessly.

After a while, you had managed to create an adorable set of yummy cupcakes with the helpful guidance of Mydei’s exceptional baking skills. Opening the oven door, a warm air of sweetness and cocoa hit your nose, before enveloping his whole dorm.

“Looking good,” Mydei praised as you carefully took out the tray with some oven mitts and bent down to place them on the stove atop the oven, before going back down to close the oven door again. But in the reflection of the oven, you saw something for a split second- Mydei’s gaze on you, your form in front of him. Before you could notice fully, he quickly averted his gaze back to the chocolate cupcakes in the baking tray.

Was he praising you?

As you got up, he spoke, bringing in a piping baggie and holding it in front of you.

“Now that the cupcakes are done baking, we’re going to have to wait a bit before we can ice them, since they need to cool down a bit first. Otherwise, the frosting would melt and go everywhere.”

He then brought together the ingredients to make the icing, as well as three food colourings tubes

“Now, you can decide between red food colouring, pink food colouring, or blue food colouring. I don’t really mind either way.” He said, handing the tubes to you to decide which colour to use.

You looked at the food dyes in your hand, deep in thought. See, you had wanted to gift some of these cupcakes to Phainon to make up for having to cancel your little hangout, but you also saw the way Mydei was eyeing the pink food colouring in your hand.

“Hmm.. I think I’ll go with the blue food colouring! You don’t mind that, right?” You asked gently, giving him a look of sympathy as you saw how he deflated slightly at your decision. He took the other dyes from your hand without a word, but you swore you could see a hint of a small pout on his face as he turned his back on you.

“That’s fine. I’ll help you make the icing, I just need to get the right nibs for the piping bag..” He spoke, momentarily distracted as he rummaged through his cupboard to find an appropriate nib. He came back a few moments later, standing next to you in front of the counter.

“We’re gonna be using a simple nib today, no designs. Since it’s your first time, you won’t be using any intricate designs.”

You pouted playfully as you helped him whip together a batch of icing, dipping in some of the blue food dye into the mixture, and watching as it turned from white to a pretty shade of cerulean blue almost resembling Phainon’s eyes.

“Really? I’m sure I could do it! Please, an intricate design would be so cute! Plus, I wanna gift some of these to my friend, so..” You pleaded gently, looking away in shame as he shot you a scowl, which really just made him look like a cat, or a young lion. He turned back to the bowl, whisking carefully, before muttering something almost incoherent under his breath.”

“Would’ve been cuter if you used the pink dye instead…”

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Now, I’m going to teach you how to pipe the icing properly onto the cupcake. We can still make cute designs with a simple nib, so just listen carefully.” He announced, almost sternly as he filled the piping bag with the light blue icing, twisting the nib onto the corner of the bag, before handing it to you and taking a chocolate cupcake out the tray and placing it in front of you.

“Ice it.” He said, staring down at you as you held the bag almost cluelessly in front of you.

“I thought you were gonna help me..” You inquired meekly

“I just wanna see how bad you’ll do, that’s all.” He quipped back, a sly grin on his face as he stepped away from you. You could only narrow your eyes at him as you turned to try and ice the cupcake.

That poor cupcake was now subject to messy, uneven scribbles of azure blue icing, your handiwork was truly poor. You sulked, not being able to even take your eyes off the now eyesore of the cupcake, lest to not have to see Mydei’s face, which was probably adorned with a giant, stupid smirk.

But he wasn’t Phainon, as he chuckled softly and leaned his head near yours, trying to catch a glimpse of your sullen expression.

“You don’t have to pout like that, y’know? Not everyone’s going to get it right on their first time.” He sighed, his voice now taking on a more mellow, kinder, tone, more patient, as it was devoid of any aggression or abrasion. He then simply pushed that cupcake to the side and brought out another one from the tray, before wrapping his big, muscular arms around your form, gently holding you by the hand with his larger hand, as if guiding it.

“Just follow my lead, I’ll help you..” He spoke gently, almost intimately, as he whispered into your ear, huskily, coaxing your hand to lift the piping bag once more with his.

“Mydei..” You spoke hesitantly, shyly, as your cheeks flushed, which he could see through the faint red that dusted onto the curve of your cheek from behind, and on your ears.

“Call me Mydeimos, yeah?” He breathed richly into your ear as he steered your hand with his, squeezing it to coerce you into squeezing the piping bag tight once more, to start icing the cupcake.

You stayed silent as he helped you, but yoy couldn’t help but feel so unfocused as he stayed so close by to you. How his warm breath on your neck as he leaned down to whisper instructions or words of praise into your ear from behind, how it tickled the inside of your ear a little.

After some time, the cupcakes were all beautifully decorated with the icing, with pretty, intricate designs made with the piping bag due to his ‘guidance’

“Look at that, masterpieces in less than ten minutes. You’re a pro already.” He praised, his tone now becoming less husky and quiet, returning to its normal deep and resonate tone as he pulled himself away from you.

“T-thank you.. this was mainly your doing though, you helped me move my hand in all the right places and all..” You muttered quietly, blushing softly as you met his gaze.

“You’re being a lot quieter than you were before when you were with that.. Phainon? guy. Are you two..?”

“Oh- we’re not.. yet but he’s been acting odd lately. More distant and passive-aggressive at times..” You said sadly, thinking back to his colder tone as you told him about Mydei at the start of the day.

“Well.. maybe these cupcakes will make him feel better. You too seem to be close friends, so I’m sure he’d appreciate the gesture.” He answered calmly, almost sympathetically. But, a flicker of a possessive, almost excited glint glimmered in his eyes for a split second as he spoke.

Did he have a chance with you? He did enjoy your company after all

“You’re right,” You sighed “he’s normally really bubbly, so I’m sure something sweet and cute like this will definitely lift his spirits!”

Mydei could only look at you with an adoring unreadable gaze as you began packing up the cupcakes in a tidy container you had brought along with you to his dorm.

Suddenly, you felt one of the cupcakes being pushed towards your lips, the blue icing smearing a little onto your pretty lips.

“Wha-“

“It’s the failed cupcake, just eat it. I’m sure he wouldn’t appreciate it” He stated jokingly, shoving the dessert further until you opened your mouth to get it with a muffled giggle, covering your mouth and turning to face him, cautiously taking the cupcake from his hand and looking up at him.

“Thanks again, I really enjoyed this.. I didn’t think you’d be into these sorts of things, but I’m glad I got to know you and your interests..” You mused calmly, fully aware of the close proximity between the two of you yet again. You were almost pinned against the counter by him as he kept his hand firmly next to your torso on the counter next to you

The two of you could only stare at each other longingly for a few moments, before you both blushed and pulled away from each other.

“A-anyways.. I need to get back to my dorm now, I really enjoyed your company agai-“

“Let me take you. It shouldn’t be too far, right?” He cut you off, albeit, politely due to his sincere intentions. He didn’t give you a moment to think as he helped you pack your things, slinging his keys around his fingers, creating a quiet jingle sound as he did.

“Sure, I guess. We do both live on the same floor, no? Let’s get going then.” You turned to take your things from him and grab the tub of cupcakes on the table, before making your way to his door.

However, before following you, Mydei couldn’t help but momentarily turn his head over his broad shoulder, looking through the window behind his sink. His expression was dark as he felt another presence nearby, that obviously wasn’t yours. It was now dark outside, so he couldn’t see clearly. And he didn’t want to keep you waiting to go check up and confirm his suspicions. So, he simply smirked to himself and the dark outside world beyond the window.

He knew you were being watched and listened to the whole time, so why not give a little show, no?

Phainon gritted his teeth and almost bared them like an angry dog’s at the entire spectacle from outside his window. You were now long gone from Mydei’s dorm, he had already slipped back into his own dorm, to avoid being caught by Mydei, who was already onto his ass from the very beginning.

“Shit. Fucking piece of shit. Who does that guy think he is? Touching her up, holding her like he’s fucking her. Whispering into her ear from behind like that.” Phainon mumbled angrily to himself as he tore a new one into a poor, fluffy pillow on the ground.

He pretended the pillow was Mydei. How he’d tear his resilient skin off his muscles, rip out each and every one of his axons and nerves, tear through that generous muscle of his, that almost rivalled his own. How he wanted to blend up his organs, crush up his skull, and serve it all raw to you, to show you his devotion.

But he knew you’d run away in fear, never want to speak to him again, be scared of him for the rest of your life. And he didn’t want that. In fact, he wanted the complete opposite. He wanted you to rely on him, make you depend on him. He wanted you. All to himself. No more beating around the bush, you belonged to him. And messing with a potentially even messier dog for food may result in trouble. So why not go for the food first before the other dog gets to it first?

It had been a few days since your hangout with Mydei- or Mydeimos as he wanted you to call him.- The friendship between the two of you grew stronger, and you were happy about that! But there was still a growing ache in your heart.. what about Phainon?

He hadn’t contacted you throughout the days that had passed, and he wasn’t at his dorm either whenever you knocked to come check up on him whenever you were free. Initially, you had thought he was busy with his own classes, sports activities or whatever, but even during the times where he too was free, you could never find him, anywhere. Not in his dorm, the gymnasium, the gym, museums, cute cafes, nowhere. It also didn’t help how any text you send was always left on delivered. You were becoming worried, but most of all, upset.

You missed him, you wanted to see him, you didn’t like the thought of him being angry at you because of something you did. You had to make it right, you just had to.

It was a cold, winters evening, where the sun was already beginning to set at the dusking time of 6pm in the afternoon. You walked with determination to one of Phainon’s favourite places- grand library, much greater than the one on your campus- You had remembered when Phainon took you there during the holidays at the end of the first semester, noting how it was absolutely filled with loads of historical textbooks and fiction.

You had hoped, that just by a miracle, you would be able to find Phainon there, or at least get him a few books for him as an apology gift for canceling on him for someone else, even if it seemed small in retrospect.

However, the roads and streets were desolate, quiet, empty. Nobody liked going out or hanging around during these times due to the dark weather, and the gloom it brung along with it. But you were calm, you wouldn’t be out for too long anyways, the library wasn’t too far from your college’s campus to be out for so long.

What you didn’t know, was that someone was watching you, following you, drawing closer and closer as you advanced deeper into the darkness, until-

“What’s all that runni- HEY-! MMPH!! MMHMPH—-mmph- hmmgh-.. mmh…”

An unknown perpetrator had grabbed you from behind, their arms held tightly around you like a vice as their hand brought up a cloth to your nose and mouth, drenched in a form of anesthetic, forcing you to inhale the chemical skillfully. Once the unknown person knew you had been knocked out, they rid you of your belongings, discarding them on the ground besides you aimlessly, before dragging you away, and taking you someplace else, disappearing with you into the night.

A few hours later, your eyes fluttered open with a few blinks, taking in your surroundings. It was dark to say the least, and cold, probably dirty too. Your vision was blurry, as it took you time to adjust. Once you did, you realised you were bound tightly to a chair, unable to move a limb, even by a tiny spasm from your muscles. There was also a cloth wrapped tightly around your lips, muffling any noise coming from your mouth.

Trembling in fear, you teared up. Was this the end? Were you about to be killed? Why would someone do this? Where’s Phainon? Phainon won’t know where you are.. You’re gonna die knowing Phainon hates you- Phainon- Phainon-

You didn’t even realise you were calling out Phainon’s name, even if it was muffled by your gag, as you felt a sharp, cold knife being pressed against the large vein in your neck from behind. Whimpering softly, you shut up, sweat beading at your forehead, as tears began streaming down your cheeks.

“So very pretty, aren’t you? A pretty little thing like you should know not to stay out so long i

n the dark, don’t you have a boyfriend to keep you safe?” They spoke, his voice sinister and low as he spoke, roughly yanking the cloth from around your mouth downwards to let you speak.

But you could only whimper pathetically again, your throat feeling dry as the words fell on your mouth.

“I don’t have one..” You answered weakly, your voice strained from the anesthetic previously used on you a few hours prior, from the dryness of your mouth and throat, due to the lack of water, and from your short sobs.

The figure chuckled lowly, evilly, a bite of inhumanity lingering in the sound.

“What a shame.. nobody to protect you, nobody to save you, nobody to help you, nobody to run to, nobody to love…”

Thoughts swarmed your mind as you thought of the endless possibilities of what may happen to you here. Bad thoughts, thoughts that made you even more scared, and cry even harder, louder. To which, you began to sob out loud. A genuine sound that your kidnapper took great pleasure in hearing. You felt their presence behind you back away, only to appear in front of you. They were masked, gloved, concealed fully in all black, with the exception of their eyes, which you couldn’t make out the colour of due to their mask almost covering it up completely.

Not being able to face the kidnapper eye to eye, you turned your head to the side and sobbed, not caring how stupid you may have looked as it lolled over the chair to the side. But they clearly weren’t having it, as they drew their knife under your chin, lifting it up with its sharp edge, to meet their thunderous gaze once more, eliciting a shudder and gasp from your lips.

“What’s the matter? I just want to see your face as I slice you open an-“

Their words are cut short as they gurgle on something- blood, before falling to their knees and side in front of you. What stood behind them shocked you to your core.

It was Phainon, standing tall above the man with a dagger in his hand, now coated in blood. His gaze was icy cold as he stared the kidnapper down, who looked back at him with a look of shock, and also, betrayal?

Before the kidnapper could get another word out, Phainon stepped on the back of your captor’s neck, crushing it with his weight, before turning back to you, who was horrified and motionless, face turning pale.

“P-Phai-“ You choked out, before sobbing loudly in fear and relief. His gaze immediately turned to one of immense worry and love as he dropped the dagger and cradled your face in his hands, looking at you with eyes full of distress, scanning over your form with despair.

“[Name], [Name]! Listen to me, you’re fine, you’re okay. Shh.. Hey- stop crying, please.” He gently patted your cheeks as he got down on his knees in front of you, having kicked the now dead body of your kidnapper away.

When you didn’t stop crying, he could only wince in sadness and frustration, making quick work at the rope around your legs that bound them to the chair’s legs. He whispered soft shushes to try and alleviate you somehow, which obviously didn’t work.

Once he had untied the rope’s tight knots around your ankles, he moved behind you to untie your arms from behind your back over the chair, which soothed a soreness from there that you didn’t even pick up when you woke up as he loosened the rope. He kept muttering small “I’m sorry..”’s into your ear from behind, his voice ever so soft and comforting.

Having fully untied you, he took you off the chair and brought you down onto the floor with him, cradling you against his large, warm torso, stroking your hair as you sobbed into his chest, soaking his light blue hoodie.

After some time, you had calmed down, albeit, still sniffling and choking slightly as you tried to speak.

“P-Phainon.. I— hic- I’m s-so sorry… I w-wanted to apologise- sniffle- but-“

“Shh.. it’s fine, [Name]. You shouldn’t be the one apologising, it should be me. I… I got you into this mess because of my own pride and communication issues, even if you told me to improve on it. I’m sorry, you’re safe now. Please don’t apologise, I was so worried when you weren’t picking up my calls…”

You heard a sob coming from him as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, crying gently at his own stupidity, the same stupidity that got you in this position. You couldn’t help but rub his back gently, trying to comfort him now, but he only let out a slight huff at your actions.

“..You shouldn’t be comforting me.. I got you into this mess, I almost got you killed. I was so stupid I-..”

“Phainon, i-it’s fine. You got me out of this mess, didn’t you..? And- and I don’t blame you for ghosting me or keeping your distance from me- I shouldn’t have cancelled plans on you last m-minute.. you didn’t know it’d end up like this..” Your voice was calmer now, less broken and fixing up as you spoke, trying to reduce his stress and worry.

‘You didn’t know it’d end up like this’ what a joke. He thought to himself.

“I just.. I was so worried. I tried messaging you back at 8pm to talk it out, because I knew you were most active during those times, but you didn’t answer. I spammed you so much and tried calling you so many times, but no answer…” He let out a shaky sigh as he ran a hand through his hair before continuing, “..I went to your dorm, knocked and waited there for so long, but you weren’t answering- I was terrified at that point.. Then, I went out and tried looking for you outside campus, still didn’t find you. And then- I saw it all.. your things. Your bag, your phone, everything- on the ground near some old trash cans near the side of the road. It took me ages to find you, but I spotted some desolate area and thought I’d try my luck, and thank goodness I did..”

He hugged you closer, before picking you up in a princess carry delicately, as if you were made of glass due to your more fragile state. He soon made his way out the room, making his way through the labyrinths of rotting walls and long, creepy corridors. He made sure your head was tucked away under his chin in the crook of his neck, so he could hear your breathing through his ear, in case anything went wrong.

“I have your phone and keys with me too, they must’ve fallen out whilst your kidnapper took you away, hm? Must’ve been terrifying, poor thing..” He gently swiped a piece of hair away from your face, which was all red, puffy, and wet from all your crying, giving you a pained expression in return to the sight.

As he carried you back into the campus, everything was a complete blur, and he could only slowly rock you back and fourth like a baby, to ease your nerves and mind, and coerce you back into reality as he swiftly entered your dormitory’s floor, reaching for the key in his pocket and unlocking the door swiftly.

He carefully lay you down on your room’s couch, getting on his knees again and stroking your head gently, a sad, hurt look on his face as he acknowledged your agitation and trepidation, after such a frightening experience.

“Just rest now, okay? You look so tired.. Don’t worry, [Name], I’ll keep you safe and watch over you. Just get the sleep that you need..” He lightly commanded, staying there, on his knees, until you drifted off into the realm of dreams peacefully.

He sighed in exhaustion as he got up, rubbing his forehead and looking at you with pure love in his eyes.

“…You know why I had to do this, right? Why I had to have some disgusting kidnapper take you away for some time? I need your love, your attention, your trust in me.. I’m so, so sorry, my love, but I had to. Otherwise, that pest- no. That virus, Mydei, would’ve taken you away from me, and I just can’t let that happen. I can’t imagine a life without you, [Name]….” He preached reverently, as if he was looking down at you like you were the embodiment of the divine, speaking to you as if you were his God. But you were. You were his to worship, his to love, his to keep safe. And he was going to make sure of that. One way or another, even if it meant hurting you in the process.

You belonged to him and him alone.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr men #phainon x reader #yandere phainon x reader #yandere phainon #hsr mydei #mydei x reader #phainon hsr

477 notes · View notes

kxsagi · 2 months ago

Note

Helloooooooo

Pretty please can I get reader learning the blk boys language. (Like a year into learning it and they're pretty fluent) Then telling them they only know a few phrases. The boys messing with reader and later reader gets them back. I thought of Sae with Spanish, Rin with Japanese, and Kaiser with German.

I just read your post where reader gets lost and those 3 help them. I loved it. It was sooooo good. I feel like Kaiser would mess with reader hardcore.

“𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫”

a/n: i can only speak japanese so the other two languages made me resort to AI 😭

english translations of each title: “baby girl, you understand that right?” (german), “i don’t understand, but tell me more” (spanish), and “i don’t know, but your voice is cute/wakannai demo kimi no koe kawaii” (japanese).

ft. kaiser michael, itoshi sae, itoshi rin

𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 – “𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐝𝐮 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐡𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐬, 𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫?”

you sip your iced coffee slowly, perched on the edge of kaiser’s kitchen counter, pretending not to understand a single word he’s saying as he rifles through a drawer, muttering to himself in rapid-fire german.

“wo ist mein verdammter pass? (where is my damn passport?)” he grumbles. “er war genau hier, ich schwöre (it was right here, i swear)–”

you blink innocently. “what?”

kaiser turns, flashing you a sly grin. “you didn’t catch that?” he asks, far too casually.

you shake your head. “i told you, i only know, like... ich liebe dich and wo ist die toilette, and that’s about it.”

he places a hand dramatically on his chest. “you only know i love you and where’s the toilet? wow. romantic and practical.”

you giggle, but the second he turns back around, you narrow your eyes. you’ve been studying german for a year. you’ve aced listening comprehension. you just watched three episodes of a german show without subtitles. you could pass for a confused exchange student in berlin right now if needed. but he doesn’t know that.

and michael kaiser – cocky, annoying, too-pretty michael – needs to be humbled.

and so it begins with deliberate mistakes.

“hey, what does du bist mein schatz mean?” you ask sweetly one night while cuddling on the couch.

“it means you’re my treasure,” he replies, beaming.

you blink at him. “oh. i thought it meant... ‘you smell like cheese.’”

he chokes. “where the hell did you get that?!”

“i dunno,” you shrug. “tik tok?”

it spirals from there. kaiser starts testing you like a smug little menace. whispers things like “zieh dich aus” (take off your clothes) and then chuckles when you pretend to think he’s asking for snacks.

“you know, for someone who’s been in germany for months,” he says one morning, “you’re oddly helpless.”

“i’m cute. i don’t have to be smart,” you reply.

“fair point,” he nods.

until one day, you flip the script.

he walks in, phone in hand, ranting about some teammate being late to practice.

“weißt du, ich schwöre, ich bin von idioten umgeben (i swear, i’m surrounded by idiots),” he huffs.

you look up from the couch. “ja, das stimmt (yeah, that’s true).”

kaiser freezes mid-step. “what did you just say?”

you blink innocently. “oh. just agreeing. sounds like you’re surrounded by idiots.”

he squints, slowly lowering his phone. “you understood that?”

“i understood all of it,” you say, grinning. “especially the part yesterday where you told your coach i was hot. thanks for that.”

he sputters. “you! how long?!”

you lean in, voice low. “let’s just say... du bist nicht der einzige, der spielen kann, schatz (you’re not the only one who can play games, babe).”

his mouth drops open. you’ve never seen him so scandalized. so shook. so deeply, deeply humbled.

you win.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞 – “𝐧𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐨, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐦á𝐬”

sae itoshi is obvious when he’s being a menace.

it’s the tiniest smirk. the smallest tilt of his head. and it’s always followed by a sentence in spanish that is way too fast and absolutely not beginner-level.

“perdón (sorry)?” you ask, batting your lashes.

he leans closer. “aw. too fast for you?”

you sigh dramatically. “you know i only know, like, five words.”

“and you choose to date a man who speaks spanish?”

“for the aesthetics,” you reply. “and the thighs.”

he laughs. “at least you’re honest.”

except here’s the thing.

you’ve been learning spanish in secret for a whole year. private classes. podcasts. novelas. everything. you just like watching sae get smug about it.

“te ves muy guapa hoy (you look really pretty today),” he says casually over breakfast.

you glance at him. “no idea what that means, but thank you.”

“mhm,” he hums, sipping his coffee, smug levels: critical.

so one day, when he mutters under his breath “dios, esta chica me vuelve loco (god, this girl drives me crazy)”, thinking you won’t understand, you grin.

“aw, i drive you crazy?”

his spoon clinks against the bowl. slowly, he turns. “you understood that?”

“mmmhm,” you say, leaning on your elbows. “also, i heard what you said on the phone with rin last week. something about how you’re ‘so whipped you’d move to mars’?”

he stares. “you–how long have you understood spanish?”

you raise an eyebrow. “suficiente para saber que eres un payaso (enough to know you’re a clown).”

he narrows his eyes. “so this is revenge.”

“maybe,” you chirp. “maybe i’ll just call your mom and tell her what you really said about her cooking.”

sae drops his spoon.

you win.

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧 – “わかんない。でも君の声かわいい。”

you thought you could get away with it.

“sorry, i only know basic stuff,” you lie, twirling your straw in your drink as rin talks to the waitress in quick japanese.

he looks at you. “like what?”

“uh… konnichiwa? arigatou? and suki desu? that’s about it.”

he shrugs. “that’s enough.”

but you see it – the tiniest glint of mischief behind his deadpan stare. the itoshi brothers are quiet menaces, and rin’s no different.

it starts small.

he’ll murmur something under his breath while brushing your hair out of your eyes. or whisper something in japanese when he thinks you’re asleep.

“かわいすぎる (kawaisugiru/too cute),” he says one night. “うざいくらいに (uzaikuraini/annoyingly so).”

you pretend to be asleep. your eye twitches. he just called you annoyingly cute. and he thinks you don’t know.

interesting.

so, naturally, you begin collecting evidence.

“君は俺の (kimi wa ore no),” he mutters one day, tugging you close. you’re mine.

“hmm?” you blink.

“nothing,” he replies, far too smug.

you let it slide. for now.

but your revenge is poetic.

you wait until dinner with his teammates. they’re all chatting in japanese, and you just sit there, nodding along like you don’t understand a thing, until one of them jokes about rin being unusually soft with you.

“ほんと、彼女の前だけ甘いよな (honto, kanojo no mae dake amai yo na/seriously, he’s only sweet in front of her),” one of them says. rin snorts.

you glance up sweetly. “あ、そう？じゃあ、彼の前で甘くしようかな。(a, sou? jaa, kare no mae de amakushiyou kana/oh, really? then i’ll just be sweet in front of him too.)”

rin chokes. the entire table goes silent.

you sip your tea. “what? did i say it wrong?”

he turns to you, completely betrayed. “you speak japanese.”

“a little,” you shrug. “but i’m really good at understanding liars.”

he stares. “how long?”

“long enough to know you talk to my dog in a baby voice when you think i’m not home.”

you win.

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk #bllk x reader #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser michael x reader #bilingual bimbo behavior

602 notes · View notes

gloomskulls · 7 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LIMERENCE [tasm!peter parker]

pairings: tasm!peter parker x reader

part 2

⇢ ˗ˏˋ SUMMARY ୨୧ For Peter Parker, the deepest secret is not being Spider-Man. It's that he likes you, no he loves you, wants you in any imaginable way possible. After years of quietly admiring you from a distance, everything changes after a biology project that partners you two together. Peter sees a glimpse of chance to get nearer to you, but the line of affection and obsession begins to blur

⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARNING ୨୧ obessive peter, creep peter, stalking, masturbation, panty sniffing, dirty thoughts, breaking in, just peter being hopelessly in love. If any of this finds you uncomfortable, please click out do yourself (and me also) a favor. lemme know if I missed any! MINORS DO NOT READ

If you don't want to see my dark stories in the future please block the tag #madi: dark content

A/n: my first ever fic posted on Tumblr, yippee! This is also my first ever smut so it probs be equivalent to horse poo but anyways, this also takes place in tasm 2. don't steal any of the shit I've written or else i'm gonna turn you into Vicky from Terrifier/srs

Peter didn't understand what was so special about you, you were just a crush. Or that's what he convinced himself. Every single place you were in, Peter would carefully trail behind you, like there was a magnet strapped onto you, and Peter was the metal, he would always find himself drawing next to you. Peter Parker was no stranger to keeping secrets. It was, after all, the epitome of his double life. A mask, a costume, a name that wasn't his at all. There was one secret, however, that even the Spider-Man's mask couldn't cover—his growing infatuation towards you.

It started out really simple. You decided to give back the nerdy boy's pencil in sophomore year and defended him from Flash Thompson in his junior year, it was all simple really, something a person with decency and was taught with proper manners would do. But Peter took it as more than that.

Candid photos here and there, purposefully falling of his skateboard so you would help him, cryptic notes in your locker, sometimes a random flower if Peter was lucky to find any.

Limerence, as some might say

The first people who would ever notice Peter's strange behavior where the people who raised him. Uncle Ben would notice this girl in the screen of his nephew's computer, so did Aunt May when she saw many polaroid photos of the same face underneath Peter's bed. Peter shrugged it off, saying the same exact words to the both of them.

'she's just a crush'

Peter Parker was very good at being hidden in the open. Sure, he didn't want to be invisible, but it is what it is. One of the self-working "losers" with horrible punchlines and pretty much the face screaming "nerd". Well, it didn't bother Peter much. He had many other more important things to think about. You

It's been years now. It was already the last year of senior year, graduation was already nearing, still, he hasn't mustered up the courage to do speak to you, afraid that you won't reciprocate the same feelings he has. His been watching you from a distance, stealing glances in class and making mental notes on all the little things you did, like doodling on the corners of your notebooks or, how you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. He knew that it was weird, creepy even, but Peter couldn't stop himself.

So, when Mr. Warren announced a paired project for biology, Peter's internal monologue kicked into overdrive.

"Pair work begins today," Mr. Warren said, his smile a gruff overture that still Peter thought unnecessary. "Choose your partners wisely, just choose somebody you will along with. You can really screw up over this project if you don't!"

The room broke out into a low buzz as students shuffled their chairs and moved toward their friends. Peter didn't move. He never did. Choosing a partner was like finding a needle in a haystack type of task for him

Alright, Pete, it is not such a big deal. You are not going to end up with her or anything. Just relax, find someone cool, and—

"Peter!"

Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he looked up to see you in front of his desk, clutching a notebook to your chest

"By any chance do you have a partner? My friends kind of made their own pairs" you asked, your lips curving into an easy smile.

Peter blinked. His brain short-circuited.

"N-nope. I'm totally solo. Flying solo. A lone wolf. A…"

"Awesome! Then let's team up."

Peter turned to you, his mind racing, he blinked, trying to absorb this. You were choosing him? He nodded frantically; his heart was hammering at a top speed that he was convinced you could hear it

You smiled at him, you fucking smiled at him

For the rest of the class Mr. Warren instructed everyone to plan for the project for the rest of the class. You kept bouncing ideas back and forth, and Peter felt a strange, thrilling sensation of in his heart. You were funny, clever, and surprisingly very easy to communicate with. Every time you laughed at one of his jokes, he felt like he was soaring.

When the bell rang, you packed your things and turned to him. "We should work on this at my place. Tomorrow after school?"

Peter nearly dropped his notebook. "Uh, yeah. Totally. I mean, yes. That works. Perfect. So super normal."

You laughed again. "Cool. Here's my address."

And with that, you scribbled it on a scrap of paper and handed it to him before walking away, leaving Peter frozen in his seat.

That night, Peter was sitting in his room staring at the address. To most people, that was just a little detail, probably not even worth a second thought. But to Peter, it was an invitation, or perhaps a key, even just for a second to get into your life. To know every little thing about you

Unfortunately, though, that's not enough.

He felt his hands shaking as he opened the drawer in his desk to reveal a small trove of hidden treasures; poorly taken pictures of you from a distance, bits of paper that you had thrown away during math class, and a small stash of hair strands that he meticulously collected from your hair comb when you weren't looking

This was love, wasn't it? The desperate consuming desire to be around her, to know everything about you.

And tomorrow, he shall get his chance.

You invited him, but Peter just knew it was really more than what you would ever willingly give.

His love was a web, and you were stepping into it, one delicate thread at a time.

Peter stood outside your house with a crumpled piece of paper clutched in his rather sweaty hand. The address on it was correct, but doubt clouded him. What if she had forgotten about this meeting? What if this was simply a joke? No, she would never do that, he tried to convince himself

Peter Parker was standing at your porch. Each thump of his heart sounded like one of the drums in the music club. He raised his hand to knock, hesitating for a moment. Maybe it was a terrible idea to come here after all; he could fake being sick, sending her an apology while rescheduling. Just then, the door swung open before he even had the chance to run.

"Hey, you found my house, I actually thought you would get lost cause I wrote the wrong color of the rooftop on the note" you said while stepping aside to let him enter.

"I was actually hesitant to knock, because it didn't look like the description" He quietly said. You actually got everything right, I was just being a huge pussy so I didn't come immediately, he thought to himself.

"Come in. I have started working on the diagram."

Peter plasted a grin and forced his legs down inside. "Well, look at you. Overachieving already. I guess I'll just sit back and let you do all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, your voice making him feel that the world wasn't so bad after all. "Nice try, Parker. Grab a marker. You're on label duty."

"Come on, we can work in the dining area," you said, leading him across the house.

The dining table was already loaded with supplies, with textbooks scattered everywhere, colored pencils, sheets of poster paper, you name it. You positioned herself and gestured to him to join you.

You fell into a rhythm, your hand sketching the parts of the circulatory system while Peter scrawled out the labels in his neatest handwriting. He cracked jokes every few minutes, drawing out your laughter like a lifeline. It would be so easy to lose himself in the moment, pretend that you both were just two friends hanging out and not a guy hopelessly infatuated with someone who didn't even know half the truth about him.

Both of you had a relatively smooth first hour of working, few questions were asked here and there on the project. Peter kept his answers short, being extra cautious with what to share, but it seemed you did not mind. You sketched diagrams, jotting down notes with an ease that made Peter's hands tremble every time he made an attempt to help.

"So Peter," you suddenly announced after the silence, "why is it that you don't talk very much? At school I mean"

The question staggered him, rendering him blank while the colored pencil just hovered above the page.

Peter jerked up his head and looked surprised. "What do you mean? Talking is what I do. I mean, there's even people begging me to stop."

You smirked but didn't let it down. "I mean really, you're funny but I know nothing about you. What's your thing, Peter Parker?"

He didn't answer immediately but fiddled with the marker. "I'm just… some guy. Pretty boring, honestly. Not much to tell."

Your expression softened, "I don't buy that. You're not boring".

Your words made Peter's chest tighter. He wanted to believe you, yet the voice at the back of his mind reminded how wrong youwere. If you only knew the real him, the guy who had spent countless nights staring at your window, memorizing your every move, you wouldn't be smiling and sitting here before him.

"Hey, don't overthink it. You're cool. Let's just finish this masterpiece, okay?" you said, flicking his arm before he could answer.

Peter smiled forcedly

And when they finished the day's work, you walk him to the door once more, your smile as warm as ever.

"Thanks for coming over," you said. "You're actually a pretty decent partner, Parker."

"Decent?!" Peter gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. "Wow. Don't hold back; tell me how you really feel."

And you laughed, shaking your head. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Peter waved. You waved back at him, as he strolled down the street, but he did not go very far. Instead, he found himself across the street in the same place, hidden under the shadow of the oak tree.

you were in your living room again, curled around a blanket and a pillow as you watched whatever was on your screen, your face glowing softly from the light of the television. Peter leaned against the tree with both hands shoved in his jacket pockets and simply watched.

How long he'd been there, he couldn't tell, but he didn't want to leave. This was the closest he ever felt with you, even if you didn't know he was here.

He knew this was crossing the line, but he couldn't help himself. He found himself sneaking into your house. Now he really felt like a robber trying to intrude a home, expect he wasn't really going to steal anything, or so he thought.

It was late at night, you and your family were already asleep at this point

Peter knew that the right thing to do was to head home. He knew for sure that this crossed a line even he wasn't sure he could come back from. But before he could stop himself, he was moving, slipping across the street and into the shadows of your yard.

His palms were slick with sweat as he scanned the side of the house. The metal trellis leading up to your window wasn't very solid, but it would hold him if he was careful.

He carefully climbed the trellis, not putting too much weight on it. And his heart was pounding as he got to your window, his fingers brushing against the cool glass.

It wasn't locked.

At that moment, his body froze. The rational part of him screamed to stop, to climb back down and pretend this never happened. But then his hand was on the window. And that soft sound of it sliding open seemed to be deafeningly loud in the stillness of the night.

He slipped into his feet and landed silently on the carpeted floor. Your room smelled of lavender and something warm and sweet like vanilla. A little bit of moonlight filtered through the curtains and brightened the room in pale silver.

There she was

You laid curled up in your bed, the blankets pulled up to your shoulders, your face peaceful in sleep. Peter’s breath caught in his throat. You looked so serene, so utterly perfect, that it made his chest ache.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity, just watching you. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. But all he felt was a strange mix of awe and guilt.

This was wrong.

He knew it.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave.

He looked around your room, it was full of polaroids of either you or your friends.

He started walking around your room quietly, careful to not wake you up in your slumber, because God knows what will happen if you saw him in your room with all its glory, he couldn't even imagine the disgust on your face.

But one thing caught his eye

Your bathroom was open, and in your bathroom was a basket with what he assumed inside were dirty laundry.

He knew it was disgusting, heck, over the top creep award would probably go to him, but he found himself walking towards the bathroom. It was wrong, but he still did it, he needs to get help, he thought to himself.

One second ago he was walking towards your bathroom, next thing you knew he was rummaging through your dirty laundry, occasionally smelling some of your shirts. He cherished the way your scent overwhelmed his nose, he was in Cloud 9.

While he was rummaging, a little piece of clothing caught his eye. With shaky hands he picked up the piece of clothing, it was your pink underwear with little cherries scattered everywhere as design.

He brought it near to his nose. He suddenly sat down in the neat cold tiles of the bathroom floor, he smelt it as if it was his oxygen.

He let out a small moan. He didn't know if it was an invisible force making him do such things, but he found his hands unbuttoning his pants

Peter Parker sat in the rest room; hand clasped tight around the lacy edge of the pink panty. He took out his hardened length of his boxers. The scent of dirty panties wafted his nose.

He imagined you wrapped around his throbbing cock, he thought of the feeling of your tight little pussy riding his cock, he wanted the sweet nectar from your lips, while having a feast on your quivering hole. His cock throbbed in his palms, his hands were much faster now, stroking his hardened cock. He had to bite his tongue to keep himself from moaning

Why was he doing this? You were literally there, outside the bathroom, sleeping. And Peter was here, out in the open, jerking off to the smell of your used panties

He was drenched in sweat as his hairs stuck to his wet forehead. He fantasized about your perky tits; perfect little nipples erect in anticipation. Pumping the shaft rapidly, imagining you on all fours begging for more, the bounce of your tits while riding him moaning his name like a mantra, Peter, fuck Peter, Peter, oh my God!

Peter was breathing heavily, his release was near, he profusely pumped his manhood, his hands and cock covered in his sticky pre-cum.

He wanted to feel you inside him, want you to quiver in pleasure as he fucks you over and over again.

He felt a sudden wave of pleasure hitting him, before he knew it, he released a flooded torrent of jizz into sticky cum as it scattered all over the floor. He slumped against the wall, heaving as he tried to steady his racing heart. He looked outside the door, finding you in the same spot as you were. You were sleeping oh so peacefully

He gazed at you, his heart full of unfulfilled yearning. He desperately wanted to be part of your world, to be someone you chose to let in. Yet no matter how many jokes he made or how close you seemed; he knew deep in his heart that he was not enough.

A soft sound broke the silence.

Peter's eyes snap to the bed, and his stomach lurch at the realization that you were stirring. Your brows knitted, your breathing started shifting, just as if you were going to wake up.

He immediately threw your panties back into the basket as he stood up and fixed his underwear and pants

He felt panic surging him, he immediately sprinted near the window. It made a loud a thud, now he was fucked

He moved quickly and quietly without thinking as he quietly ran towards the window. Just as you were about to opene your eyes, he slipped stealthily past the fluttering of curtains.

He tried scrambling down the trellis and found the ground, shivering and shaking as he did so.

He was hidden in a shadow corner, looking up towards your window. You were sitting up now, rubbing your eyes and looking around your room with a sleepy confusion.

Peter's chest tightened.

What's the matter with him?

He hurried as he turned away, his footsteps quiet against the pavement

The cool night air wrapped around Peter Parker like a cold, suffocating blanket as he walked back toward his house. Each step seemed to slant further and further as if his sneakers were scuffing wet against the cracked pavement in a slow and deliberate rhythm.

It was as if the world had gone still—entirely quiet. No cars were heard, no distant chatter, no hum of the city. Just Peter, the quiet whistle of wind through leaves, and the pounding thuds of his thoughts.

With that, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, his fingers curling into tight fists. Replaying the scene, he heard the soft sound of your breathing, the warmth of your room, and the way you stirred in your bed as if you had felt him there.

What the heck are you doing, Parker? He hadn't intended to climb into your room. He hadn't intended for it to get this far. Watching from the shadows was one thing, but tonight… tonight he had crossed a line.

He stopped moving and leaned against the lamppost, his breath escaping him in short, sharp gasps. Above him, the light flickered, shining unevenly across his shadow on the ground.

"This isn't me," he whispered to himself, the voice trembling.

But wasn't it?

Hadn't he been staring at you for years, taking notes while you weren't looking, memorizing all of your movements, laughter, and smiles? He had told himself that it was just harmless admiration from a distance, but now it was clear.

What would you think if you knew?

He sighed, Peter threw back his head and gazed up at the sky. Above him the stars, though cold and distant, seemed on to him— judging him in silence.

With the words of Uncle Ben echoing in his mind, With great power comes great responsibility, Peter winced.

Peter's jaw clamped down. Not great power; not yet. But wasn't all this part of it? Taking responsibility for his actions, owning up to his mistakes before they spiraled uncontrollably out of hand?

It hit him like a gut punch.

He wouldn't ever be able to take it back. Nor would he ever be able to wipe away the fact that he'd violated your space, your privacy, in a way you might never forgive. But he could stop it from going any further. He could ensure that you never found out.

@gloomskulls 2024. DON'T COPY, TRANSLATE OR USE ANY OF MY WORKS HERE OR ANY OTHER WEBSITES. Photos don't belong to me

926 notes · View notes