#night of the doctor coat

[silverfoxstole]

It’s done!

After ten days of work (and another three for a waistcoat I’m not that happy with; see below), the NotD coat is finished! Woohoo!

Overall, I’m really pleased with it, which is just as well as it’s taken so much time (and grief!). I worked out that if I’d paid myself minimum wage for all the hours I put in the labour alone would amount to about £500. One of my ex colleagues used to suggest I set up a dressmaking business and wouldn’t believe me when I told her it wouldn’t be cost effective as the amount of labour involved would make everything too expensive.

Anyway, I have taken quite a lot of photos, so you can see how it turned out:

This got long so I’ll stick the rest behind a cut.

I ended up adding some extra fabric to the tails, as they were sticking out at an angle and didn’t look right. It means an extra seam but it’s not that visible and I much prefer it this way, with more fullness at the back (and it properly covers my bum, which is very important!):

Though it looks fine on the dummy when I put it on I’m not convinced I didn’t raise the back waist seam a bit too far, but it’s sitting on my waist so… *shrugs* I don’t often look at myself from behind so it probably doesn’t matter that much.

After sewing on the two back buttons I changed my mind and went with the covered ones in the end, deciding on reflection that those I bought last week were a bit too pale. They would have fitted better if I’d made the binding more of a contrast (which I’m glad I didn’t as it would have been more obvious that it’s not exactly perfect in some places). I had to make the buttonholes manually as there was no way the automatic buttonhole foot wouldn’t get caught at some point. I haven’t sewn any that way since I first started out six years ago and was using my mother’s old machine! All the ones I’ve owned have had an automatic function so I had to practice a bit to remind myself how to do it. Thankfully they’ve turned out well.

I also solved the problem of the gap between the collar and lapel by stitching them together. It works a treat!

Though I’ve made a miniature version for Eight Bear, this is the first time I’ve tried to replicate an existing garment for myself (the Dark Eyes coat was an interpretation rather than a direct copy), and I am actually really proud that I’ve ended up with something that does look pretty much like the original, as well as Steven Ricks’s recreation, which has been a definite influence!

That said, while the coat has turned out well I’m not massively pleased with the waistcoat. I decided to make another one on a whim as I had a more accurate pattern and saw what looked like an ideal fabric but I don’t like it all that much now it’s done. It was hell to put together because the satin just started disintegrating and still is; I’ve had to sew up holes in both the pockets because the seams have just frayed straight through and I’d put them together before I thought of stabilising the edges with interfacing. It’s another men’s pattern and I should have made some adjustments but after doing so much to the coat I really couldn’t be bothered and just put it together as it was; I should really have added some length, which is ironic given the amount I had to remove from the coat, and perhaps levelled it off at the front. Consequently it’s not a great fit and sits really awkwardly on Stella as you can see, though that may have something to do with the fact that I put the buttonholes on the wrong side out of habit:

There is a watch on the end of the chain this time, because the pockets are real! I quite like the look of the waistcoat undone when I put it on, but done up not so much. There’s a lot of spare fabric in the front for some reason, which I tried to hide by smoothing it under the collar and then stitching the collar down. It hasn’t entirely worked, and it doesn’t help that the brocade is such a bouncy fabric and doesn’t press well.

Putting it all together I do think it looks better on Stella than me, but that’s probably because I rarely wear so many layers! I wish I had a better backdrop than the bedroom but it’ll have to do:

Maybe I could unbutton the waistcoat and untuck the shirt and be Eight having a casual day? I love the coat but I do feel much more comfortable wearing it over a t-shirt and jeans!

Now I just have to wait until some cooler weather to be able to put it into use. My only gripe is that there are no external pockets, either on the original or the pattern I used! Surely you’d think the Doctor would need pockets?

[corallapis]

[mizgnomer]

David Tennant in Long Coats

Bonus (in the Fifth Doctor's coat):

[possessable]

internsona except it's specifically to joke about how young mrs. stevenson looked extremely like how i draw myself

[piease-iove-me]

so yk what i totally would watch? a whole ass spin off series about theo's 9 years spent with the doctors. THAT i would watch.

[crystalromana]

about that post that is "is eights coat supposed to be green or brown because velvet is Like That" I do think that it is supposed to be green.

Eight is the new beginnings Doctor. It fits in with him literally turning over a new leaf (or trying lol). And literally being new in trying to reboot the series. Green is his color.

Also that historical fact about green signaling gayness

[jakemyboy]

A very good boy at the vet for a recheck after his ER visits two weeks ago. Totally good for his temperature taking, and then for a quick rectal check to make sure the object the ER vet had felt was no longer there. Consensus was it was possibly the rice chew he had eaten that upset his digestive tract as it went through. Too big a chunk bitten off. I found the presumed chunk three days later in his poop. It was an expensive episode, this boy will never get any chews again except Whimzees fake pig ears. That's all I ever gave Jake and he had beautiful teeth all the way to the end of his eleven years. I have no idea what Blu ate his first two years, but he's already lost a tooth. My theory is ( and it's just my own thinking, hard chews fracture the teeth, just like humans teeth fracture if they chew ice etc., and it can be years before the tooth fractures enough it needs removing or infection gets in there.)

A good boy gets some treats on the way home! The vet tried to give him one of their treats after the exam and he turned it down. So she gave him one of ours with one of theirs at the same time and he gobbled them. Then she tried theirs again by itself and he said 'nope!' 🤣

[flowerflamestars]

Robin fic snippet

It went so much worse than Dick anticipated.

He was late, for one thing, arrived still pulling on his jacket to find Damien already looking down on Eleanor. Literally, down- at sixteen Dami was already making it clear he was going to grow into a Bruce-level height, awkward stretched limbs and just beginning to emerge cheekbones that made him look like a paused time-lapse.   “You.”

“Me,” Eleanor had answered, hands shoved deep into yet another perfect coat, combat boots teetering platforms just high enough to raise her to level with Dami’s chin.

Damien, after a long pause, nodded.  Held out his arm in the perfect, immaculate, out of time courtesy he’d been capable since he was a small child and largely refused to bother utilizing.   She took his elbow.   Neither of them had any use for Dick, for the rest of night.   “She threatened his math teacher,” Dick recounted, hysteric, face smashed to Llewellyn’s hip the next morning.   Cool fingers carded into his hair, furthering the slow melt of Dick’s body boneless. “The homophobic math teacher?”   “I left them alone for ten minutes,” Dick tried to explain, “And Dami picked out a roster of combat instructors for her. B is still trying to figure out why he bought roundtrip tickets to Paris for fall break.”   Llewellyn hummed, low in his throat. Leaned down and carefully slotted his mouth to line of Dick’s shoulder, kissing softly scarred skin. “Who’s in Paris?”   “An assassin,” Dick muttered, “Who killed our sister, once.”   The Lady Shiva, Dami had dropped, out of goddamn nowhere.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Two Normal Arms

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Peter breaks his arm, he notices he gets a lot of attention from you. So much attention that he prolongs the broken arm as long as he can

Masterlist

Peter had a strict no texting while swinging rule.

That rule was broken one night on patrol during a particularly heated back and forth text conversation with Ned over whether chili was a soup or an entirely different category of food. Peter didn’t feel like waiting until he got home to respond, so he texted with one hand while he shot webs with the other. His eyes were glued to his phone as he went to grab a web that wasn’t anywhere close to where he thought it was. He went crashing to the ground, landing right on his right arm. He heard the crunch loud and clear and let out a little whimper. Peter peeled himself off the pavement and pulled his mask off to look at his arm.

“Well that’s not good.” He mumbled when he saw the curve in a place his arm didn’t typically curve.

He knew there was no way he could swing home with the arm but he was too far to walk. He looked around and realized he was in your neighborhood. He’d been to your place once before when Tony first bought you an apartment and wondered if he could find it again by memory. He ran up and down the block until he spotted a window with a light on near the top floor of a building twice the size of Peters. He could see a little Iron Man flag in the window and took a leap of faith that that was your apartment. He cradled his arm to his chest and gingerly climbed the side of the building until he reached the window. He used his head to knock on the window and sighed in relief when he saw you running to open it.

“Peter? What are you doing up here?” You whispered.

“I’m sorry. I would never bother you at home but I got hurt really badly and I can’t swing.” Peter winced and held up his arm. You could see exactly where the break was and put a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my God. Come in.” You said as you wrapped an arm around him and helped him inside. You helped Peter sit down on your couch before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Let me see this.” You said and gently moved his hand away from his arm. It was bent in an awkward way and resembled an “s”, something you didn’t know arms could do.

“Is it bad?” Peter asked you.

“One second.” You smiled sweetly and calmly walked into the next room. When you returned, you had a forced smile on your face.

“It’s not bad.” You answered him.

“You went over there to gag gagged, didn’t you?”

“I did. I’m sorry.” You cringed. “Broken bones gross me out.”

“Oh shit. You think it’s broken?” Peter asked and held the arm up. It limply hung in the air and you gagged again.

“Peter, honey, it looks like a fish hook.”

“Yeah. That’s probably not good, right?” He asked as he looked at it.

“I need to get you to a hospital.” You decided and grabbed your car keys.

“A hospital? That won’t be necessary. There’s no need for all that fuss. Can’t we just wrap it up and call it a day?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I don’t think so. I can put bandaids on your other cuts but this needs to be looked at by a real doctor.”

“You said you’ve seen every season of Greys Anatomy right? Can’t you just put on an episode and do what they do?”

“All they do is have sex during work hours. We can’t do that right now.” You shook your head as you threw your coat on. Peter stopped panicking for a second and felt his face heat up.

“But later?” He asked. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and set your keys down.

“Hang on. We gotta get you out of those clothes.”

“Really? Now?” Peter gulped and grabbed his shirt with his free hand.

“Well we can’t get checked out as Spiderman without the doctors seeing this pretty face.” You teased and cupped his chin before walking towards your room.

“Oh. Right.” He blushed and touched his chin.

“I’ll grab some of my stuff.” You called from your room. You returned shortly with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Peter pressed the button on the center of his suit and shimmied out of it before making eye contact with you. You gulped and quickly turned around to give him some privacy. Peter blushed and stood up to shake the suit onto the floor. He gingerly stepped into the pants and pulled them up with one hand. When it came to the hoodie, he knew there was no way he could put it on with one arm.

“Um….” He said as he struggled to get his head in the hoodie.

“You need help?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Yes please.”

You laughed and turned around to help Peter get dressed. You pulled his head through the opening and laughed when his messy hair stuck straight up.

“Thank you.” Peter smiled shyly as you fixed his hair.

“Anytime.” You smiled back.

“I kinda hate that your pants fit me.” He said sheepishly and looked down at the pants you had given him.

“Why? I think you look great in my clothes.”

“Oh. Well thank you.” He blushed. “You’d probably look great in mine.”

“I don’t know if I have the muscles to fill out your suit.” You sighed and nodded towards his discarded suit.

“It doesn’t have to be the suit. You’d look good in just my T shirt.”

“Just your T shirt?” You asked coyly, making Peter go bright red.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly explained.

“We can put your theory to the test later. Let’s get your arm looked at first.” You said and pulled him towards the door. Peter gulped and made it all the way to the car before stopping in his tracks.

“I can’t go to the hospital.” He blurted. You stopped and looked at him and we’re supposed to see the embarrassed look on his face as he cradled his arm.

“Why not?” You asked him as you put your hand on his shoulder. Peter looked at your hand before looking into your eyes and sighing.

“My aunt would never be able to afford it with her new job.” He admitted. “We’re barely making rent as it is. I can’t put this on her.”

“So don’t.” You shrugged. “Put it on my dads card.”

“I can’t just charge my medical bills to your dad.” Peter laughed uncomfortably.

“Sure you can. He won’t even notice. And if he asks about the card, I’ll just tell him I was shopping.” You insisted and pulled Peter towards your car.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He shook his head and stayed where he was.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Actually, I’m forcing. Get in the car.” You insisted as you opened the passenger door. You playfully pushed him into the car and buckled his seatbelt for him. You then climbed into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Thank you.” He smiled shyly when you looked over at him.

“Of course. You can trust me, Peter. I’m your friend.” You smiled back and started to drive.

“Right.” His nodded as his smile faltered a little at the word “friend” but he didn’t say anything. By the time you pulled up to the hospital, Peter was in bad shape. His arm was swelling and causing him more pain than he had ever felt. You opened his door and helped him out of the car, feeling the way he was barely able to hold himself up.

“Hey, Y/n?” Peter winced and held on tight to you.

“Yeah, Peter?”

“Do you think you could lift someone my size?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Because I’m about to pass out.” He said right before collapsing onto the ground.

When Peter woke up later in his hospital bed, he felt a whole lot better. So much better, in fact, that he didn’t even notice the giant blue cast on his arm. He didn’t know if it was the morphine he had been given or fact that you were sitting at his bedside with your hand that was keeping him pain free.

“Hey, Peter.” You smiled softly at him and brushed the hair off his forehead. Peter sat up a little in his bed and smiled back.

“So pretty. You look nothing like your dad.” He said sleepily.

“What was that?” You laughed even though you had definitely heard him.

“Want jello.” Peter said and licked his dry lips. You held his cup of water to his lips and helped him drink as the doctor came in.

“Oh, good. He’s awake.” The doctor said.

“Woah. What happened?” Peter asked ad he noticed his cast.

“We had to do surgery on your arm to set the bone back into place. You’ll be in a cast for the next six to eight weeks.”

“I didn’t know your favorite color so I picked blue. I hope that’s okay.” You explained sheepishly.

“Blue is great. Thank you.” Peter smiled at you as he slowly felt more with it.

“It’s a good thing your girlfriend brought you in when she did. You had free fluid in your arm. It could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t come in right away.” The doctor told him.

“Oh. She’s not my-“

“Thank, doctor. Is there anything we should do now?” You cut him off as you turned to the doctor.

“He’s safe to bring home. Just keep the arm elevated and don’t get it wet. I can prescribe some pain meds as well.”

“Thank you. And could we get some jello too please?” You requested.

“No problem. I’ll be right back with that.” The doctor smiled and left the room.

“You broke your wrist, elbow and radius bone. Which I just found out is the bone in between your wrist and elbow. Who knew it had a name? But that’s why the cast goes so high.” You explained to Peter once you were alone.

“Damn. That’s a lot of bones. No wonder it hurts.” He said and shifted uncomfortably in the bed. It didn’t actually hurt that bad, but he liked it when you were worried about him.

“Oh no. It does? Can I do anything?” You asked and brushed his hair back again. Peter blushed and smiled softly as he looked into your concerned eyes.

“Just keep holding my hand, please. It helps with the pain.” He said and faked a cough for added measure. You fell right for it and squeezed his hand.

“It’s gonna be okay, Peter. I won’t leave your side. But do you want me to call your aunt?”

“No, this will just freak her out. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Okay. You could crash at my place tonight if you want. I’ll drive you home tomorrow so we can tell her together. I wrote down everything the doctor said since you were still knocked out.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Peter smiled in appreciation when you showed him the list you had made. You smiled back and put the list down on his bedside table before looking at him. Peter was gazing at you intently because he could tell you had something on your mind.

“I like the color you picked.” Peter said to cut the silence.

“Oh, thanks. I was gonna go with red but I always thought you looked best in blue.” You said without looking at him. Peter blushed at the casual compliment and tilted his head to get you to look at him. You finally did look into his eyes and smiled softly.

“Peter, could I….”

“Yes?” Peter sat up eagerly at your question.

“Sign your cast?” You finished your sentence and he sat back in his bed.

“Oh, sure.” He agreed. You pulled a sharpie out of your bag and wrote your name on the front of Peters cast. Peters face reddened when he saw how big you had written it and he looked at his cast proudly.

“First one.” You smiled and put the sharpie down.

“Probably one of the only ones that will be on here.” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, really? Maybe I should add something else then.” You said and picked the sharpie back up. Peter couldn’t see what you were drawing until you gently turned his cast towards him.

“Do you like it?” You asked timidly. Peter looked at his cast and saw that you had drawn a big heart around your name.

“I love it.” Peter blushed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s an honor to be the first.” You told him. “Oh, and I went by the tower while you were sleeping and grabbed some of your clothes. The doctor said I can take you home once you can stand on your own.”

“I feel great, actually. Thanks for getting the clothes.” Peter thanked you as he got out of his bed. He got changed in the bathroom and met you in the room once he was done. You helped Peter get signed out before taking him back to your apartment.

“Stay here. I’ll make up the bed for you. Can I get you anything?” You asked as you helped Peter sit on your couch.

“Could I have some water please?”

“Of course.” You cupped his chin before going to get him a glass of water. Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way you were babying him because of his injury. You returned with his water and sat beside him on the couch.

“Is there anything else I could get you?”

“I would love to shower. But I can’t get my cast wet.” Peter frowned and looked at his cast.

“You don’t have to.” You said and got back up. You returned shortly with a black garbage bag and held it up to show Peter.

“You’re a genius.” He smiled and got up from the couch.

“I aim to please.” You shrugged and opened the bag up. Peter went to put his arm inside but you stopped him.

“Um, you should probably take off your shirt before I put this on.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Peter replied and tried to take his shirt off, which proved to be difficult with only one hand. After watching him struggle for a bit, you grabbed the hem and helped him take it off. Peters face reddened as you pulled the shirt over his head and he smiled softly. You did your best to keep your eyes on his as you tied the bag around his arm and tried not to look at his body.

“There. That should protect it from any water.” You said as you never broke eye contact.

“Thanks. That was really smart.” Peter said quietly. You stayed staring at each other for a little too long before you snapped out of it.

“The bathroom is the first door on the left. Shampoo and conditioner is all in there. And I have extra towels under the sink.“ You said as you stepped away from him.

“Cool. Thank you.” He smiled once again before walking to the bathroom. Your garbage bag idea worked perfectly and he was able to clean himself without getting any water on the cast. He dried himself off to the best of his ability with one hand and stepped back into his boxers and sweatpants from before. That’s when he realized he had left his shirt out in the living room with you. Peter gulped and fixed his hair in the mirror before going to find you again.

“Hey. All clean?” You asked when he came back into the living room.

“Yep. Could you take this thing off of me?” Peter asked and held up his arm.

“Sure.” You gulped and went over to him. You put on your best performance of pretending he wasn’t shirtless and glistening from the shower as you untied the bag and pulled it off. You made eye contact once again and quickly looked anywhere but his naked torso.

“Do you need help getting your shirt back on?” You asked and hoped the answer was yes.

“It’s okay. I think I can do it. You’ve already done so much.” Peter said as he grabbed the shirt. He managed to get one arm and both shoulders in before realizing he had no way of getting his cast through the shirt.

“I’m stuck.” He whined, making you laugh a little. He had his good arm sticking out over his head and his shirt riding up like a crop top .

“Aw. Look at you.” You chuckled and carefully pulled his broken arm through the shirt.

“Thanks. Again.” Peter laughed as well now that he was dressed.

“You’re very welcome. Now follow me. I’ll show you your bed.” You said and brought Peter to your guest bedroom. You had set it up for him while he was in the shower and put lots of extra pillows so he would be comfortable.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” You turned to him to ask. Peter looked down at your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“Um….” He trailed off and looked over at the bed.

“How about some sleep?”

“Yeah.” He laughs through a yawn. “That sounds really good. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Anytime, Peter. Goodnight.” You squeezed his arm before leaving the room. Peter stayed frozen in place for a minute and tried to touch his arm where you hand had just been, then remembered it was broken.

Peter woke up the next morning to the sweet smell of pancakes. He got out of bed and noticed that the pain in his arm had almost completely gone away. He flexed his fingers, something the doctor mentioned that he probably wouldn’t be able to do for a while, and realized his arm was probably mostly healed. He decided not to mention that discovery to you as he went to go find you.

“Good morning.” You smiled at Peter when he walked into your kitchen.

“It’s a very good morning. Hi.” He smiled back as you handed him a cup of orange juice.

“Sit. Eat. I can cut it for you if you need.” You offered as you put a plate of pancakes in front of Peter.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” Peter smiled gratefully and picked up his fork. He went to pick up his knife and remembered his arm was in a cast.

“Hm.” He hummed when he realized his dilemma.

“Here. I got it.” You chuckled and took his fork. You cut Peters food up for him as he watched you with a dreamy smile. He’d never gotten this much attention from you before, or any girl for that matter. He was starting to think this broken arm was a gift from God.

“After breakfast, I can take you home and we can tell May together.” You offered as you got up and grabbed a spray bottle and a comb from the bathroom.

“Thank you. For everything. You’ve done so much already.”

“Please. I’ve barely done anything.” You scoffed and proceeded to wet his hair and then comb out his bed head. Peter turned to look at you with his newly styled hair and you sheepishly put the comb down.

“Okay. I see your point. I just like to take care of people. And I feel bad that you broke your arm. I’m sorry if I’m doing too much.” You explained as you sat back down.

“That’s okay. I’m not used to be taken care of like this. It’s kinda nice.” Peter admitted without looking at you.

“I think it’s nice too. To look after you.” You replied. You looked into each others eyes for a moment and exchanged a smile. Peter finished up his breakfast and got back into your car to go tell May what happened. As you explained to her everything the doctor had told you, all May could focus on was the pretty girl Peter had brought home.

“Wait, sorry, who are you?” May interrupted with an excited smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Y/n Stark. Peter works with my dad. He got hurt on patrol and my apartment was as close by.” You explained.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so glad Peter had such a lovely girl to take care of him. And that he knew where your apartment was. Because he’s been there before?” May asked and clasped her hands under her chin.

“Oh my God.” Peter groaned and hung his head. “It’s not like that, May.”

“Peter’s a friend.” You chuckled. “But I was happy to look after him.”

“Well I appreciate that. And I know he does too. He talks about you all the time, you know. I just didn’t realize it was you. He didn’t tell me how pretty you were.” May added.

“May.” Peter said warningly.

“Oh, thank you.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I should probably get going. See you later, Peter.”

“She’s cute.” May said once you were gone.

“She is. But you’ll probably never see her again because you just scared her off.” Peter groaned.

“I don’t know. Don’t think I don’t see that signature on your cast. It’s gonna take a lot more than an overbearing aunt to scare that girl off.” May said coyly.

“Wait, you really think so?” Peter asked.

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t go to that length for just a friend.” May shrugged. A smile crossed Peters face as it occurred to him this broken arm might have been exactly what he needed to get you to like him back.

Peter walked into campus next day with his cast in a sling. He went to the table he usually sat at between classes and saw Ned already sitting there.

“Hey dude. You never texted me back last- OH MY GOD.” Ned screamed and pointed when he saw the cast.

“Calm down. I’m okay. I just broke my arm.” Peter said with a huge smile.

“Uh, why do you seem so happy about it?”

“Because Y/n Stark took care of me.” Peter whispered excitedly as he sat down.

“Wait, Tony Starks daughter?” Neds eyes widened. “What?! How?”

“I couldn’t swing so I had to go to the nearest apartment I could find, which was hers. She drove me to the hospital and got me clothes while I was in surgery. Then she brought me home and let me sleep at her place.” Peter explained.

“You slept at a girls place?” Ned’s jaw dropped as he grabbed Peters shoulders.

“I know! I wish you could’ve seen it, Ned. She was so worried about me so she did everything for me. I’m talking combing my hair, cutting my food, she even helped me get dressed. Honestly, I think she might like me.”

“That’s hilarious.” Ned laughed. “Good thing you didn’t break your funny bone. Oh my God, wait, did you?”

“No, dude. I’m serious. You should’ve seen her. She was all over me in a way she never has been before. I think this broken arm is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Peter!” Your voice came from behind Peter so he and Ned turned around in confusion.

“Woah. What’s she doing here?” Ned asked and shook Peters arm.

“I have no idea.” Peter replied as a smile broke out on his face.

“Hi. I hope it’s okay I showed up like this.” You said as you sat down beside Peter.

“It’s totally okay. I’m happy to see you.” Peter said and leaned on his good arm to stare at you.

“I know it must be hard to do things for yourself with only one hand, so I thought I would bring you lunch. My dad mentioned that you always eat all the peanut butter when you’re at the tower so I made you a PBJ. Do you like those?” You asked him.

“I love them. Thank you so much. This is so nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.” Peter said and touched your arm.

“It’s okay. I wanted to. I also cut you up some apple slices and packed a juice box.” You said and showed Peter was else was in the lunch bag you had brought.

“No way! I love apple juice.” Peters eyes lit up when he saw the juice. He reached for him but you put your hand on his arm.

“I got it.” You smiled at Peter and put the straw into the juice box. You then held the juice box up so that he could sip it, all while Ned watched in disgust.

“Oh my.” Ned mumbled.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” You asked Peter.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I figured since you can’t go on patrol while you’re healing, you could come hang with me at the tower. My dads been working on some new technology and I think you’d be a great help.”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds awesome.” Peter grinned and nodded his head.

“Oh, good. You said yes.” You smiled timidly. “I could pick you up after class?”

“Sure. I get out at 4:25.”

“I’ll be here. See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm and got up to leave.

“Did you see that? This arm is a goldmine! She’s never been this interested in me!” Peter exclaimed once you were gone.

“No girl has!” Ned said with equal excitement.

“This is even better than the spider bite. I hope I never heal.” Peter sighed happily and looked at his cast.

“Can I sign it?” Ned asked and fished in his backpack for a pen.

“Of course.” Peter smiled and moved his cast towards Ned. Ned gently held Peters arm in place and tried to write on the top of his cast above his elbow.

“Ugh, it’s too curved. Can you flex so I can get a solid surface?”

“No, I can’t flex my broken arm. And your name is just three letters. Is it really that hard?”

“I wanted to draw the blue amongus guy. Please?” Ned whined.

“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes and flexed his arm the bets he could to give Ned a flat surface. When he did this, the cast cracked in half and fell in two pieces onto Peters lap. Chalk from the inside filled the air, making Peter and Ned cough as they waved it away.

“Oh shit.” Peter said and flexed his arm back and forth. Sure enough, it was perfectly healed.

“Dude!” Ned coughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that.”

“My arm is healed. Damn it!” Peter groaned and slammed his now healed arm on the table.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ned asked as he drew an amongus character on one of the halves of Peters cast.

“No. My broken arm was the one thing making Y/n pay attention to me. Without it, she’ll want nothing to do with me.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

“Maybe you could break your other arm?” Ned suggested. “Or both arms?

“I’m not gonna break my arm on purpose. That’s too crazy. I just need a new cast.” Peter said as he began to brainstorm.

“Maybe not. Maybe you just need some tape.” Ned said as he held the two halves of the cast together. Peter looked at the two halves and smiled as he formed a plan.

Peter texted you that he’d meet you at the tower instead so that he could rush home to work on his plan. When you opened the tower door to greet him, the first thing you noticed was that his cast had been wrapped in duck tape down the middle that was then colored with a blue sharpie. You could see spots of wet Elmer’s glue around the obvious crack, despite the sling Peter had placed the arm in.

“Hi!” He greeted you.

“Hey, you. What happened to your cast?” You laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing. I just scuffed it a little.” Peter lied and pulled it deeper into the sling.

“Uh huh. Come in.” You chuckled skeptically and led him to the lab. You held the door open for Peter and noticed him touching it with his broken hand as he passed through. You were already skeptical and decided to play with him a little.

“This is so cool. Your dad never lets me in here.” Peter said as he looked around the lab in awe.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Come sit.” You smiled innocently and patted a chair at the lab table that wasn’t pulled out. Peter pulled it out with his broken hand and sat beside you. You eyed him curiously and he gave you an awkward smile. You decided not to expose him just yet and let him help you with a few things around the lab for an hour. He was beyond excited just to be there and you didn’t want to ruin it just yet.

“Can you figure out this formula for me?” You asked and handed Peter a marker.

“Sure.” He smiled and went to the whiteboard. He started writing with his broken hand and you watched with an amused smile.

“You should probably use your other hand.” You said, making Peter freeze.

“Oh. Right.” Peter forced a laugh. “I keep forgetting it’s broken. Which it definitely is. You saw it.”

“I did see it. Does it still hurt?” You asked and touched the sling.

“Oh yeah.” He lied. “Real bad.”

“Aw. Poor baby.” You pouted and brushed some hair off his face. Peter gulped and blushed under your touch as he made a fist with his broken hand. You noticed him moving his supposedly broken hand and decided to tease him a little.

“You know, it’s really a shame your arm is broken.” You said and took a step towards him.

“Why?”

“Because we have the place to ourselves. We could’ve had a little fun together. But obviously we can’t, with your broken arm and all.” You replied and watched his face carefully for a reaction.

“A little fun?” Peter gulped again as you got even closer.

“You know….” You smiled coyly and walked your fingers up his arm.

“No.” Peter swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. You’re telling me you haven’t dreamed of fooling around in one of the giant rooms in this place?” You asked and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And you’re saying that’s what we would be doing? If my arm was healed?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“Uh huh. Too bad it’s not.” You sighed dramatically and took a step back. Peter looked down at his fake broken arm and contemplated telling the truth.

“Yeah. That’s too bad.” He mumbled.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Catch.” You said and tossed a paper weight at him. Peter caught it with ease in his broken hand, making his cast break in half again. You raised your eyebrows as Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

“Shit.” He whispered.

“Don’t feel bad.” You chuckled. “I knew you were faking it the second you walked in.”

“You did?” Peter sighed and pulled the cast and sling off.

“Come on, Peter. Duct tape?”

“I know. I’m not a craft boy.” Peter admitted with defeat.

“I can tell. So what’s with the fake cast?” You wondered as you folded your arms.

“The first one was real. I swear. But it healed quicker then I thought it would and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Then why would you tape the cast around your healed arm?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know it was healed.” Peter mumbled, just barely audible but you still heard it.

“What?” You laughed. “Why not?”

Peter sighed again before looking into your eyes. You looked at him expectingly and he knew there was no way out of this.

“Because then you won’t hang out with me anymore.” He said with a sad smile.

“What?” Your smiled faded as your arms dropped.

“Before I broke my arm, I had trouble getting you to even look my way. But that night in your apartment, I never lost your attention. Not even once. And then you showed up at my school and met my friend and I guess I liked that so much that I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. So I taped my cast back together to keep your attention a little longer. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, I didn’t do all those things because you have a broken arm. I did them because I like you.” You said as walked back towards him.

“You do?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Even though I have two normal arms?”

“It’s something I’m willing to look past.” You smiled teasingly. Peter smiled back before winced and gripping his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I kinda triggered the injury when I broke the cast.” He grimaced and moved his shoulder in a circle.

“Aw. Do you want me to kiss it better?” You laughed sarcastically.

“Yeah. Can you?” Peter replied with equal sarcasm and held up his arm. You moved his arm down away from his face and leaned in to kiss him. Once Peter processed what was happening, he was able to kiss you back. He wrapped his now healed arm around your waist to pull you in, feeling the dull ache he got from moving it but deciding it was worth it.

“Any better?” You asked once you pulled away.

“Much.” Peter smiled and went to kiss you again.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

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@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[silverfoxstole]

Some of you out there may remember that when I finished my Night of the Doctor coat and waistcoat a few weeks ago I wasn’t entirely happy with the result; the coat was fine but I didn’t like the way the waistcoat turned out and I needed a better pair of trousers. Consequently, I’ve made a few adjustments which I think makes the whole thing look more together, and as I have the house to myself at the moment I took the opportunity to take some pics:

As part of my autumn sewing I’ve made some taupe jeans which are a big improvement on the brown cords I pulled out of the wardrobe when I took the pictures for the original post. Handily I also found a belt my sister had discarded; it doesn’t have the right clasp but it adds to the general look I think.

As you can see I tried it all on with both the waistcoats I made. Though I can’t use my pocket watch with the first one because the welts are false I do much prefer the style of it; I used a men’s pattern without alteration for the other one and as is pretty obvious below it doesn’t fit properly and I don’t really like it. The neckline is too narrow, it sticks out at the bottom and the fabric was just too bouncy to work properly. The first one (I think anyway) looks much better:

It is my intention to make a third (and hopefully final) waistcoat, altering the pattern on the left slightly by raising the opening to add another button, reducing the width of the collar and possibly levelling it off at the front depending on how a toile looks. I found a couple of possible fabrics (not brocade this time!) and I will definitely not be using satin for the back and lining which should hopefully make it more stable and less prone to disintegration while I’m sewing it.

I’m not entirely sure why I’m spending so much time on this as I haven’t been to a con in years and therefore the chances of my ever wearing it all together outside the house are probably less than zero, but I suppose it’s the perfectionist in me that wants to get it right even if I’m the only one who’s going to know!

[neopuppy]

Angel Baby (M)

pairing. alpha Jaemin x pregnant female omega reader

genre. *gasp* and they were neighbors AU, non-traditional ABO, single & pregnant y/n, fluff, smut, M/F

warnings. profanity, alpha/omega dynamics, ‘pup’ instead of ‘baby’, possible inaccuracies(writer has absolutely never been pregnant), pregnancy aches & cravings, smut warnings under cut. minors DNI.

wc. 8000

now playing. angel baby//Troye Sivan

smut warnings. unprotected sex, pregnant sex, lactation, use of ‘mama’ and ‘mommy’, breast fondling, fingering, oral, slick, painful orgasm(for Jaemin), etc

a/n. wanted to title this fic Orgasm Donor sooooooo bad, but tumblr whack these days

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

“You know even though this is my first pregnancy, it’s not that bad.” You proudly nod, dipping another blue cheese filled olive into a cup of hazelnut spread. “I haven’t even been having those weird cravings everyones always going on about.”

Jaemin stops working on setting up his old coffee machine, shifting his gaze to watch you pop another olive coated with sweet cream in your mouth before you struggle to open a jar of pickles. “No weird cravings?”

“Nope.” You shrug, smiling triumphantly only to quickly fall into a frown as you squeeze around the jar more without budge. 

He hums, twisting around to grab the jar from your hands and open it himself, nodding and smiling as he passes it back to you. You thank him, whispering that you could have opened it before continuing to munch and dunk a pickle into the spread and proceed to pour coconut shavings on it. “That’s a good thing. What about that uh, morning sickness?”

“Haven’t really had that either.” You murmur between bites, lifting your hand to cover your mouth, your other reaching to rub your stomach. “Means I’m going to have a very sweet and calm pup.”

“How’s your back feeling today?” He asks, thinking about how you’d hissed and made a pained face yesterday while trying to pick up a basket of laundry. 

“Oh it’s..” putting on a smile, you wave him off. “—It’s fine, the doctor said my last trimester would be the hardest on my body.”

Jaemin turns back around to set the water cartridge in place for the coffee machine. He wants to add that your doctor also recommended staying off your feet, massages since you need to avoid hot water, and while it may be uncomfortable- try to stay off your back while sleeping. You always managed to change the subject whenever he attempted to mention a spa day to pamper yourself, or even offered his own hands to knead your tired feet.

“Offer still stands.” He reminds you, running the machine to clean it out. It’s only fair he sets it up anyway. It’s for him, since he’s been staying at your apartment longer than his own these days. “What about your Gochujang cravings?”

You instantly shy away, hiding your face to your shoulder demurely. The reminder of why and how Jaemin’s become such an integral part of your daily life always makes you feel embarrassed. “The tub I stole from you is nearly empty.”

“I’ll have to get you more next time I go to the store.”

Jaemin, while fond of the memory, also recalls it with embarrassment. It was 3 in the morning when he heard repeated light knocks that quickly escalated to heavier more determined knocks. He stumbled out of bed reaching for a hoodie to throw on and cover up his bare chest, slowly trudging down the hallway from his bedroom to the front door. “Yeah yeah, hold on.”

With half asleep swollen eyes he opened the door to find you frantic, eyes blown wide and your hands clasped together under your stomach smiling at him nervously. “I’m so so so sorry about this.”

He quickly snapped awake upon seeing your panicked expression, standing up straight and rubbing his sleep tired eyes. “It’s fine, seriously. Is it the pup?? Are you okay??”

“No no, pups fine..” you trail off, laughing anxiously. “My grocery order was missing a few items and you see.. I’m eating some apples, a little late night snack..”

Jaemin nods confused, relieved that your water didn’t break early or something. “My delivery person refunded the Gochujang I ordered. I guess they were out at the store.” You explain, feeling silly and terrible at the same time for waking your neighbor over this. You hardly even know him beyond the first run-in you had the day you moved in. “I was just wondering if maybe you have any to spare? If not it’s okay. I’m seriously sorry, I thought about texting you, but I don’t have your number.” 

He perks up at the mention of Gochujang, squinting at the idea of needing chili pepper paste for your apples. “I do have some actually. I just went to the market a few days ago. Here, why don’t you come in for a minute while I grab it.”

“Are you sure? I can just be on my way, and bring you back the container tomorrow..”

“No no, it’s fine.” He yawns, motioning for you to follow him to the kitchen. “So, apples and Gochujang?”

“It’s sooo good, the hint of spice really pairs well with the crunch.” 

“Should you be eating something this spicy, uh, right now?” He questions, wondering if that’s good for a baby, mentally noting to look that up online later.

“Oh, I love a little spice.” You nod, looking him over now under the kitchen light. “Nice sweater..”

Jaemin makes a confused sound, shutting the fridge to look down at himself with a container of Gochujang in hand. “Oh..” he tries to smile when you snort, rubbing his free hand down the large bold black letters reading ‘Orgasm Donor’ on the white hoodie. “It was a joke gift from my friends.. I didn’t uh..”

“Is it true?” You ask coyly, glancing away when he looks at you surprised.

“Is what true?” He retorts, not awake enough to catch the way you grin and shyly bite your thumb nail.

“Are you charitable?”

He’s struck for a minute, blinking slowly in disbelief that the cutest pregnant Omega he’s ever seen is currently standing in his kitchen at 3 in the morning desperate for chili paste to eat with her apples flirting with him? The same Omega he watches waddle through the halls after picking up her mail leaving behind the softest traces of fresh whipped creamy milk? The same one he couldn’t help but notice had no mating mark adorning her long beautiful much too bare neck? 

Peering bewildered from the front of his hood back to you more than a few times, he gapes like a fish, lifting up the tub of Gojuchang. “Yeah, anything you need, I’m always an apartment away. I work from home now too so don’t worry about showing up whenever you want, I’ll give you anything you want.” He says too eagerly, stepping forward with a smile. “Like this chili paste.”

What are the chances you show up at his door like a glowing dream, leaving your warm milky scent behind that softly carries him back to his dreams. Dreams full of you, your smile when he passes by, the cute way you struggle to bend over and frown because your belly has just gotten too big.

He could tell after that you needed more help than you were willing to let on, especially by the number of packages showing up at your doorstep varying from small to way too large for you to be handling on your own.

“Hey, remember when I said you can come to me for anything?” He said approaching you attempting to push a new extra large package through your door. “I meant anything, consider me your new delivery man, alright?”

“Ah, you really don’t have to. I still owe you for the Gojuchang..” the same paste you shamelessly never returned- that Jaemin would never ask you to bring back anyway. 

“You don’t owe me anything.” He always made sure to reassure you with a large smile, removing his shoes as he entered your apartment and asked for directions.

“It’s a new drawer for the baby.” You said, motioning toward the spare bedroom you’d begun to decorate. From that day he refused to let you handle any furniture building on your own, to the point that he felt invasive for barging into your life this way. 

The few comments you made here and there gave him enough hint that you’re on your own. No Omega soon to give birth should be alone, this is one of the most vulnerable times you will ever experience in your life. Besides, he likes helping you. He loves to hear you gasp when he effortlessly picks up the new crib you ordered, loves to hear your comments about how strong he is. Loves to still have your scent swarming around his head when he returns back to his apartment, and he really really loves being around you.

That’s why a coffee machine in your apartment has become necessary. After a quick shower and brushing his teeth, he’s already on the way out, taking a few short steps to your place.

“Good morning.”

It’s become your normal day, sitting around on the couch watching lamaze videos as you practice your breathing. Jaemin’s changed his schedule around to fit your lifestyle. You have no idea how you got lucky enough to move in next door to a not only ridiculously handsome and helpful Alpha, but an extremely polite and giving one at that. 

The nurses at your clinic always blush and giggle while he waits for you, drooling over the good looking built Alpha without a trace of mating mark on his skin. They’ve made a few comments to you, curious about him, curious about your relationship with him.

He’s not your Alpha, even if your Omega has started to believe so. How can you not with his constant concern for your wellbeing? The random gifts he brings to you, trying to pass them off as something he saw on his way home even though you saw the packages waiting at his door. He’s really been there for you, more caring than any Alpha you’ve been with before; including the absent one-night stand you had that wanted nothing to do with you when you contacted him to let him know. 

Sure, the predicament you’ve ended up in isn’t the best, but as you fold new onesies and put away matching pacifiers you can’t find the will to be upset with your decision, even if this isn’t the way you imagined your future to unfold.

“How are you feeling today?”

He’s been repositioning the furniture that’s already set-up in the pups future room, finding where you’d like the crib to be placed before working on building your new items. “Still having trouble sleeping?”

Yes, sleeping has been rather difficult. It’s been months now since your last heat. 9 months to be exact, landing yourself where you are now after the wild excursions your last put you through. Throwing up, swollen feet, random cravings, and an aching back can’t nearly compare to how insanely frustrating it is to lose sleep. The push and pull happening between your thighs to your brain always hits at night. It started after the month you first moved in, the dreams that had you waking up soaked with slick.

Your physician had explained that they would only get worse, seeing as Omegas typically have an Alpha to handle those issues. The pregnancy suppressing your heat in turn makes your hormones 100 times worse. 

And that is where Jaemin comes in, you tried to avoid him and keep your distance, but he’s just too damn nice. Making it impossible to turn down the Alphas unwarranted help, never asking anything of you in return, he simply wants to help.

After that night of craving chili paste, you solemnly patted your way back to your apartment, pathetically frowning at the tub of Gochujang you’d been craving.

Orgasm Donor?!? You could scream! The sexiest Alpha you’ve ever seen right next door in nothing but his boxers and a ridiculous sweater, it took all of the strength you could muster up from the moon Goddess herself to clamp your thighs shut and strain your muscles to not drip slick right there in his kitchen. 

The Alpha had to know by now how dizzy his presence alone makes you. Having to sit down whenever he steps foot inside of your place, you sigh, biting down on your lip to not drool over how tight his shirt is today. Each movement flexing the strong muscles lining his broad back too visible. Even after being bred enough to get pupped you can’t control how crazy your hormones have made you feel these last couple of months. No amount of balancing tea or vitamin in the world can quell the need to get absolutely fucked by the strong Alpha taking up space in your future nursing room.

“Still bad I take it?” He says before you can respond, too lost in your thoughts to realize how long you’ve been staring off fantasizing about all the ways he could take you.

“Does it show?” You ask self consciously, rubbing your stomach to comfort yourself. 

“Huh?” He turns, noticing that you’re playing with your hair, bringing it closer to your face. “Oh no no, you look as cute as ever.” He smiles that same charming toothy smile he always has specifically for you. “I just meant, y’know I worry about you getting enough sleep. I was reading and it’s important you get at least 10 hours minimum.”

“10 hours is wayyy too much..” you laugh, rubbing under your eyes trying to remember how bad your dark circles looked this morning. 

“I can definitely help you fall asleep.” He says casually, not understanding how feral your Omega is. The little voice inside of you growling and lunging forward to escape with a ‘bet you can’. How much longer can you really endure having this Alpha around before you make headlines.

PREGNANT WOMAN CHOMPS THROUGH HER NEXT DOOR NEIGHBOR ALPHAS BICEPS, CLAIMS HER HORMONES GOT THE BEST OF HER!

How humiliating. If only he understood your true despair stems from him and how rabidly horny he’s gotten you.

“How does this work? You’ll be sleeping in your bedroom while the pup stays in here, or will you be ruining your back on this chair?”

Jaemin asks nonchalantly, carrying on the conversation you’ve been checking in and out of. Quietly humming to himself as he positions a cushion on the seat of the rocking chair he’s been working on assembling for the last hour. He definitely took longer than what he’d estimated in his mind when you mentioned your new crib and chair arriving today. Not that he’d ever admit that he wanted to scream after 10 minutes of searching for one screw that the instructions called for. He’s sure the crib will take another two hours to set up after this(if he’s lucky), biting back a sigh to not catch your attention the more he thinks about it.

“I think for nap time it’d be best to get the pup used to this room, I’m sure I’ll struggle to not sleep by his side every night at first..” you admit shyly, cupping under your stomach and rubbing over the round exterior. He wants to agree that there’s no way a newborn pup would want to leave your side; not with the way your face lights up whenever kicks beat against your stomach or when he brings you back from your doctor visits listening to all the exciting future plans you have lined up.

“It’s probably not my place to say, but you shouldn’t fall asleep in here much. This chairs not that comfortable..” he frowns, testing out the rocking motion. “I’m sure we can find another crib that could fit in your bedroom..”

“Another crib is a bit out of my budget right now.”

“Don’t worry about that.” He grins, standing up to tap the large cardboard box you’re perched on. “Isn’t that what baby showers are for? I’m sure your family has already stocked up on things to gift you.”

Ah, a baby shower. Of course, how could you fail to mention that neither of your parents have spoken to you since the day you showed up at their doorstep 3 months pregnant, unmated and out of wedlock. “Ah, you—you have a point.” You mumble nervously. “You’ve been at this for a bit, I’ll get the coffee brewing.”

“Coffee sounds great right now.” Jaemin says, helping you stand up without releasing your hands until he deems your ankles steady enough to walk on your own. “You know how I like it.”

“Four shots of espresso over ice?” 

“Exactly.” He winks your way, beginning to unbox the crib you’d shown him a few weeks ago. Some fancy overpriced one imported from Italy, a dream according to what you had said while he sat with you as you browsed through various baby decor online shops.

He really wanted to ask what the hell ever happened to Babies ‘R Us, recalling his days working across the street from one, but you looked too happy smiling wide as you showed him the different canopy designs and various woods used to customize each one.

“It’s perfect for a boy, don’t you think?”

Ah, these are really questions you should be asking your Alpha.. if you had one. His lips draw down, peeling open the cribs manual to divide and separate each piece into small sections to start working out. 

It’s hard to believe an Alpha, any Alpha period could just up and leave their Omega to raise a child alone. Jaemin can’t forget the first day you moved in and struggled to drag your belongings down the hallway corridor creating an unnecessarily noisy ruckus outside of his apartment. He stormed out ready to curse you to hell for waking him up, having come home from the gym late the night prior and hoping to catch a few more Z’s that morning. The shout ready to exit his lips hung in the air upon seeing you nearly tip over and let a bag full of clothes spill onto the floor instead of risking the chance to fall and land on your stomach.

You had to have been only a few months along at the time, barely showing a small bump. You hadn’t spotted him yet as you stood there looking over your neatly folded clothes falling apart and making a big mess to clean up. Stress and exhaustion pulled at your soft glowing face, slowly sliding down to your knees to throw everything back in the bag you’d been carrying.

He contemplated speaking up, opening and shutting his mouth as he watched a tear slip down your cheek, swallowed past the seam of your lips. Anyone with half a brain would be able to read the room and assume you weren’t in the best situation given your state at the time. Still he couldn’t help but take in your pretty skin, glossy eyes batting away more tears from pouring, and the small pout permanently etched on your lips as you gathered your things.

“Here, let me help.” He said, deciding to bend over and grab your bag as you shoved in the last of your clothes. To your surprise, you glanced up, jaw hanging as you started to shake your head. “New neighbor?”

Everything progressed slowly from that moment. Sure, at first it was all a coincidence how often he’d find you having a hard time carrying packages from the mail, out of breath lugging your groceries from your car, cursing loudly whenever you’d burnt dinner and set off your fire alarms. He can’t deny making an effort after your first month next door to check in on you, whether you asked for help or not. Especially after the night you showed up begging for chili paste. Without being too intrusive he picked up on hints, figuring out that the Alpha that got you pregnant was clearly no longer a part of your life.

Instinctively he had to do what any respectable Alpha would willingly want to do. Helping you through these past 5 months has been entertaining to say the least. There’s a bit of charm to your silly nature, to how often you whine and complain about your feet getting wider, your back hurting, the odd cravings that hit in the middle of the night. The ones you still deny are cravings, he snorts thinking about that.

Jaemin’s had more fun getting to know you than he has had with some of his long term relationships, even turning down potential Omegas to spend weekends with you. Someone has to be here to make sure you don’t burn your spaghetti again..

And there’s a possible chance he’s developed some feelings, feelings beyond friendship. Could just be his Alpha viewing you as his mate, watching your stomach grow and expand every week does drive him a little crazy, just a tad. 

“Hmm,” realizing he’s been reading the same paragraph over and over again without registering any instructions, he looks around and sits up. You’ve definitely been gone for longer than 10 minutes by now..

“How’s that coffee coming along?” He asks, jogging down the hall, feet hitting the brakes as soon as he makes it to the end. “Shit.”

“I—I don’t know what happened.” You cry, hands shaking above a broken mug and spilled dark liquid.

“Are you hurt?!” He rushes forward, falling to a squat to reach for your arms, hands pausing mid-air. “Oh my God..”

“I’m—I’m sorry, please don’t look..” you whine, hunching in to hide your breasts. It’s useless to try, completely leaked through your shirt leaving your pert nipples completely visible through the thin soaked material clinging to your ample chest. 

“You’re—“ Jaemin stutters, swallowing a thick wad of saliva, mouth going dry at once as the sweet creamy scent of breast milk swirls around his tonsils. “I need t-to help you.”

“S’ok, I got it..” 

“No no, come on.” He gulps, gently grabbing a firm hold on your waist to bring you back up with him. Against his insane willpower, he has to look. He has to lower his gaze and focus on how your breasts bounce as you find your balance. They’re so full, look painful and ready to burst. He’d read about this.. how Omegas can begin to lactate months prior to giving birth depending on how often they typically go into heat. He thought informing himself of all the possibilities would make everything much less daunting, but there’s no way to deny how fucking good the scent rolling off your warm flesh tastes as it seeps through his senses. 

And when you regain your balance, reaching behind yourself to grab at the kitchen counter ledge, your chest shoves out even more, inadvertently spurting milky liquid from your nipples. He tries to keep his scent calm, tries to look away, tries to stop his fingers from itching to cup and squeeze out more. But fuck everythings hitting at once, spiking his scent, thrumming through his cock until it twitches against the inside of his sweats.

He should be ashamed, ashamed for objectifying this vulnerable moment, for imagining his lips sucking around your leaking buds, dragging the material of your shirt past his mouth to suck it clean.

“Alpha..” you moan, shattering any ounce of guilt he felt. Snapping his gaze to your face he nearly crumbles at your wet parted lips, the tears clinging to your lower lashes. 

“I know Mama.” He agonizes, tightly gripping your waist as he works to take deep breaths through his mouth and blow out slowly, averting his gaze away from your body. “L-let me help you change.”

The last time he can recall feeling this feral had to have been the day before he woke up in his first rut. He’d been at the gym working up a sweat, arms on fire by the time he exited the weight training room and decided to end with cardio. Plans went astray when he neared a treadmill to hop on and looked around only to realize the gym had to have been full of Omegas. Omegas perspiring a damn storm judging by the way the aroma of sweet honey caramel skin and lush petals of Jasmine slapped him across the face. He had to leave after a minute to calm himself, head dizzy and feet off balance as he made his way to the lockers to melt away his perverse thoughts.

Even the hard-on he suffered to jerk off that night could not compare to how painfully his cock aches right now. Throbbing faster than a rapid heartbeat, he even fears his dick could burst if he has to swallow anymore of your scent, if he can’t rip his gaze away from your perky delectable nipples.

“Alpha, I’m hot.”

Fuck. You are. You’re so hot. He nods, unrealizing that he’s agreeing, not even noticing how scorching hot your skin feels through the material of your shirt. “T-think I should l-leave.” He says begrudgingly, feeling like a failure, a coward.

“Please.”

That’s it. That’s all it takes to strip away the last bit of self control he could come up with. It wasn’t much anyway, the mixture of your breast milk and delicious pregnant scent combined could send him straight into an impromptu rut. “A-are you sure?” 

He licks at his plump lips, leaving a film of saliva over his naturally pink pout that makes your thighs squeeze together. Even with shards of broken mug too close to your feet and the pungent smell of coffee wafting between you, all you can think about is how big the Alpha is. He’s so big in front of you right now, bringing your need to feel small and taken care of to light. The independence you’ve convinced yourself of all dissipating with his large hands rubbing up and down your sides, arms flexing from the tense struggle running through his body.

“What should I do mama? Hmm? I need to clean you up.” The fear he had of taking the next giant leap of a step with you quickly exits, furrowing his eyebrows as he takes in your sobbing pretty face. He’s used that nickname a few times before, always sending shivers up your spine, but it’s worse now. The sugary tone he speaks to you in, so cute, striking each nerve as he moves you to the counter to get your bare feet away from the mess.

“Please Alpha, I feel..” thick arms wrap around your waist, laying his forehead gently on yours. 

“Tell me where it hurts.”

It’s too hard to say anything with the tremors his question releases throughout your body, searching for his hand to slide it down past your stomach between your legs where slick has already started to seep through your leggings. “Here.”

“Fuck.” He hisses, biting down on his teeth. “You’re making me crazy, you know that?”

“S-sorry,” you hiccup, squeezing around his hand cupping your middle. “That’s w-where—hurts..”

He tsks, shoving inside your bottoms to drag his fingers through the wad of slick gathered between your folds. It’s so much, leaking out profusely, covering his palm and wrists as he slides in deeper to tease your hole. “Messy, so damn messy mama.”

“Ah, d-don’t!” You croon, eyes welling up with tears from the relief of finally having your pussy touched by someone other than yourself. Harder and harder to reach past your stomach most nights, you succumb to whimpering into your pillow frustrated, fantasizing that your neighbor would hear your distress and gallop in on a horse like your knight in shining armor. “Don’t call me t-that.”

“No?” He frowns, nose brushing yours. “But your pussy tightens up around my fingers so good when I do, mommy.”

“Alpha! Ugh!” Dropping your neck, you let out a long winded cry. Panting short of breath from his thumb working furiously to harden your clit. “S’too—too dirty, p-please!”

“You’re right,” his tongue clicks, echoing around the kitchen. “You are still so so dirty mommy.”

With one arm he manages to lift your butt onto the counter, nodding for you to scoot on with a pat on your hip. He settles between your parted thighs, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Wait!” You panic, gripping around his wrists. “Don’t..don���t want you to see..”

“What??” Gasping surprised, he blinks confused, rubbing the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

“My body right now—“ you flush, darting your gaze away ashamed. “Don’t want you to see..

“Nonsense.” He snaps, using a firmer tone with you that you’re not accustomed to hearing. “You think this,” touching your stomach, he glides upward to cup and squeeze your breasts. “And this? Doesn’t make me feel rabid out of my damn mind to fuck you right here, break the laws of humanity and wolf alike, get you pregnant with my pup somehow?”

It’s the angriest he’s ever looked, wrinkled between his nose and eyebrows, glaring at his heavy palms kneading your breasts to make more milk trickle. “Fuck, I’ve tried so hard to know my place, to show you nothing but respect..”

“S-stop,” you gulp, letting go of his wrists to smooth up and squeeze his biceps, clawing your short nails into the muscles. “Disrespect me, please Alpha..”

Big round eyes stare at you full of shock, taking in how you bite on your lip shyly. The trickles of milk so creamy and thick, spilling down his hands to his flexed forearms. “One thing I’ll never do—“ pressing in, he licks at your Cupid’s bow, long eyelashes blinking against your cheek. “Is disrespect you.”

The sound of your shirt ripping open has you gasping, sinking your nails deeper into his muscles. “But since you asked so fucking nicely.”

He gets the message quickly as you reach for the collar of his shirt and pull hard enough to stretch the fabric, quickly stepping back to strip it off and fully display his well built shoulders and chest. The gurgle from your throat that follows pleases him, returning your hands to feel every inch of new muscle you weren’t familiar with. His mouth is too thirsty, salivating as he takes your full breasts again without anything to hide your swollen nipples and admires them for less than a minute. Lapping at his wet lips as he shoves between your cleavage, licking up the remnants of dried and fresh milk with a deep groan.

Fuck. It’s incredible, nothing he’s ever tasted before. Sweet nectar that can only pour from a fertile breedable Omega built to birth healthy pups. Every sense and nerve in his system lights on fire, digging his face between your ample chest despite your cried moans. It’s bliss, more intense and real than anything, shoving his tongue between your tits to fuck the small gap. 

“Alpha!” 

Breast milk won’t stop running down his arms, opening his mouth wide to capture one of your hard nipples. The nub digs against the roof of his mouth, slurping down the cream as your other tit leaks akin to a broken faucet. “So fucking good mommy.” Jaemin says roughly, pulling away to look over your pleasured face. 

His lips swollen pink with a sheen milky layer, completely debauched as he goes in for more and attends to your other nipple. They swell up after many nibbles, gently digging his teeth into your firm buds. Each suck tastes sweeter than the last as your scent spikes and Omegan arousal swirls around him. The strong tones of milk mixing in with yours has his Alpha fanatic, jerking his hips against the kitchen counter for some type of friction on his cock.

“Alpha please, my pussy, please.” You ask too innocently, as if the activity that expanded your stomach out in the first place didn’t prove otherwise. He grunts for you to wait, shoving his face back in-between your bosom, jiggling the fleshy meat against his cheeks. If not for your hips jumping up he’d continue to assault your tits, spend hours playing with them until you have nothing else left to quench his insatiable thirst.

“Bet your pussy tastes just as sweet.” He grumbles, moving down onto his knees to pull off your leggings and panties in one go. “Fucking hell.” 

The amount of slick painted across your thighs and ass could compete with the local community pool, maybe even replenish a tiny village. His cock jump’s fiercely at the sight before him, lavving the residue of breast milk on his lips for a clean taste as he dives in. 

“Jaemin!” You shout, scrambling to grab onto something at the first stroke of the Alphas tongue prodding between your chubbed folds. The sounds he makes only add fuel to the fire, releasing more slick with each deep growl and bated panting breath.  

“Taste so damn good Omega,” he hums, enamored by how syrupy and powerful your scent slaps him across the face from between your thighs. Shuffling forward on his knees, he holds your thighs open to stretch his jaw wide and roll his tongue from your entrance to your clit, jolting your legs to kick the kitchen drawers with his skills.

Everything feels so good, spinning your mind around. The only frustration as you peer down is the sight of your round stomach completely hiding the Alphas lustful gaze and sloppy tongue. “Alpha, pleasepleaseplease!” sobbing, you kick at the drawers again. “Can’t see your face! C-can’t see!”

Jaemin shoots up at the sound of your affliction, eyes blown wide with concern as he reaches for your shoulders to sit you up. “Shh shh, I’m here.” He smiles, a disaster of slick covering his nose, lips and chin. “Look at me pretty mama.”

“Mmm..” reaching for his face, you smear the slick on his lips. “Messy.”

“Messy for you.” He kisses at your thumbs, sucking on the tip of one he captures. “Such a bad mommy, wants to watch her pussy get ate?”

Nodding feebly you move to stroke his neck, squeezing around. “Can’t see you down there..”

“Stay like this okay?” He instructs, pecking you, leaving slick on your chin. “Sit just like that, you’re doing so good for me mama.”

Setting your palms on the counter, he opens your thighs up a little wider, getting down into a squat to keep his head at level with your knees. “Keep your pretty eyes on me. Gonna make you feel good.”

His eyes stay on yours, one palm splayed on your thigh as his other reaches just under your navel. Stretching his neck back into an uncomfortable angle, his tongue hangs out, blinking up at you before diving back in to lap at your clit. Wide firm licks catch your sensitive folds, face rocking back and forth to really let you feel his tongue stroking between each crevice.

Big watery doll eyes stay facing up to watch you fall apart, scratching at the counter desperately to not reach for his hair to slam his face in deeper. Slippery hot stiff pressure teases under your clit, he keeps it there twitching the muscle until your hips start to rock forward and tears erupt from the corners of your eyes. The heat inside of your stomach pools, coiling up to your chest making it harder to breathe. He keeps at it for another minute until your eyebrows scrunch together. 

The lick he delivere to your clit sparks raging nerves up your spine, arching forward and nearly losing your balance on the counter to fuck his face. 

Dipping lower he finally plunges as much of his tongue as he can inside of you, slapping your inner thigh when you shout out in pleasure. The thick fat muscle rubs at your inner walls, sucking down the slick that tries to choke him out. Much like your breasts, he could spend hours just like this between your supple thighs, memorizing the way you fall apart and shake from every lap and stroke of his tongue.

Finally caving, you grip onto his hair, crying out brokenly. “I’m c-cum—“ his tongue disappears before you can complain, moving to stand and shove three fingers inside your cunt. “Ahhh!”

“Look at me mama, be good for Alpha.” He orders throatily, vocals thick and corded with slick. “Squeeze that pretty pussy around my fingers, give it to me.”

“Jaem—Alpha!” The heels of your feet slam against the drawers painfully, reaching for his wrist as he jerks the three digits stretching you open. Bicep rippling from the strength being used to shoot your release out around his relentless working fingers. “S’too—good.”

“God you cum so fucking pretty.” He sighs, gently drawing free to rub your clit while you twitch against him. Lips finding yours to calm your high with tender kisses.

“Come here pretty.” Jaemin says huskily, daring to scoop you up without a hitch, bare round stomach pressed to his smooth abs just enough to not apply pressure. He turns toward your living room, setting you down on the couch to grab a few pillows. “Here baby, let me make it comfortable for you.”

“Alpha..” you whine, still conscious of how big you must look on your back like this. He only smiles, bending in close to kiss your lips. 

“I can’t knot you, don’t want you to stay in this position too long.” He says, sweating through excruciating horny pangs shooting through his dick. 

“Please Jaemin, want you i-inside.” You beg much too prettily, pulling his lips back to bare his teeth. He wants to be gentle with you so badly, wants to focus on you and make you cum to your heart’s content. But God you aren’t making it easy.

“Only for a little, okay?” He says raggedly, hoisting you to sit leaned against the pillows to take pressure off your lower back and still make it easy to get between your legs. “If it’s too much I’ll stop.”

“Won’t be too much Alpha, need you so bad.” You say drowsily, still drunk from the orgasm his fingers and mouth ripped out of you. He nods, tugging on the string holding his sweats up, blushing when he sees the giant wet stain of pre-cum that’s leaked through the cotton fabric. “I should put a condom on.”

“I’m already knocked up.” You giggle, covering your face. “Don’t want anything between us.” 

Fuck. You’ll be the death of him talking like that. Pushing down his sweats, he gasps at how red the tip of his cock is, looking painful to the touch. There’s no way he’ll be able to last long enough to not pop a knot inside of you. 

“Alpha.” You whisper, angled perfectly in a half seated position to see how enraged his dick looks flush against his stomach. He doesn’t even have to stroke it, doesn’t want to out of fear of cumming before he even enters you.

“You sure about this?” He asks once more through gritted teeth, already lining the tip up to your entrance.

“Pl-lease.. haven’t gotten fucked in s-so long.” You hiccup, too excited, bending your neck in to watch his throbbing red cockead nudge against your hole.  

“Fuck! Ahh,” hissing, he gingerly grabs the base of his size, slowly pushing in until your cunt snaps around him. So tight, tight like you haven’t been fucked in months exactly as you just admitted. He’d fuck you so hard, make you take every inch until his dicks coming out of your nose. But now’s not the time, this isn’t about him no matter how hard the veins lining his length throb in disagreement. “Feel g-good?” He asks, licking at the sweat beading on his upper lip.

“M-more, please!”

He can’t do it, can’t push more than the tip in because it’d be too greedy. Even if he gets you off first it’d be too fucking greedy. As painful as it is to ignore the begging cries you let out, he opts to press down on your clit. Thumbing the stiff nub back and forth with short thrusts drawing the fat tip of his cock in and out enough to have a perfect view of your hole stretching around him. “So good, you’re doing so good for me mommy.”

“Alpha!” You twitch, lower back arching up starving for more. “P-please! Deeper!”

He wants to cave, give you everything you want, make you cum on his cock and bloat your stomach out even further with rivers of cum deep inside of you. “C-can’t.” He grits, grabbing onto your hips firmly to stop himself from thrusting in further. “D-don’t make me..”

“Need it! I need it!” You keep pleading, head tossed back with your wet spit slick lips parted open panting. “Fuck me! F-fuck me please! Put another baby in me!”

“Ahh, you c-can’t say that!” He growls in pain, digging the tips of his fingers into your hips hard enough to leave marks. You can’t say that, anything but that. “Mommy wants Alphas cum.” 

“Y-yes,” you whine, stroking down your stomach to direct his gaze beneath your navel. “Wanna feel you h-here, mommy wants it.”

“Shitshit,” that’s it, that’s enough to jerk his hips and push in another inch. How could you ask this of him? How could you act like such a sweet pilant breedable bitch, begging to get fucked and fucked until all you know how to do is get pupped. “Yeah, mommy wants it deep.”

His sack feels heavy as he plunges in the rest of his length inch by inch, slapping against your rim balls deep. “Get you pregnant again, keep you pupped up with my baby.” He rambles, focusing on not slamming his cock in like a wild animal. Having to squeeze his eyes shut to not cum when he sees your milk filled breasts bouncing up high enough to hit under your chin. “Fuckfuckfuck, you’re too much.”

He sounds so desperate, dying to ram into you faster with each rough grip on your hips. Pushing up off his knees, he squats to angle his cock in even deeper, making your lips fall open with a loud shouted moan. “Right t-there mama? Is that it? You want it there?” He asks, raspy and throaty, deep voice coming out from a deep torned place. 

“Alpha!” You stammer, spluttering the same words over and over again mindlessly. 

“Look at me,” he groans, bending in closer to cup your cheek and grind his hips. “W-wanna feel you cum on my cock. Gonna cum for me mama?”

“Fuck, ahh!” His thumb presses against your bottom lip, nodding with you as his other hand slips between your conjoined lower halves. Expert figure eights work more slick out making his cock slide in even easier if possible, wet and messy rivering down his inner thighs. 

“Cum for me, come on.” He growls, thrusting a little faster to chase your release. His balls slapping against the dip of your ass with each push in. The entirety of his length penetrates in and out, skyrocketing your pleasure by pinching your clit. Each flick and rub rushes heat through your stomach and chest, toes curling as you find his wide blown out eyes.

“F-fuck me, breed me full of cum.” You plead between gritted teeth, reaching to hold around his neck, suffocating the scream that rips from your chest. It’s been so long since you last had a release this strong, unable to even arch up with the weight of your stomach holding you down. You kick out and cry against his pouty lips, eyes rolling back.

“That’s it mommy,” he cries, eyes watering up as your walls squeeze the life from this dick and he has to do everything in his power to stop himself. His Alpha screaming at the top of its lungs to knot knot knot! Especially with the way you beg for it, the way your pussy swallows his dick whole and grovels to be knotted.

“Don’t p-pull out, please Alpha.” You sob, opening your hands in search of his. “Inside me, s-stay inside.”

“Ughh!” Jaemin can’t stop himself anymore, shoving his cock in to fill up to the brim with a few more sloppy thrusts. Reaching for your hands, he bends over bridging his upper half above yours. The muscles lining his stomach twitch and clench, sucking in at his navel as he draws his length out to the tip and the base of his cock expands. It’s more painful than he’d expected, his Alpha howling like a beast inside, gnawing through his facade of strength as tears pour down his cheeks. “Fuck. Fuck!”

He sniffles, cockhead still lodged inside your tight hole spurting out sticky cum that seems to satiate you judging by the long sigh you let out.

“Alpha..” you say drowsily, eyes half-lidded with the most serene smile looking back at him. “Sleepy.”

Nodding furiously, he kisses your hands before releasing your hold, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Pulling out okay? Need to clean you up.”

Jaemin hadn’t considered how difficult it would be to not bend at your will, having to tune out the way you whine for him to stay inside of you. His Alpha shouts and snarls, berating him for not listening to their Omega. 

He’s so fucked, already recognizing you as his mate without considering what you must feel right now, driven by your out of whack hormones and lust.

“Don’t leave me.” You pout, whining so pretty.

“I’m not going anywhere mama.” He reassures, leaning in to kiss your stomach. “But I need to get you cleaned off before you fall asleep, alright?”

He tries to make it quick, scrambling to fill up a bowl of warm water and grab a few washcloths. Can’t be fast enough when he jogs back to the living room to find your eyes fluttering open and shut. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll take you to bed.”

“Nooo,” you continue to whine, huffing petulantly. “Too heavy..”

“I bench 280, don’t doubt me.” He chuckles, shaking his head. Sitting by your side, he slowly cleans the mess of slick and cum that’s dripped down to your thighs and ass, patting the area dry. “How are you feeling?”

“Eepy.” 

He’d squeeze you if he wasn’t so happy to hear that you’re relaxed enough to possibly get a full night of sleep. Proudly smiling to himself as he finishes cleaning you off and bends closer to your face. “Time for bed.”

“Don’t leave me..”

He scoffs playfully, getting up to position you on top of his arms, squatting down to ensure he picks you up properly. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Mmm..” true to his word he carries you to your room without much struggle, softly laying you down on your bed and stumbling when you grab onto his arm and pull. “Stay here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop asking.”

He sighs, moving to the empty side of your bed, shoulders instantaneously losing the tense concern and worry he’d been holding onto. You can talk about this in the morning, or the afternoon, or at night, or never.

Maybe he can just accept that you both wanted this and more than anything he wants this. He wants to help you with your pup, take care of you after you give birth, help cook and clean, make sure you’re well fed after hours of trying to put your pup to sleep.

It can really be this easy, living here in this moment. In the safe comforting space of your small apartment that’s started to feel more like home than his own. Playing house with you has brought him more relief than hours at the gym.. long nights out partying.

He watches you get comfortable on your side, beginning to breathe in and out more shallowly.

“Jaem..”

“Hmm?”

“You’re staring.” You murmur, trying to hide a smile.

“I am.” Scooting in closer, he lightly rests a hand on your stomach. “I’m scared to ask, but this is okay, right?”

A cute growl emits from your chest, laying a hand over his. “I’ll let it slide, you do a real good job around here.”

“It’s okay, you can finally admit that you like me.” Letting out a long sigh, he nestles in closer, cheek resting on your chest. “I like you too.”

“Do you?”

“Is it standard for Alphas to cancel their plans every week to hang out with their pregnant Omega neighbor?” He hums, following your hand to rub your stomach. “Ah, what am I saying? I was all happy to get you to fall asleep and now I’m talking your ear off.”

He’s met with the light sound of breath, lifting his gaze to find you well past counting sheep. Adjusting to cradle your head better, he kisses your forehead. “Night night angel baby.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[joelsgreys]

softness

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: Joel’s a little unsure of doing skin to skin with his newborn daughter.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. established relationship. (TW) PREGNANCY. mentions of premature birth, minor descriptions of childbirth, mentions of birth weight, it is implied that reader is breastfeeding her baby, semi accurate medical journal research, girldad! Joel, mentions of scars (Joel), mentions of insecurities and anxieties, if i missed anything, please let me know! NO MENTION OF READER’S AGE. NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER. no physical description of child except for her hair color/type. very minimal editing.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: i had this outline sitting in my drafts and i decided to finally just write it out and post it. it ain’t much, but it’s honest work. it is part of the safe and sound universe.

She’d made her entrance into the world early.

About four or five weeks, the commune’s doctor thinks.

Without ultrasounds, it’d been a guessing game.

And a fucking terrifying guessing game at that.

For several months, all you could do was hope.

Hope for a smooth pregnancy.

Hope for a safe labor and delivery.

Hope for a strong, healthy baby.

When you went into labor earlier than the doctor had predicted you would, all of your hopes shattered, the pieces falling around you like shards of broken glass you couldn’t put back together even if you tried.

“No! No, it’s too soon! It’s too fucking soon!” you’d cried out, the sheer panic setting in and seeping into your bones as a warm, clear liquid dripped down the insides of your legs and pooled around your bare feet. You had been in the kitchen making Ellie breakfast and packing her lunch for school—one second you’re standing there in front of the food pantry debating with yourself on what vegetable to throw into the kid’s lunch bag with her sandwich and the next you’re calling out for help as an intense pressure nestled itself between your hips. It wasn’t until you heard a faint popping sound and then felt the gush of fluid between your thighs that you’d realized what was happening. An unmistakable first sign of labor, you’d experienced your water breaking. “This can’t be happening, it’s not time yet!”

Joel, who by some stroke of sheer stupid luck had the morning off from patrol duty, instructed Ellie to run upstairs and gather some clean clothes along with a pair of boots and the warmest coat you owned that still fit. November had brought along the first snowfall of the season—the frigid temperatures outside were anything but kind and the clinic was on the opposite side of the commune, a fifteen minute walk he wished you didn’t have to make in your condition. “I know this is real fuckin’ scary darlin’ but y’need to stay calm. I need you to stay as calm as possible. Y’think that you can do that for me, sweetheart?”

He’d been just as terrified, but he masked it well.

On the outside, he kept a calm, collected composure for your sake and for Ellie’s too, shoved aside his own fears so he could be the support you both needed, act as the glue that held yours and his little family unit together should anything were to happen. But on the inside, he was scared shitless, to say the least. He couldn’t be certain he would have the strength to hold himself together if something went wrong, if he lost you—or his unborn child.

Admittedly, it had taken him a few months to come to terms with the fact that he was going to be a father again at this stage in his life. The thought of him changing diapers at his age was one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around—but the moment he felt that first little flutter of movement one night as you lay curled up against his side fast asleep, something shifted. That night, he had stayed wide awake, his large hand splayed over your bare belly in hopes he would feel that little flutter again.

“Joel, I’m really fucking scared. What if it’s too early—”

“Baby, look at me.” He reached up and gently took your chin, holding it between his thumb and index finger as he coaxed your gaze to meet his own. “S’gonna be okay,” he’d assured you, softly. “If this is happenin’ now, it’s because she’s ready, alright?”

For a split second, that panic had ceased.

“She?”

Confused, Joel’s brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“You just referred to the baby as a she, Joel.”

“I did?���

“Yeah—just now.” You’d stared at him with curiosity and took a step back, cradling your belly in both of your hands. “Do you think we’re having a girl?”

Sheepishly, he had shaken his head at you.

“No, I just—m’sorry. I ain’t all too sure why I said that.”

He truly, honestly hadn’t.

It’d slipped before he could even think about it.

But his accidental slip had been right.

After thirteen hours of grueling labor in Jackson’s small clinic, you’d given birth to a little girl, the sound of her loud wailing filling the whole room like a sweet melody eliciting a sob of joy from you and a shaky sigh of relief from Joel.

“Holy shit, she’s here! She’s actually fucking here,” Ellie breathed, her eyes going wide. Her arms were still wrapped around one of your legs—despite you warning the teenager about what she would see, it hadn’t stopped her from volunteering her assistance in the childbirth process. She watched on in a mix of both fascination and disgust as Dr. Porter, a woman in her sixties who served as Jackson’s sole physician, lifted the infant and immediately placed her onto your bare chest to clean her off. “This has gotta be the grossest, most amazing fucking thing I have ever fucking seen in my life.” Gently, she set your leg down onto the bed before walking around it to stand beside Joel. His hand was stroking your hair, his dark eyes trained on his crying newborn daughter. It was the perfect moment for Ellie to run her mouth and tease, “You’re not gonna cry, are you, Joel? I’d think you’re a lot fucking tougher than that, old man.”

“Shut up,” he’d muttered under his breath, putting an arm around her and pulling her against his side. He almost couldn’t believe this was now his life—a life he would have never even known if he hadn’t flinched twenty years ago when he had pulled the trigger.

Though she’d been born a few weeks prematurely, Rosemary Miller was deemed to be healthy—a tad underweight, but nothing to be worried about just yet, according to Jackie, the commune’s nurse. At about four pounds, eleven ounces, Rosemary was the tiniest thing you’d ever seen and somehow even tinier when Joel would cradle her in the palms of his large hands. Despite the fact that you’d been reassured that the baby’s low birth weight was nothing to be alarmed about, you and Joel had been advised it was best if you didn’t take her home until she gained a few more ounces and tipped the a scale at what the books state is a normal birth weight of five pounds, eight ounces.

“We just would feel better if she were here at the clinic where we can closely monitor her weight,” Jackie had said upon seeing the crestfallen look on your face. “Besides, you tore a little and you need time to heal as well, you know.”

Left with very little choice, you’d agreed to it.

“I’m losing it,” you say with an exasperated sigh as you stare up at the drab, gray ceiling. It’s been three days since you had given birth and all you want to do is take your daughter home. In an effort to lift your spirits, Maria had tried to warm the place up and make it feel more comfortable for you. She had swapped out the rough, scratchy bedsheet the clinic provided for you with a soft, knitted blanket she had made herself. She also took it upon herself to pack you a bag with your own clothes, a couple of books to read, and your favorite polaroids of Joel and Ellie. While it had been incredibly sweet of her to do for you, you still wanted out of that clinic sooner rather than later. “I miss our house. I miss our bed. I miss our kid.”

Joel, who’s sitting in an old, worn leather armchair tucked over in a corner of your room next to the frosted window, raises an eyebrow at you and then juts his chin towards Rosemary, who is swaddled up and sleeping soundly in the plastic bassinet beside your bed.

“Our kid’s right there, darlin’.”

You lift your head off your pillow and glare at him.

“I’m talking about Ellie, Joel.”

He chuckles and leans forward in his chair. Next to him sits a brown stuffed bunny rabbit—Ellie had traded a precious comic book for it and gifted it to the baby the same afternoon she was born. 

“She’s been comin’ to visit every day after school.”

“It’s not the same,” you pout, shaking your head.

Joel sighs and glances at the cot that he had been sleeping on for the last few days—truth be told, he misses the house too. His back certainly misses the bed. “It ain’t the same,” he agrees, tiredly. His face is worn with exhaustion. Despite you insisting that he go home and get some proper rest, he’s too stubborn to listen and only leaves the clinic to take a shower and change his clothes—and to check on Ellie, who’s got a bad habit of not doing her homework unless you or Joel nag her to get it done. “M’real sorry, darlin’. But you heard what they said. Baby’s gotta gain a little more weight before we can take her home.”

Even from where he’s sitting, he can see your eyes glaze over with tears of frustration. Since the baby was born, you’ve been very sensitive, more so than when you’d been pregnant—something he didn’t think was even possible.

“If she keeps on eatin’ the way she’s eatin’ we’ll be home by the end of the week,” Joel adds in an effort to cheer you up. “Besides, you need to heal before we make that long walk across town and back to the house, sweetheart. S’not like I can just pull up the fuckin’ minivan and drive you girls home like back in the day, y’know?”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Ew, Joel. We would not have a fucking minivan.” Dabbing at your eyes with the back of your hand, you can’t help but laugh at the thought of Joel Miller behind the wheel of one of those things. Then, you realize how endearing it would be to watch as he’s loading up Rosemary’s car seat into the van, the muscles of his broad back flexing underneath his shirt as he pulled on the straps to make sure it was safe and secure. You’d climb into the backseat with her and on the way home, you would ask Joel to swing through the nearest burger joint drive through because you’re fucking starving and in need of a proper meal after being subjected to boring, bland hospital food. You shoot him a small smile. “On second thought, that doesn’t sound all that bad. Maybe we would.”

Suddenly, there’s a light knock at the door.

“Come in,” you call, careful not to be too loud.

Dr. Porter walks into the room.

She had been a primary care physician prior to the world ending, according to Maria, who a couple of months ago had given birth to her son while under Dr. Porter’s care. Maria had assured you that, even though the woman never trained in obstetrics, she always went above and beyond for all the mothers to be in the commune. She dedicated her spare time to studying, lost herself in medical books she found on the shelves of the town’s library—kind of like the one that’s currently tucked underneath her arm.

“Hi there mama,” she greets, her eyes shining brightly behind her coke-bottle glasses. Wearing jeans and a sweater, she doesn’t quite look the part—maybe she’d worn a white coat once in her life, but now it was only the old, silver metal stethoscope she had draped around her neck that gave her profession away. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“I’m okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can’t complain.”

Over in his corner, Joel can’t help but snort.

Ignoring him, you add, “Bleeding’s slowing down.”

“Good, that’s good,” Dr. Porter tells you. “And how about this sweet little girl?” She smiles and makes her way over to the bassinet, keeping her voice low. “She eating well?”

“She is. Her last feed was about two hours ago.”

“How’s she sleeping?”

“Like a rock.”

“And you’ve been doing skin to skin as well?”

You nod. “Yes, before and after her feedings.”

“That’s perfect.” Dr. Porter beams at you with pride. “Keep it up and do it as often as possible. There are a ton of benefits of doing skin to skin with her. It’s one of the most incredible things that a mother can do for her baby. Actually—” She pauses for a moment and pulls the book out from under her arm. “I have been doing a bit of research and as it turns out, there are also benefits if dad does skin to skin with baby as well.”

Joel stiffens slightly in his chair. “S’cuse me?”

“I found this book in the library. It talks about all of the benefits of fathers doing skin to skin with their newborn. It was written some time in the nineties and studies were still being conducted, but I really believe they were onto something.” She hands you the book. “For being preterm, Rosemary’s healthy, but it doesn’t do any harm to try whatever you can to make sure that she builds up that immune system and stays healthy, especially now that winter’s here.” Flashing you a smile, she informs you, “I went ahead and folded the pages for you and made some notes. There’s a few benefits in it for Joel as well. Could be worth a try.”

After telling you she’ll be back in a couple hours to check on you and to weigh the baby, Dr. Porter excuses herself from your room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Curiously, you open the book to the first page that she’d folded for you and start reading the first passage out loud.

“Ongoing studies have found skin to skin between father and child have similar benefits to those that come from skin to skin between mother and child. It regulates the baby's body temperature, blood sugar, and stress levels.” You pause and look over at Joel, who appears thoroughly unimpressed. “It also helps to regulate the baby’s heart rate and breathing rate. Joel, this is incredible! I think you should—”

“No.”

Joel winces. He doesn’t mean to sound so curt.

Your face falls. “Why not?”

“That’s for mothers,” he grumbles. “Y’know, for feedin’ the baby.”

“It’s for much more than just that.” You shake your head and flip over to the next page, scanning both the text as well as Dr. Porter’s notes. “It says here that it also helps the baby pick up their father’s natural scent and promotes bonding.”

“Sweetheart, I can bond with her just fine with my fuckin’ shirt on, there ain’t no need for me to—what in the world are you doin’?” Perturbed, Joel watches you as you take a handful of your blanket, throwing it off yourself. He jumps up to his feet the second he realizes that you’re about to get out of bed. “Don’t—”

“Oh relax, Joel. I should be moving more anyway,” you say, wincing as you sit up and swing both legs over the side of the bed. It isn’t so much pain as it is discomfort—everything had been shoved up and out of place for months, after all. As soon as you stand, Joel’s there at your side, one hand on your arm and the other on your back, trying to guide you back onto the bed. You lightly swat him away with your hand. “Joel, stop fussing over me! I’m fine!”

“Baby, y’need to lie down right now—”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands fall away from you and his eyes widen.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and go sit down in the chair.”

The blood drains from his face and he pales. 

It’s not that Joel doesn’t want to do it. He does.

He’ll do anything if it’s for his daughter’s benefit.

Still.

The idea of laying his innocent little baby girl on him without his shirt on—it’s uncomfortable. His chest and stomach are littered with several scars. Rough, raised patches of skin that serve as reminders of a brutal past he doesn’t want her finding out about, not for as long as he can fucking help it.

Rosemary deserves to be wrapped up in softness.

The softness of your smooth, blemish free skin.

The softness of the blankets you’d knitted for her.

The softness of the stuffed bunny Ellie had given her.

Joel?

He isn’t soft.

Nothing about him is soft.

Even holding her in his hands for the first time had been something of a battle. Hands that once snapped necks and slit throats didn’t deserve to hold something so pure and innocent.

“This sounds really promising, Joel.” Slowly, you make your way over to the plastic bassinet, ignoring the dull ache between your thighs. With your back to him, you carefully begin to unswaddle the baby. You try not to wake her as you peel off her warm, knitted onesie and matching socks, leaving her in nothing but her teeny, tiny cloth diaper. Gingerly, you pick her up and turn around to face him. “If Dr. Porter thinks we should try it, then it’s for a good reason, don’t you think so?”

Joel swallows harshly.

“What is it?”

“S’just that I—I’ve got scars everywhere, y’know?”

Your expression instantly softens for him. “Joel, you’re her daddy,” you remind him, gently. “She’s not going to care about things like that.” Pausing, it suddenly occurs to you that it’s not just about his scars. It’s about something else, something that runs so much deeper for Joel. He’d done what he had done in order to survive, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t live with the shame—the guilt and the regret. Rosemary begins to fuss awake and you lightly bounce her in your arms as you assure him, “She isn’t going to care about your past or what you’ve done. Her love for you is going to be as unconditional as yours is for her. She’s going to love you no matter what, Joel. I can promise you that.”

His jaw clenches and his lips press into a tight line.

Rosemary starts to cry—she’s cold, no doubt.

The old heater in the clinic hardly runs.

And when it does, it breaks down.

“Joel, please,” you beg over her wails. “Just try it? For me? For her?”

Sighing in defeat, Joel shrugs out of his jacket and he tosses it aside. With trembling fingers, he begins to unbutton his green flannel shirt—his long sleeved thermal henley comes off next and then he takes off the cotton t-shirt he wears underneath for an added layer of warmth during the winter season. As he stands there shirtless, he shivers and his flesh erupts with goosebumps. “Wait,” he mutters as he watches you take a step forward. He drags the armchair away from the window. He then sits down, his heart racing and the anxiety flaring as he gives you a subtle nod of his head. “Okay.”

You walk over to him and place her on his bare chest.

The second he feels Rosie’s soft skin on his, there’s a shift.

It’s similar to the one he felt when he first felt her move in your belly.

He calms and his heart slows—his nerves dissipate. 

And Rosemary stops crying.

She scrunches, curls up on his chest, and yawns.

Grimacing, you lean over and pick up his flannel shirt. “Here,” you say, draping it over them as a makeshift blanket. “How’s that feel?”

“Think she likes it, darlin’,” Joel murmurs, his fingers delicately brushing over her soft tufts of dark brown hair. His touch causes the newborn’s lip to curl and he catches a glimpse of the prominent dimple in her left cheek—the same dimple Sarah had inherited from him, Rosemary had inherited too. There’s a dull ache in his chest, but somehow, he still smiles as she peers up at him with sleepy eyes. “Hi, Rosie Posie. S’me, babygirl. Your daddy.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, you stifle a giggle.

“What?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at you.

“She’s not the only one who seems to like it.”

Joel chuckles, admitting, “S’pretty relaxin’.” He presses his nose into his daughter’s curls and inhales deeply, relishing in the warm, sweet milky scent of her. After a minute, his smile falters slightly. “Baby?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it?”

Your brow furrows. “Believe what?”

“That she’s gonna love me no matter what.”

“Of course I do.”

“How can you be so sure ‘bout it?”

Carefully, you perch yourself on the arm of the chair and press a gentle kiss against his right temple, your lips brushing over his scar. “Because I just am, Joel.”

Somehow, he believes it—he believes you.

Joel tilts his head back, puckering his lips.

Grinning, you give him a chaste kiss before standing. “I’m going to see if I can get a nap in before her next feed,” you tell him, padding back over to the bed. “Do you think you’ll be okay with her for a while, just the two of you?”

“I think we’ll be just fine,” he murmurs, gingerly stroking Rosemary’s silky cheek with his finger. “Yeah. We’ll be just fine, won’t we, babygirl?”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

[wanders-in-wonderland]

Treatment Plan

Last night was supposed to be harmless New Year’s Eve fun, partying with friends, dancing with strangers, and maybe finding someone to ring in the new year with. I remember dancing and taking shots with a really hot guy at some club where we'd shared a new year kiss. There's nothing else in my memory and I don’t remember when I passed out but I wake up alone in a medical examination room, naked, gagged, and strapped down to a bed with my arms above my head and legs spread wide.

The door opens and four men walk in. The first one I recognize is the hot guy I'd made out with. Except now, he has the look of a doctor, dressed in a white coat, wearing a stethoscope and holding a clipboard. The other three men are wearing nurses scrubs and not a single one acknowledges me as they step into the room and close the door behind them.

The doctor glances down at his clipboard and looks at me, smirking slightly. “It says here you’ve been admitted due to your issues with obedience and self-control. I promise we deliver the best results here, so you, darling, will be in tip-top shape in no time,” his voice is tinged with mockery and I try to shake my head and explain that this is all a mistake, that I have no idea what is going on, and I’m not supposed to be here.

“Day one of this treatment regimen helps us establish a baseline of what we’re working with and involves some sensory deprivation just to enhance the effectiveness but I promise, you’ll enjoy it,” he purrs, coming to stand next to my head before sliding a piece of fabric over my eyes. I struggle uselessly against the bindings, trying to dislodge the blindfold but it’s too secure to move. I feel hands hold my head in place before someone else slides headphones over my ears and suddenly, I’m blind and deaf to the world.

There is nothing to prepare me for what comes next, and no way that I can have any ability to sense what they plan to do to me. I can feel tears pricking at my eyes, absorbing into the blindfold when suddenly, I feel fingers trail along my ribs.

I let out a muted whimper, my body instinctively lurching in response. The feeling is so overwhelming and I’m absolutely senseless and helpless. The fingers linger around my hips and dig in gently, making me jerk uselessly in my bindings. It’s almost too much for my body to handle, the unknown touches, the horrible anticipation and suspense of not knowing anything at all.

Without warning, the fingers dig harder into my ribs, tickling me harshly and mercilessly. I wail behind the gag and thrash desperately, begging for it to stop to no avail. The fingers don’t let up and my entire world has narrowed to the unbearable sensations those fingers are drawing out of my bound body. There’s nothing I can do except endure it.

My wails have died down to little mindless whimpers as the tickling continues to ravage my ribs and hips when I feel the fingers pull away finally. I gasp for air, hoping that this torture is finally going to be over. Suddenly, I feel fingers brush against my underarms and I scream so hard my throat feels raw. I’m yanking and pulling at the straps holding me down but I’m bound too tightly. Tears are flowing freely into the blindfold as my body jerks. The fingers dig devastatingly into my underarms and I’m inconsolable. The tickling feels like electricity going straight into my nerves and it makes my mind hazy.

There’s no mercy and no stopping. The fingers find every vulnerable spot on my body and there’s nothing to stop the wretched tickling that’s making me want to curl into myself and disappear. There’s no acclimation to the feeling or becoming desensitized to it all. Every single movement feels like my body is dancing on a live wire and I have no choice but to experience every devastating feeling.

Another set of fingers finds their way to my hard nipples and I can barely draw in enough air to scream as the stimulation adds to the overwhelming feelings crashing through my body. Flicks against my nipples make me squirm and moan.

Then, my world lights up behind my blindfold when I feel fingers on my clit.

The combination of tickling at every sensitive spot on my body and the focus on my clit shatters me. Every single nerve is pulled open and vulnerable to unforgiving, relentless stimulation and I know I’m dripping wet onto the bed under me. It’s all too much for my brain to process. Every force on my body pushes me closer and closer to an orgasm and it’s unbearable.

A sudden flash of pain hits my clit as someone’s fingers sharply pinch my throbbing button and I wail as my orgasm barrels through my body. None of the stimulation lets up and the fingers on my clit continue to force waves of pleasure through my body while fingers everywhere else drive my orgasm even higher. I’m delirious and barely coherent between all of the different assaults of stimulation that wrack my body.

I feel the fingers on my clit pull away and I’m gasping and shaking. The tickling at my ribs and underarms doesn’t relent and I can barely catch my breath enough to sustain my sobs. Fingers brush against my inner thighs and I can’t help but whine, hearing only my wild heartbeat thudding in my ears.

Suddenly, there’s a vibrator slammed against my clit and my mind breaks. There are too many things going on but my whole being is driven to focus on the horrible vibrator pillaging my clit with no mercy. My next orgasm shoots through me with no warning, no build up, no gentle waves of pleasure. Just pure ecstasy shooting deep through my body, so hard that I can feel it in my bones and it renders me completely broken.

I have no concept of time or place as the torture continues. My body moves on its own accord as it struggles and trembles, futilely trying to avoid every touch. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours when everything finally fades away and all of the hands touching me are gone. I lie there, limp, unmoving, unthinking, barely conscious. It takes me an immeasurable amount of time to catch my breath, my body still feeling phantom aftershocks of pleasure and torment. I vaguely register the feeling of someone pulling the headphones off of my head and I’m able to hear again.

“Oh darling,” his voice is the first thing I recognize, “I suppose I forgot to mention, this treatment regimen has ten levels. And we can’t move on from level one until you learn to control your body and keep still during your treatments. Clearly we’re not going to get there today, but perhaps you’ll do better tomorrow. Otherwise, you’re in for a very long stay here…”

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Hangovers and Hickeys

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: no idea rn lmao probably like 700

A/N: some Spence content before the new year (on the western calendar). Hope you all get to enjoy the day!

“Good morning sunshine.”

You winced at the sheer volume of his voice. “If I could, id shove you off of the roof Derek Morgan.”

“Fun night?”

You snorted and finally lifted your head off of the desk. “You should be a profiler.”

That caused Derek to laugh, which made you wince and close your eyes. The sunglasses perched on your nose were supposed to be helping. They weren’t.

“That’s a nice hickey you got there.”

You grunted in response and tried to adjust your sweater collar so it would cover the hickey you missed this morning when you didn’t look in the mirror. You had basically rolled out of bed, and into your car to make sure you got to work on time.

“Who gave it to you?” “Why don’t you use your super duper profiling skills to deduce it or whatever Sherlock shit you wanna do.”

Derek snorted and shook his head. ”or you could just….tell me.”

“Don’t worry about it Derek.” You grumbled.

When Derek realized he wasn’t going to get any answers out of you about it, he decided he was going to change tactics.

“Moving on from Boy Wonder?” It was no secret that you had a crush on a certain nerdy doctor. And so Derek tried to use this knowledge to his advantage.

You crossed your arms and just raised your eyebrows. “I’m not dignifying that with a response,”

“Pretty sure that was my answer.” He chuckled, sitting down in his chair and swiveling to look at you.

When you decided to just ignore Derek, and face your desk, he piped up again. “Where is he anyways?” “No idea.”

It was like he was waiting for his cue from you. Spencer pushed open the doors to the bull pen and strolled in. He had his purple scarf around his neck, over his new coat that Henry (JJ) had gotten him for Christmas. It was a beautiful grey pea coat that kept him warm during these freezing winter months. Spender was carrying a tray with two coffees on it and what seemed like a bag from McDonalds, which seemed to be for you, since he was headed in your direction.

The smell of the food caused you to groan with joy and smile at the man walking towards you.

“My knight in shining armor.” You muttered as he placed the whole tray in front of you. You placed a kiss on his cheek hasilty, causing him to blush a little.

“I got hashbrowns from both McDonald’s and Dunkin’, a little smorgasbord of grease for your pallet.” He whispered before taking one of the cups out of the tray.

“I’m going to marry you Doctor Spencer Reid.” You muttered, digging into the bag and pulling out one of the McDonald’s hash browns and biting into it. The groan you let out leaned a little on the pornographic side, which made Derek raise his eyebrows at the sound you let out, and then at tinge of pink on Spencer’s cheeks.

You continued eating, clueless about the silent interrogation happening to your left, enjoying every single bite and sip of your hangover cure.

“Derek I can hear you thinking and it’s making my head throb.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back to you, as your figure swiveled in the chair to face him, casually munching on some of the fries, in a completely different mood then from two minutes ago before Spencer had walked in the room.

“Sorry your highness. I’m just curious as to why Boy Genius here is bringing you hangover cures.”

“Well it’s his fault I’m this fucked up so he owes me.” You grumbled, swiveling around in your chair to face your desk. You pulled your lap top out of your canvas bag and started to set up for your work day.

“Wha-how is it his fault.”

That’s when Spencer turned bright red and tried to change the conversation, or at least get out of it. “I—well it’s not…I….hotch is…”

Spencer basically ran across the bullpen and up the stairs to Hotch’s office, avoiding the conversation he almost just had.

“I don’t think you wanna know.” You smirked and bit into the muffin from Dunks that Spencer had got you, not looking at the man behind you.

“I’m starting to think that too.” His eyes narrowed and he looked between where Spencer had run off to, and you.

Something was going on between the two of you, and Derek Morgan was going to figure it out.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: your insane, psychotic best friend Wanda wants you all to herself after you go on a date with another girl. smut ensues ♡

content warnings: oh god where to start. get some holy water and read this in private ya’ll. jealousy, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, marking, choking, murder, knife play, blood kink, mask kink if you squint, restraints, sadism, masochism, pain kink, cunnilingus, foreign object kink, throat fucking with a knife, scissoring, degradation, wanda is INSANE you guys

word count: 5.2k+

masterlist

Only Yours

The chill of the night wraps around you, and you bite your lips to hide a smile as you fumble with your apartment key. With the help of a dim street light, you manage to find it, slipping it into the doorknob with trembling fingers as a sharp gust of wind makes it through your coat and settles deep in your bones. Still, it's not enough to dull the warmth of the successful date you’d been on all evening.

You’d had a lovely night, the two of you walking around a pumpkin patch as you talked for hours. By the end of it, you hadn’t realized how late it had gotten until your feet had started throbbing from walking around mindlessly. The slowly reddening skin of your cheek still tingles from where she’d kissed you, and you catch yourself smiling as you remember how shy she’d gotten right afterward. With the promise of a second date, you’d left after checking your phone to see several missed messages and calls from your best friend. 

Worried that something was wrong, you’d left a bit earlier than you wanted, turning down your date’s offer to return to her apartment and watch a movie in favor of checking up on your best friend. 

Your hand slips as you get lost in thought, turning the doorknob, and you frown slightly. You hadn’t turned your key yet, which meant that your front door was unlocked. Shrugging it off, and still riding the high of your successful date, you look around to ensure that nobody is behind you before slipping inside the dark entryway of your apartment. 

Numb fingers scramble for the light switch, and you blink in confusion when the hallway remains dark after you flip the switch a few times. Sighing, you bend down, undoing the laces of your boots and making a mental note to pay your electricity bill in the morning. 

Maybe you should schedule a doctor's appointment as well, seeing as you’d now forgotten to pay your bill (which never happened, you always remembered), and you’d somehow left your apartment unlocked the whole evening. 

Your footsteps are soft as you make your way towards your bedroom, your eyes locked on your phone as you pull up your texts. As much as you loved your best friend, Wanda could be a little possessive at times. The evidence of this was clear as you scrolled up a few times to reach her first message, which coincidentally started as soon as your date had begun. 

Rubbing slightly at your bleary eyes, you attempt to read the messages as you start thinking of ways to make it up to her. She really hated being ignored. Moving to stand in front of your window, you scroll and scroll, trying to comprehend each text. 

It seemed as though Wanda had lost patience, each text more frustrated and desperate than the last. Scrolling to the end, skimming the texts that documented her slow descent into a possessive rage, your eyebrows rose at the final message that had pinged through. 

‘Mark my words, you’ll never see her again.’

You scoff, having done this dance with her multiple times before. You’d go on a date, and she’d get jealous that your attention was focused elsewhere, even if only for a few hours. Then, you’d dedicate the entire next day to her, doing whatever activity she wanted until she was no longer upset with you. 

This time felt different, and as you look at the timestamp on the last message, you realize why. She’d sent that last message around forty-five minutes ago, which was when your date ended. You’d stopped by the store to buy her favorite drink, as part of your apology that you’d planned out, but your date had only been a ten-minute drive from your apartment. 

Wanda had never gone this long without texting you during one of your dates, and you bring up her contact before pressing the phone icon under her contact photo. Holding your phone close to your face, you put it on speaker while crossing your arms, peering out into the street as you search for her familiar red car. You don’t see it, and you frown down at your screen when your call goes straight to voicemail. 

Something was wrong. 

You feel something shift, the air around you moving slightly as you raise your head. Looking at your reflection through the glass of your window, you barely have enough time to register a figure in a ghostface mask behind you before strong arms wrap around you. 

The phone clutched in your hand drops to the floor as you struggle briefly, the scent of blood filling your nostrils as you’re dragged towards the bed. A cold sensation presses itself against your neck, and you freeze in fear at the sight of a knife in the reflection of the window. 

The sound of heavy breathing reaches your ear, and you can hear the stranger’s breath shake slightly as they pin you to the bed. You’ve given up fighting, terrified when the knife at your throat pricks your sensitive skin slightly and causes a dribble of blood to travel down the column of your throat and into the hem of your dress shirt. 

Rough hands tighten a pair of handcuffs around your wrists, your hips thoroughly restrained by the figure’s strong thighs as they use some rope to secure the handcuffs to your headboard. You’ve never regretted buying a headboard with bars more than you do at this moment. You can feel your throat closing up in fear, your heartbeat strong and fast, threatening to send you spiraling straight into a panic attack. 

As the ghostface figure sits back up, their gloved hands dragging slowly down your shaking arms, you catch a whiff of a familiar scent. The air becomes charged, vanilla hitting your nostrils as you breathe deeply against the knife pressed to your throat.

“I only know one person who wears vanilla perfume.” You manage to get out, your eyes boring into the eyes of the ghostface mask. The figure tilts its head, and you feel yourself relax marginally at the familiar sight. They press the knife harder against your throat, digging the tip in slightly, and you tense again. 

“Wanda,” You begin, but before you can say anything else, a gloved hand muffles your lips as the knife begins tracing down your collarbone. A thin red line blooms across your soft skin, green eyes taking in the sight eagerly from behind the mask. The sensation is painful but causes pleasure to bloom at the same time, and your cheeks redden with shame as you feel your arousal slowly build. 

“You know,” The voice is slightly muffled behind the mask, but you would know Wanda’s voice anywhere. You’ve practically committed her slight accent and lilt to memory, and you feel your heart speed up slightly at the low tone. “She wasn’t right for you. I could tell.” 

You smile slightly, having heard those same words after every date. But not the last part, you hadn’t heard that before. You speak, your words muffled by her gloved hand as it presses roughly against your lips, “What do you mean, you could tell?”

Moving her hands quickly, the figure lays the knife on your stomach before reaching up to remove the ghostface mask. Brunette hair spills out, falling beautifully around the dark black sweater Wanda is wearing. She tosses the mask somewhere onto your floor, her green eyes piercing yours as she picks up the knife once more, toying with the hem of your shirt. 

“You’re really oblivious, did you know that?” Her eyes are locked on the knife, sliding your shirt up slightly as she pops the bottom button off. It hits a wall somewhere, but you ignore it in favor of studying your best friend's face. 

She’s acting different, her pupils dilated so far that the green in her eyes is practically non-existent. Her chest is heaving, her tongue licking her parted lips quickly as she pops another button, revealing more of your skin. 

More of her canvas. 

Her knife digs in, tracing a thin line from the top of your waistband to your belly button. Your attempt to squirm, the pain coursing through you as her thighs tighten against yours. She’s breathing heavier now, and the next words she speaks come out rushed and disjointed. 

“You didn’t even know,” A low chuckle sounds out, heat blooming at your core as the sound wraps around you. “She was there, and I was there and you didn’t know.”

Your brows furrow, confusion taking over your mind as she pops a couple more buttons. She continues, her knife tracing over your ribs as her eyes roam your face. “She doesn’t know you, doesn’t know what you need. Doesn’t know how to take care of you.”

The fog in your mind dissipates slightly, and you think you finally understand where this is going. “And you do?” 

As soon as the question slips out, the sarcasm evident with every syllable, you regret it. Wanda’s eyes flash, and in one smooth movement, her knife twists under the front of your bra and cuts it, slicing through the rest of your shirt as she pulls back. 

“Of course I do, sweetheart.” Her words are hissed, her hands rough as she removes your shirt. “I’m the only one who does.” 

The knife is abandoned momentarily as Wanda traces her nails over the thin, red lines the cold metal had left behind. Swiping her thumb over the small cut on your neck, she brings it to her lips, groaning slightly as she sucks the blood off of her finger. 

Watching, your lips part at the sight, almost against your will. You try to shake yourself out of it, out of whatever daze Wanda had put you in, but as soon as your head moves her eyes are back on yours. 

“She tried to take you from me, they all did. So I took them away from you.” Her eyes are wide, her fingers frenzied as they dig into your skin, dragging from the underside of your breasts and down your torso. Harsh, raised lines appear, and you pant slightly as your hips raise in an attempt to throw her off. 

“Didn’t you ever question why they never responded to you after the first date?” Her words cause you to stop struggling, your movements halting as the pieces begin to click into place. You remembered all the times you’d cried into Wanda’s shoulder because you couldn't understand what had gone so wrong on the first date, that caused every girl to ghost you the day after. Snapping your eyes to hers, you see her nod as realization dawns on your face.

Wanda chuckles, moving closer until her mouth is close to the cut on your throat. The sound sends heat straight to your core, and your mind is thrown back into a confused haze. “You really are dumb, you need someone else to do the thinking for you, sweetheart.”

Without any more preamble, her lips meet your skin and suck. It's been long, much too long since you’ve felt pleasure like this. You find yourself holding back moans as her lips continue to suck, her tongue dragging along your skin as she marks your neck. Her teeth are rough, digging into your skin slightly as dark bruises bloom in a ring around your throat. 

You're hers. And now everyone will be able to see it. 

A pathetic whimper escapes you, and Wanda smiles against your skin. That’s exactly what she’d been waiting for, and she pulls back briefly to take in your half-lidded eyes and blown pupils. 

You have one last question, and before you can think too hard about the consequences of questioning Wanda, it pushes past your lips. “What do you mean, you took them away?”

The words hang in the air, silence filling the room as a slow smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face. She slowly reaches for her knife, a faraway look in her eyes as she traces the tip of it around your nipple. “I wasn’t going to risk you being taken from me.”

“Wanda.” 

Her eyes meet yours, her gaze hot as she takes in your pleading expression. She sighs, knowing that you won’t let the topic go until you're satisfied with her answer. Digging the tip of the blade into the top of your breast, she watches the blood bead around it while you wince. 

“Don’t interrupt me again.” Her words are hard, and you nod quickly. She rewards you by pulling the blade away and soothing the cut with her tongue. A moan escapes her when the sweet taste of your blood hits her taste buds, and she laps up as much of it as she can before pulling away to answer your unspoken request. 

Her eyes glint, and dread pools in your stomach. 

“I killed them.” She says simply, her tone flat even as her words are slightly breathy. “I couldn’t risk letting them free. Not while I was at risk of losing you. I can never lose you.”

Wanda’s voice is slightly frantic by the end of her sentence, and you can tell that she’s losing control. Her fingers are digging into your skin, the blade of her knife pressing against your ribcage as one of her hands makes its way to your throat. 

Squeezing tightly, she watches your eyes close at the feeling, your throat bobbing roughly beneath her hand. She feels practically drunk on power now that she finally has you, and no longer has to hide her obsession for you. 

It was easy enough to hide cameras and small microphones in your apartment, seeing as she practically lived there with how often she came over. It was more difficult to follow you on your dates, trying to stay inconspicuous even as rage overtook her at the sight of you with another woman. 

The best part, however, was after you said goodbye to your date. She loved the rush of power she received when the first thing you did was respond to her texts. She must have been on your mind during the date if you texted her as soon as it was over, right? 

Wanda couldn’t really feel bad for the women she killed, they were just desperate for you. They wouldn’t have treated you right, they didn’t even know you. Besides, they all wanted to take you from her, and she couldn’t let that happen. 

She would never let that happen. 

The sound of a strangled moan brings Wanda back into the present moment, and her eyes focus on your face as you try to breathe under her hand. Her eyes widen, and she snatches her hand away from your throat as she cups your face while you suck in deep breaths. 

“Are you alright, darling? I didn’t mean it, please forgive me. I would never hurt you, I just got upset at the thought of losing you. You know how much I love you, sweetheart. Please, say something.”

Wanda’s body weight is fully on top of you, her hands cold and smelling of iron as they caress your cheeks. It's gentle, and you can’t comprehend why she went from such a rough action to stroking your face with her fingertips. You want to scream, you want to push her off of you. You’ve never seen her like this, with wide eyes and short puffs of breath hitting your face. Her lips are inches from your own, her eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of pain. 

You want to push her away, but there are tears sliding down her cheeks and landing on yours so instead you tilt your face and press your lips against hers. 

The softness of her lips surprises you, and you find yourself not minding the slight taste of iron as she begins sliding them against yours. She’s a better kisser than anyone else you’ve kissed, and you find yourself leaning into her touch, instead of away from it. 

This is your best friend, she wouldn’t hurt you. She loves you.

Sharp teeth tug at your bottom lip, and you can’t help the tiny moan that escapes you at the feeling. She smiles at the sound, and you vividly remember the time you’d told her that you were a masochist, drunk on cheap wine as the pair of you watched 50 Shades of Grey and laughed at nearly every scene. 

You should’ve known she’d remember. Wanda seemed to remember everything about you, but you also remembered everything about her. Especially the sensitive spot just below her ear that caused her to whine, something you’d discovered during a drunk makeout session in a dirty club.

Arching your back even more and taking advantage of her slip in control when she groans at the feeling of your pelvic against hers, you attach your lips to that sensitive spot. Wanda practically writhes on top of you, a breathy moan leaving her lips as pleasure courses through you when her hands tighten around your breasts. 

Breaking the kiss, Wanda tangles a hand in your hair and wrenches your head back, exposing your bruised neck once more. She nips lightly at the skin, pain blooming whenever her teeth so much as graze the swollen bruises, and you whimper. 

“Wanda, please.”

The sound of your voice sends pleasure racing towards Wanda’s core. Grinding her hips down to relieve some of the aching pressure between her thighs, she pulls back and reaches for her knife. She’s never heard you beg before, and now that she has, she wants more. 

“Please what, darling? Use your words.” Her eyes bore into yours, and you shiver when you see something hungry in them. She slowly drags the knife over the swell of your breasts and down your stomach, creating new, deeper cuts. 

You can’t do much but moan and pant, the sensations quickly becoming overwhelming as pleasure shoots through you with each new cut. Wanda catches onto this, her smile widening until it's all teeth as she feels your hips attempt to roll from under her thighs. 

“I won’t ask again.” Her voice turns cold in an instant, her smile slowly fading as she watches you struggle to form a sentence. The knife stops, right on the inside of your hip. The tip digs in, dragging smoothly along your skin as green eyes focus on it. 

The only thing you can do is watch, your brain is much too fuzzy to form thoughts, much less any words. 

A particularly harsh stroke brings a moment of clarity to you, and when Wanda finally pulls the blade away from your skin, you realize that she’d been leaving deliberate marks. She’d been carving something into your skin. You feel your heart quicken at the proud smile that appears on those sinfully plump lips, and you let out a whimper as her eyes snap to your face. 

“Now you’re truly mine.” The words are whispered, but you hear them. Looking down, you see the letters WM engraved into your hip and look back at dilated green eyes in shock. Judging by the pain you’d felt and the amount of blood seeping out of her initials, the cuts were deep and long-lasting. 

“Wanda…” You don’t know what to say, but as the knife still clutched in her hand starts making its way towards your throat, you say the words she wants to hear. 

“I was always yours,” A wide smile makes its way onto Wanda’s face, and she throws the knife somewhere onto the bed as she cups your cheeks in her hands. 

Green eyes search yours frantically, her breaths uneven and short as she studies your face. Her voice is breathless and demanding, her accent slipping in between each syllable as her fingers dig into your face. “Say it again.” 

“I’m yours, Wanda.” Your eyes are earnest and the fear that had been building starts slowly slipping away as Wanda’s eyebrows raise softly. You can see the crazed look in her eyes fading slightly, and you catch a glimpse of your best friend underneath the possessive version of her. “I always have been, and you’ve always been mine.”

You’re surprised to find that you actually mean those words. 

“Now please,” You begin, your voice slipping into a whine as you become acutely aware of her pelvis grinding against your center. “Fuck me, Wanda.”

Hands make their way from your flushed cheeks and down to your chest, fingers roughly tracing the raised, red lines across your skin. You’re far too gone to feel any shame about the pleasure coursing through you at the pain, your hips rolling against Wanda’s desperately as she bends down to kiss you again.

Her lips are rough against yours, her teeth biting and pulling at your swollen lips as you try and keep up. She dominates the kiss quickly, her fingers pinching and tugging at your nipples as she slides her tongue against yours, a slightly iron taste hitting your tongue as she does so. 

You arch into her, no longer afraid of her touch. This is your best friend, and you know she’ll take good care of you, she always has. And now, she always will.

Wanda’s lips leave your own, and you suck in deep breaths, feeling light-headed from lack of oxygen as she sits up fully and begins removing your pants. She’s impatient, practically ripping the fabric as she pulls them down your legs. Her eyes catch a glimpse of the growing wet spot on your underwear, and she rips them off in one smooth motion. 

Before the fabric has even hit the floor, her tongue is hot and needy against your aching core. She didn’t even hesitate to put her hair up, instead flipping it casually over one shoulder as she moaned at the taste of you. She’d been dreaming about this moment for what felt like forever, and you’ve surpassed every expectation she had. Your hips jerk, the stimulation sending your senses into overdrive, and Wanda simply chuckles against you as she holds your thighs down. 

You can feel yourself dripping against Wanda’s face as she builds you up, your orgasm creeping closer with each deliberate swipe of her tongue. She eats you out like she’s been waiting for years, which you suppose she actually has. Her tongue swirls around your clit, and you risk a glance down, wrists straining against your restraints as you do.

Wanda’s pupils are so blown that you can’t see any green left in her eyes, and they’re glinting up at you as she smiles slowly. She winks, and you nearly faint from the sight before she takes your clit between her lips and sucks harshly. 

Loud moans reverberate around your bedroom as you throw your head back against the pillow. Your muscles strain beneath her fingers, your hips rutting pathetically against her face as you feel your orgasm closing in. You try to signal that you’re close, that she should stop, the sensations threatening to overwhelm you as the pleasure at your core builds painfully. 

Wanda’s tongue swirls around your clit once, her teeth scrape it as she sucks, and she moans against your dripping center. That’s all it takes, and within a second you’re coming, your clit pulsating wildly against her tongue as your pussy clenches around nothing, your cum staining her chin as she licks you through the aftershocks. 

“Fuck, Wanda. I…” You try to speak, your arms still thrashing slightly against the cuffs attached to your headboard. Her lips move over your still-overly sensitive clit, her tongue teasing the tip of it as it protrudes from its hood. “More, please. I want to feel you.”

Wanda detaches her lips, wiping your arousal off her chin with the back of her hand. You feel your clit throb at the sight, and you bite your lip as her eyes dart towards them. “Such a desperate slut, begging right after I’ve given you an orgasm?” 

You open your mouth, whether to protest or beg again, you don’t know. Wanda doesn’t give you the chance, pressing her fingers into your mouth until they hit the back of your throat. Your wide eyes look up at her as they water slightly, your lips closing around her fingers as you begin to suck. 

“Because I’m feeling generous tonight,” Wanda begins, reaching for her knife. Your eyes widen slightly at the blade in her hand, and she feels a wave of arousal make its way to her core at the sight. “I’ll fuck you harder, but I’m the one who gets to choose how I do that, not you. Understand?”

Nodding quickly, your eyes dart between the knife and her face as she watches your reaction intently. Her head tilts, tracing the blade gently across your skin until the cold metal reaches your overheated mound, and you bite back a whimper. 

The tip of the blade circles around your clit and you freeze as Wanda carefully maneuvers the sharp metal around your slick center until your muscles tremble from the effort of keeping still. Flipping the knife until the blade rests in her hand, she teases the entrance of your dripping pussy with the handle. 

She winks, “Don’t worry, I cleaned it for you, sweetheart.”

You whimper, biting back a moan as she eases the knife into you. Fighting the urge to fuck yourself against the handle, you bite your lip harshly, tasting blood as she slowly pumps in and out of you. 

Wanda is focused on the knife, watching as she thrusts it deep inside your leaking pussy and admiring the juices that coat it when she slowly pulls it out. She finds a rhythm, one that has your thighs quivering and muffled moans spilling from between your lips as the sloshing sounds of your pussy fill the room. 

Looking up, Wanda’s eyes lock on your bottom lip. It’s trapped between your teeth, beads of crimson blood forming as you pant and moan. Your eyes are closed, and Wanda realizes that you’re too lost in the pleasure to realize that you’re hurting yourself. 

She can’t have that, the only person allowed to hurt you is Wanda. 

“Open your mouth, darling.” Her words are soft, even as she harshly removes the knife from you, leaving you aching and wanting more. You comply, seeing the warning in her eyes as she teases your lips with the arousal-stained handle. 

Wanda’s lips part as her breaths become shallow at the sight of you sucking your own juices off her knife. Just when she thinks you couldn’t possibly make her like you more, you go and do something like this. She can’t take it anymore, and her own pussy is throbbing, begging her to release the aching pressure she’s had since the moment she stabbed that girl for the first time tonight. 

“Good girl.” You smile around the handle at the words, and Wanda smirks. She should have known that you had a praise kink, especially with the way you blush whenever she compliments you. 

“You like that?” She asks, moving the handle deeper into your eager mouth and pressing down on your tongue. “You like being called my good girl? What about this,” She pretends to think, moving the handle until you’re gagging around it. 

“You’re my desperate little slut, aren’t you?” Wanda knows she’s found another one of your kinks when she feels your hips roll against her and watches the blush on your face deepen. “It’s pathetic how wet you are right now, and I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.”

You whine, breathing through your nose as she fucks your throat with your arousal-covered knife. Wanda continues, the crazed look appearing once more in her eyes. “Is this all for me? Or do you get wet every time some insignificant pretty girl touches you? I bet you do, so desperate for attention that you’ll beg anyone to fuck you. But you don’t have to worry about that anymore, honey. Now I’m here, and I’ll treat you right.”

Wanda pauses, removing the knife from your mouth and setting it on the dresser beside the bed, before she stands and removes her own clothing, talking the whole time. “I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even think about anyone else. Your pussy is mine, your pleasure is mine, your pain is mine, you’re mine.”

She pauses, completely nude as she moves to kneel over you. She feels her own arousal dripping down her inner thighs, and your eyes widen at the glistening heat between her legs. “All mine.” 

Green eyes so dark they’re black voids of obsession roam your body, tracing paths of fire over your skin as they admire the angry cuts left behind by her sharp blade. It’s not enough, and Wanda knows that it will never be enough. She’ll always want more of you, and you’ll happily give it to her. Because you love her, and no one else. 

“I do,” You say, your eyes bright as they lock with green ones. “I do love you, Wanda. I promise. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Wanda realized that she must have said the last part of her obsessive thoughts out loud, but couldn’t help the sigh of relief at the confirmation of your feelings. She gets on the bed, positioning herself over you until her core is pressed against your own. Her eyes meet yours, and they lock intently on you as she begins moving her hips. 

The friction is almost too much, pleasure building quickly as you feel Wanda’s clit bump your own. You admire her long dark hair, taking note of the slightly smudged eyeliner under her intense eyes and the dark lipstick coating her lips as small gasps tumble out of them. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a more beautiful sight.

“Say it,” Wanda demands, her voice breathy. She moans, grinding herself harder against you as her orgasm races towards the surface. Her hands move, one gripping your breast tightly as the other moves to wrap around your throat. 

You try to hold your own orgasm back, wanting to please Wanda. Your words are strained, your tone desperate as you beg, “Say, what? Tell me and I’ll say it. Please?”

Wanda could cum just from those words, but she doesn’t. As much as she loves how obedient you’re being, she needs one more thing. “You're mine.” She manages to get out, her orgasm about three seconds away. 

Realization dawns in your eyes, and you smile up at her. It's all teeth and blood from the cut on your lip, and Wanda’s orgasm crashes over her at the sight. Your words are strong, soothing, and low as your own orgasm washes over you. “I’m yours, all yours.”

You feel a tendril of possessiveness worm its way through you at the sight of Wanda coming undone on top of you. It wraps around your heart and squeezes, and you think you understand how she’s been feeling this whole time. You never want to let her go, to let her be loved by anyone other than you. 

Wanda leans down, her breath hot against your lips as she kisses you. You kiss back with the same ferocity, biting down on her lips and claiming her as your own. She moans, her hips stuttering against you, and you smile. 

“Only yours.”

—

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch

[beelmons]

Luxury poker nights (18+)

cw: sex-servant kink, voyeurism, reader gets passed around basically, rossi is there but doesn't engage, hotch x morgan x spencer x reader, reader is an implied escort/prostitute, fem!reader

A/N: i won't apologize for being a slut. PT 2 has be released here!

“I’ll draw three— fuck.” Spencer muttered under his breath as he reached for the cards that Rossi was dealing to him. 

Your mouth was tightly wrapped around his cock underneath the poker table, your head bobbing up and down, body bare to your toes as you kneeled on a pad that the guys had given you for that exact purpose. Your tongue running against his shaft was driving him insane, unable to fully focus on the game he was playing. You figured, even if you knew nothing about these men, that this was the only way they could get to beat him.  

“Told you poker nights at Rossi’s were the best, kid.” Morgan said from across the wooden surface as he took a sip off his beer “He’s always got surprises like this ready for us.” 

The muscular man shot a charming smile and a wink towards the eldest, who replied with a chuckle of his own. “I like to have my boys treated nicely. Only the best.” he added.

“She sure is.” Aaron said with warmth in his voice. 

He tilted his head to observe you servicing his subordinate so diligently. Spencer was sitting on his right, Morgan his left, and Dave right in front, so he had full access to the rest of your body while you were focused on Reid. He shuffled a little to have his chair closer to where you were before he reached for your free hand, then leaned enough to be able to place a gentle kiss to the back of it. “Lend me this, will you?” he cooed while he guided it to his already exposed member. 

You let out a hum in agreement, your fingers carefully wrapping around the slippery dick; you had tended to him before moving to Spencer, so he was already fully hard, coated with saliva, and almost ready to burst. Your hand mimicked the movements of your head, stroking up and down in moderate motions. 

“So, what do we think of the new section chief?” Aaron asked. 

“Seems to have a solid career trajectory.” Rossi added. 

“As long as he doesn’t begin to micromanage us, I don’t care if he’s a monkey on a monocycle.” Derek contributed as well. 

Eyes landed on Reid when he lacked an opinion, only to find out he had his lips parted, his hands on the back of your head as he looked at you devouring his cock, and his pants had grown into a messy pattern. Shortly after, his hands pressed you down and he let his seed spill into your mouth. As you had been paid to do so, you swallowed. 

Spencer took a couple of breaths to steady his high, you having moved away from him to have your lips latched onto Hotch’s tip once again. “He seems reliable. But what’s up with the weird interactions with JJ?” his eyes narrowed as he asked. 

“Don’t you worry about that, Reid.” Aaron answered, his hand landing on your head in a similar fashion the young doctor had, making sure you kept your pace as they spoke. 

“Well, are we here to play poker? or to talk shop?” Morgan interrupted the conversation. “All in.” 

“You seem very confident, Morgan.” Spencer teased, eyeing his own cards.

“Oh, does your brain finally work, pretty boy? It sure looked like my girl here had the wires disconnected for a while.” he joked back, referring to the way you had sucked the intelligence out of him. 

“Full house. Jacks over sixes.” Spencer said, opening his cards for them to see. 

Aaron and Dave threw theirs on the table, not even daring to show them. Reid’s eyebrows raised daringly, confident enough that he had an unbeatable hand. Morgan, however, did not yield, and he threw his cards on the surface to show his hand. 

“Poker of Jacks.” he clarified, pointing at the four identical symbols on the square pieces of carton. Spencer let out a small curse and Derek made a happy little dance. “Why don’t you come over here, mama? You wanna be where the winner’s at.” he said, tilting his head to look in your direction. 

Aaron shot him a look at the fact that he was depriving him of your velvet tongue. You had long learned that ‘all in’ included everything, and that also meant you. Hotch was gentle enough to offer a hand and help you up, his cock still dangling from his pants as he stood up. Once both of you were on your feet, he pulled you closer, his hands landing to massage your ass. “Give me a quick kiss before you go.” he said half jokingly, and you obliged. His hands squeezing your skin as your lips passionately moved on his. 

You rounded the boss’s chair so you could be on Morgan’s side, awaiting your instructions, and he gently tugged you by your waist to guide you to his lap. His dick as was already out, simply laying half-hard against his pants. It usually went like that, all of them with their cocks ready to be attended when they wanted, for as long as the night lasted. 

Derek took it into his hand and perked it up, indicating for you to sit on his lap. Before you lowered yourself, though, he aligned his member with your entrance, and you let out a small wince of pleasure at his size. You held onto the table for support, and you were ready to start moving before an arm on your thigh stopped you. 

“No, no, sweetheart, you have done enough. We’re changing roles for now, let me treat you well while you play some poker.” the man huskied behind you. 

Your eyebrows furrowed questioningly, but you heard the chair move, and felt your body pulled slightly back to have you leaning on the table, your forearms resting right by the edge to help you up. Morgan’s hips immediately began to thrust at their own rhythm, rather slow, although at times faster. 

You were panting a little as he fucked you from behind. The cards were dealt, and you got a decent hand. You exchanged two cards, Spencer changed one, Dave two, and Aaron three. All while they barely paid attention to the man fucking you in the middle of the room. 

“All in.” Aaron said, and everyone’s eyebrows raised, they all know what that meant. 

“Well, baby, if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beat his hand.” Derek pointed out, his hips still moving into you, the apparent apathy of everyone else just adding to your arousal. You looked at your hand, full house, threes over twos, not very high, but still probable enough that you could take the bag, and hopefully continue getting filled by the man behind you. Although, if you were honest, either outcome was okay. Servicing such handsome, and well mannered men was always a pleasure. 

“F-Full house. Threes over t-twos.” you panted out, opening your cards for everyone to see. Dave, almost immediately, folded on the table.  

“Close.” Spencer said “As you probably are, too.” he teased with a mischievous smile as he showed his cards “Full house. Sixes over twos.” 

“Nice try.” Aaron said when Spencer tried to reach for the pool “Straight flush.” he proudly showed his hand. 

“Next round, maybe, pumpkin.” Morgan said before he smacked your ass, hard enough to excite you, not enough to be overly painful. 

He pulled out of you and directed you to Hotch by your hips, immediately taking his seat back without putting away his cock. 

“Why don’t you grab some water and take a break, honey?” Aaron said as soon as you stood next to him “I have the feeling we’ll be here all night.”