quinnsbrain

[quinnsbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind) Part 2

This is part 2, trust when I say it makes very little sense without part 1.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Synopsis: You meet him for your date, but it’s cut a little short.

Warnings: None I can think of other than cringe writing.

A/N: This took ages man, I don’t know what happened but I just felt a block so many apologies for taking so long.

As you click the little green button, you feel unnecessarily nervous. “Hello.”

“Hi.” He replies, and the smile that graces your lips can be heard from the other end of the phone.

“Doc. I’m glad you called.” You try to play it cool, but you know he can sense your excitement anyway.

“I’m glad you asked me to. Look, I’m on my way to a case right now, but I was thinking that when I get back we could do something? Go for dinner, maybe?” He sounds as nervous as you feel, and your heart spikes a little.

“Dinner sounds great. Have you thought of a place?” You do a little spin in the living room of your small apartment and you hear chatter in the background of the call.

“There’s this little restaurant that I normally get takeout from. I know them pretty well so they’ll keep me a table on short notice. They’ve got everything so statistically there’s bound to be something you like.” The way he speaks reaches a spot in your brain, fast and passionate, even about the most mundane things.

“I know I’m gonna like it because you do, and I trust your taste.” You bite your lip, wondering if that was too much.

“You should, I’m very particular.” His voice betrays the fact that he’s grinning, and you match his expression.

“I like particular. Particular is good.” Your voice has dropped a little subconsciously, and he’s about to reply when you hear the familiar voice of Agent Hotchner alerting Spencer that they need him.

“I’ve gotta go, but I’ll call you when I’m home?” You almost sigh in contentment at just the sound of him, but you snap out of it quickly to reply.

“I’ll be waiting patiently, Doc. I’ll see you.” You hang up, and stand in the middle of your living room for what seems like an hour but truly is only a few minutes. Why are you so attracted to this guy you only met a few nights ago?

But you feel as though you know him, from the way Penelope has talked about him, from the time you spent together. You feel as though you know them all.

—

You just sent in the final draft of your latest article. This one had been an absolute nightmare, being asked to write a piece on climate change. Your editors loved you for your fresh takes, but after so long there was no angle on climate change that hadn’t already been written. They seem fairly happy with it, but you can’t help the nagging feeling of wishing you could have done the proposed piece on how tourism is ruining the economy like you had wanted.

Through the annoyance of knowing you could have done better, you still feel slightly more at ease knowing the article is finished and out of your hands, and that you can relax and drink your fourth mug of coffee for the day. It’s eleven am.

But as you stand to stretch your achy muscles and make some fresh coffee, your phone rings. You know who it is before you even pick up, but make sure to check anyway just in case.

‘Spencer’ flashes on your screen, and you immediately sit down on your sofa, hitting the answer button and taking a readying breath.

“Hey Doc.” Your voice is unintentionally airy, but he doesn’t seem to notice - or he pretends not to - as he replies.

“Hey. I got back from work late last night, but I didn’t wanna call in case you were asleep. I was just wondering what you had planned for tonight?” The grogginess in his voice is evident, and it raises a question before you can even think about answering his.

“Spencer, how long ago did you wake up?” The simple question makes him go quiet for a moment before he speaks.

“I woke up just before I called you.” He sounds nervous to admit it, like he’s embarrassed to be caught thinking of you so soon into his day.

“Must have been thinking about me in your sleep then. And to answer your question, I’m free tonight.” You can’t hide the tinge of satisfaction knowing he thought about you maybe as often as you thought about him.

The small breath he sucks in doesn’t pass by you. You may not be a behavioural analyst but you are a damn good journalist, and you know what that little breath means. It says “you caught me”. Was he really thinking of you in his slumber? You note it down in the back of your head to try and slip out of him later.

“Would you like to go for dinner to that restaurant tonight?” He seems to have composed himself as he asks his question, and you try not to sound too enthusiastic as you eagerly say yes. “Okay, great- that’s great! I’ll pick you up at six… I don’t drive.” The defeat in his voice makes you laugh.

“How about I pick you up?” You suggest, calming his nerves. “You can tell me where to go.” Truthfully, you had already planned to drive him. Penelope told you once how he doesn’t drive, and you called her two days ago to reconfirm. This information, however, is not something you feel the need to tell him, because it seems a little obsessive - but you were just thinking logically of course - and you don’t want to weird him out quite so early.

He seems to be okay with the idea, and you’re thankful that he doesn’t take it as a blow to his ego like most men would. The call ends after a few short pleasantries - that are actually pleasant - and you immediately get to work.

You throw open the doors of your wardrobe and go straight to the dresses, very slowly narrowing it down to two options. A flowy red dress that you almost go with, and a simple black silk dress that ends just below your knees.

This one is for special occasions, and you deemed this a pretty special occasion. As you rummage through your box of shoes and stack of earrings trying desperately to find earrings and heels in the same colour, you come across a pair of purple strapped heels that you know you have drop earrings in a similar shade to. You just can’t find them.

Suddenly you notice that it’s 12:30 and your brain short circuits. Your entire room is thrown upside down and inside out until you find the earrings you’re looking for, and then neatly arranged back to its original state, all within thirty minutes. Now you have your little purple dewdrops and your outfit is complete, but you have four and a half hours until you need to leave and you know you’ll need it, albeit mostly to panic.

Four hours passes and you’ve showered, shaved, styled your hair and put on some light makeup. Your nail polish is just dry and you have your dress on, so you buckle your heels and stand. Twenty five minutes before you can leave. That’s not bad. You just have to wait twenty five minutes… But what if traffic is bad? You should probably leave fifteen minutes early for that, right? And if you think about it, the time between leaving your house and getting to the car wasn’t considered in the time it would take you to get there, and if you drag it out that’s a good five minutes. So really you only need to leave in five minutes. But what’s the point of waiting five minutes really? You should just leave now. Good idea.

As you park at his apartment building you realise you may have been a little over eager. The drive was ten minutes shorter than expected, so you’re around thirty minutes early. Which is embarrassing, so to speak. But you decide to head up early, a gut feeling telling you that it’ll be beneficial.

As you knock, he immediately opens the door and then a sheepish look comes over his face. “I saw you get out of your car.” He nervously rubs his hand on the back of his neck and it makes you smile. Then you take in his attire. He looks similar to when you met him in the bar, although he’s wearing white converse to match a white shirt underneath his brown suit. He’s also sporting a watch, and - most importantly - glasses. Damn those fucking glasses.

You realise you haven’t responded and are now intensely looking at his eyes, and he looks a little uncomfortable.

“Shit- sorry. I was just looking at you- I mean you look good- Great! You look great. You look… pretty. I like your glasses, do you wear them often?” Although you can feel yourself rambling into oblivion, you somehow can’t stop the flood of words that come out of your mouth.

His mouth opens for a moment as though he might speak, and then it shuts again. He stands aside to let you come in. “I never let you in.” He comments, sounding apologetic.

You shake your head in reassurance. “That’s alright, I wasn’t sure if you would even be ready since I’m so early. I never meant to be, I just kind of over thought it and now I’m here.” You wring your fingers together. Spencer noticed that you do it as a nervous habit when you met in the bar.

“I was ready an hour ago, I’ve just been reading while I waited for you. You can sit.” He motions to his sofa, and you sit next to the armrest so that you can turn and lean your back against it to face him sitting a little away from you. “You look beautiful. You remind me of a painting called ‘Madame X’, you probably know it. You could almost be a modernised retelling. Did you know that the painting caused an extreme public discourse as people thought the artist, John Singer Sargent, made the woman look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed.” He says all this with a little grin, and you can’t help but grin along with him.

The decision to tease him comes before you can truly think about it. “You think I look deathly pale and scandalously unclothed, Doc?” As the words come out of your mouth, he pales slightly.

“No, of course not! You remind me more of the principle. The woman was so beautiful she was renowned for her looks. Painters had all but begged her to do a portrait before, but she declined until she found Sargent. But even then, the people of Paris thought the painting didn’t do her beauty justice. Despite this, the painting became famous and beloved for hundreds of years around the world, and to this day is still considered a work of true historical art. A timeless beauty. That’s how I think you look.” His passion for little things shines through again, and your mouth is left slightly agape from his words.

“That was…” You can’t even think.

“A lot, I know. I tend to ramble a lot. I don’t really notice that I’m bothering people until it’s too late.” He rubs the back of his neck again, and the thought of people being bothered by him sends multiple emotions running down your spine.

You reach over and grab his hand with one of yours, the other going to touch his face. “I was going to say, that was awfully considerate of you. Never assume that you’re bothering me. Talk quite literally as much as you please, I want to know what you want to say… If we weren’t on our first date I’d readily teach you exactly how much I enjoy when you talk, but that can be saved for another time, maybe.” Your voice drops nearer the end, and he picks up on it as he sucks in a breath and nods vigorously.

“Definitely- I mean yes, sure. I will keep that in mind.” He’s still nodding as you smile at him, a proper smile.

“You’re pretty when you get flustered. You get all red, from the tops of your cheeks all the way down your neck.” You silently wonder if it goes further. You wish you could check. The hand on his face trails down his neck as you speak, emphasising what you mean.

He gets redder. How can he get redder? “Pretty. You’ve used that word on me twice now.” The comment seems to be more of an observation than a question, but you answer it as though it is one.

“I think you’re pretty. Handsome is a word I dislike. It reminds me of Ken, like Barbie and Ken. You’re not a doll, you’re a man, who just so happens to be pretty. I could call you beautiful instead, I’d say that adjective very accurately describes you too. Gorgeous, if that’s something you prefer.” You relent as the redness gets impossibly worse, and it makes you feel a little guilty. “Sorry, Doc, I just like seeing you flustered. I’ll call you handsome or something more masculine if you’re more comfortable with that.” You give him a little smile and pull your hand from his face.

He wouldn’t say it out loud but he wishes you would keep it there. He grasps your other hand tightly in his, and he shakes his head. “I don’t mind. You can call me whatever you feel like… You’re wearing purple. Purple is my favourite colour.” He looks away for a moment, and it warms your heart.

“Purple suits you, as a favourite colour I mean. Mine is green.” Your voice holds a gentleness in it that comes with caring for someone. It’s baffling. You’ve known him days. A week at most. You shouldn’t feel so… warm around him.

“Green makes sense. I think purple looks best on you though, which is definitely coming from a place of bias.” This makes you laugh, small and breathy, but he smiles at the sound.

You don’t realise how much time has passed until you hear a buzzing noise, and you both realise it’s a phone ringing. It’s coming from the other room so you assume it’s Spencer’s and he quickly gets up to answer. You can’t hear much from the wall between you, but when he comes back through looking thoroughly disappointed, you can tell it’s a work call. “Serial killers don’t stop for first dates sadly.” You remark, and he looks a little surprised.

“How did you know?” He questions, coming closer to you and you stand up to face him.

“I may not be a behavioural analyst, but I can tell what that face means. It means ‘I’m so sorry but I have to go stop murders’.” You smile to try and reassure him, but you can see the cogs whirring in his brain.

He seems to be thinking too many thoughts to process, but suddenly he dips down and kisses you. It’s short, but it’s soft, and you have a look of surprise on your face as he pulls away. “I wish we had gotten to go on our date, but I really wish that this doesn’t stop us from going on another one.” He looks at you in anticipation, and you melt.

“I wouldn’t pass it up for the world, Doc. Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll drive you there. We can plan the next one in the car.” You kiss his cheek and go to sit back down, and he shuffles away to his bedroom with a stupid smile tugging at his lips.

A/N: So… thoughts on part 3 with newly established relationship reid x reader ? Equally, thoughts on me adding smut somewhere along the line?

[quinnsbrain]

Miscommunication (the fun kind)

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Warnings: slight alcohol consumption? i think that’s all, nothing NSFW in this one

Synopsis: Your good friend Penelope sees you in a bar and begs you to sit with her and her work friends. You realise you like one. She also realises you like one. She however, thinks you like the wrong one.

The moment Penelope spotted you, she gasped. “Oh my god!” You spun round on your seat on the bar towards her running over to you in unrunnable heels, a brilliant smile gracing her face and a surprised one falling to yours as you saw each other.

“Penelope?” You hopped off your bar stool and pulled her into a hug. “It’s been too long darlin’. I feel like we haven’t seen each other in years.” You gushed, definitely over exaggerating your circumstances.

“Didn’t we go for coffee last Thursday?” She giggles, and you see the familiar glint in her eye that she only got after a couple of margaritas.

“Like I said, years!” You giggled right back, and she held your hands, leaning in towards you more.

“Who are you here with?” She questioned, looking around.

You shrugged casually, “I came with some girls from work, but they all left with guys and I decided to drink my loneliness away… Except I haven’t actually had a drink yet because I’ve been sitting here debating whether I really want to drink alone.” Your words, though holding a little weight, came out with a laugh and a self deprecating sigh.

Penelope gave you a look, and you knew she was brewing something. “What if… you come sit with us?” Before you can ask questions or protest, she continues, “You know I’ve always wanted to introduce you to the team, which is who I’m here with, and it would be good for you too ‘cus it means you can drink not on your own.” She gives you puppy dog eyes, and clasps her hands together waiting for your answer.

You relent, deciding the sooner you had an interaction with her FBI friends the sooner it was over. You had heard some things, and they seemed lovely, but they were her friends and you had the feeling you wouldn’t be very welcome with your job as a journalist. “Okay fine, but you can’t mention my job. I don’t want them to hate me on the first impression.”

“It’s okay they know, I told them ages ago about what you do. Alright you stay here, I’ll go tell them and then I can introduce you.” She was practically buzzing, so excited you could see it in the air around her. She shuffled away happily, and came back to drag you over a moment later.

As you approached the group, she introduced you in order of where they sat around the table. “That’s JJ, Derek, David, Hotch, Emily, and Spencer. Everybody, this is my friend Y/N.” She smiles all big and goofy and then scrunches up her face in disappointment. “There’s no chairs left.”

You take this as an opportunity. “Well, I suppose that means I should g-“

“Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab one from over there.” Spencer quickly finds a solution, standing to walk over to an unused table and fetch another chair. You follow him with your eyes as he lifts it over. Doctor Spencer Reid. Penelope had mentioned the man on multiple occasions. Ever the problem solver, you gathered from her ramblings on the things he would do and say.

Penelope sits in the chair between JJ and Derek, and the latter lets his arm rest on Penelope’s shoulders. As you sit down in Spencer’s sacrificed chair, he pulls another one in between you and JJ, and you both awkwardly smile at each other before you look down to your hands in your lap. “Thank you.” You whisper to him.

“What for?” He whispers back.

“The chair.” You mumble, and he nods.

“It’s no problem.”

“Okay, I say we get some drinks. How bout it, pretty girl?” Derek's words snap you from your awkwardness, and you smile, realising he’s given you a nickname already.

“I am in dire need of a beer.” You reply, and Emily looks at you from your right.

“Beer, huh? I woulda coined you for a vodka redbull kinda girl. All for the thrills.” She looks at you with a smirk and you shake your head with a giggle.

“I’m normally a whiskey kinda girl actually, I get that from my parents. I only very rarely drink vodka, it just makes me want to make out with people.” The embarrassment soaks in the moment the words come out of your mouth and you realise you’ve just told a group of behavioural analysts that vodka makes you horny.

“Alcohol oftentimes does have the effect of making you sexually confident and can heighten feelings of affection and make you more open to try things sexually. One could assume that your specific set of hormones are just more affected by the chemicals in vodka in comparison to other alcohols.” Spencer pulls his lips into a straight line, and you giggle at his readily available information. Penelope wasn’t joking.

“Thanks, Doc.” You bump his shoulder, and he looks a little confused but mumbles a “No problem” anyway. As he looks away towards Derek and Penelope, you take the chance to study his features discreetly. The angle of his jaw perfectly contrasts the softness of his eyes, the honey brown colour almost sparkling within the dim lighting of the bar. His cheeks are tinged pink from the currently inaudible teasing from Derek, and there’s a little smile on his lips that you could almost envision yourself kissing.

Derek breaks you out of your head a second time. “Hey pretty girl, you wanna go get those drinks now?” He flashes you a grin and you smile, nodding.

“Yea let’s do it. Does everyone know what they want?” As you’re trying to split everyone’s orders between you and Derek, Penelope gives you a look that says “do you have the hots for my friend?” and you give her a look back that says “maybe..” she gasps and the whole table turns to look at her, making her realise that she’d turned the conversation into an out loud one now.

“You know what? Us girls can handle those drinks, Derek. Why don’t you have a seat.” She drags you up to the bar and orders quickly before she forgets, and then whips round to face you.

“You like him. I saw it on your face. You like him!!” She whisper shouts and you glance back to Derek and Spencer hunched over the table chatting. You smile.

“Look at him! Of course I like him, who wouldn’t like him? He’s simultaneously cute and hot and I swear men aren’t supposed to work like that.” You whisper shout back at her, and her smiles sadly.

“I wish I could set you up, but he’s taken. And his girlfriend is amazing so I can’t even be mad about it.” She sighs, and you slightly deflate.

“Oh man, I can’t believe the first time in years that I actually want a guy he’s taken. Just my luck, I suppose.” You laugh, and grab the drinks that have been sat on the bar. “Well, it was nice while it lasted.” You shrug your shoulders and head back over to the table with her, handing everyone their drinks and sitting back next to Spencer to sip your own.

After an hour or so, conversation was going a tad dry, and you decided to use an old icebreaker your college roommate had taught you to get things flowing again. “Okay, one after the other I want everyone to tell the group something embarrassing. It can be anything, as long as it’s about you.” Everyone nods in agreement, and Derek starts.

“There was this one time I was flirting with a girl while I was out with my mom. Now that was my first mistake, my mom comes over and starts talkin to this girl askin if she’s my girlfriend. I said momma I’ve only just met her, and she said ‘well then you better hurry up, this girl is far too beautiful for you to pass up’. Before I could even speak, the girl says ‘I think you’re too beautiful to pass up’. She was talkin to my mom! And I just thought hey maybe she’s just tryna get on moms good side, you know? You win over mom, you win over me. But then she spent 10 minutes flirting with my mother until I had to drag her away. My mom will not stop bringing it up just to mock me.”

Spencer cracked up beside you at the story, and you couldn't help laughing a little with him.

Penelope pipes in, “Tell them when this happened.” He grimaces.

“Last year.” He barely says it loud enough to hear, but you all catch it and it sends you all into a fit of laughter.

Rossi reminisces about the time he proposed to one of his ex wives, and she said no. In public. Then later in the day said yes, telling him she just wanted to embarrass him the way his public proposal had embarrassed her.

Hotch talks of the time he finished work early and decided to pick up Jack from school. The teacher had asked him if he was Jack’s grandfather, and he had to explain that he most definitely was not.

“I once hugged my friend from behind to tell her goodbye at a party. It wasn’t my friend.” Is all Emily gives for details. She grimaces at the sheer memory of it, and you can’t help the little smile that graces your lips.

“My turn then?” You question the group, and they nod. “I probably should’ve used this time to think of what I was gonna say. Well I suppose I’ll use the only one that’s currently present in my mind,” You turn to face Spencer, “I was gonna ask you out before Penelope had to drag me away and tell me you were taken. Which was slightly embarrassing for me in the moment, but as I’m saying this I realise I’ve just embarrassed myself even more.” You nod through your internal pain at how stupid you felt, and took a deep breath before trying to move on. Spencer looked too taken aback to let that happen.

“You were gonna ask me out? And Penelope told you I was in a relationship? Why would she do that?” He looks plain confused now, and you mirror his expression.

“I never told you Spencer was in a relationship. I told you Derek was in a relationship, because I thought he was the friend you said you liked! Wait. So when you said he was hot you meant Spencer?” Now even Penelope looked confused, although not exactly for the same reason you were.

“Yes! Of course I meant Spencer! No offence Derek, you’re lovely but you’re not my type.” You rushed, giving him a sheepish smile.

“And I am?” Spencer speaks again.

“Pretty much yea.” The smile he gives you at your words makes you look away nervously.

“So what you mean is that if you hadn’t been told I was taken I could have went on a date with you?” He’s looking inquisitively at your face now, tracing for signs of a lie as he waits for you to respond.

“You still could go on a date with me.” You suggest, with a little shrug and a smile that reaches your eyes.

“I’d like that.” He nods, slightly enthusiastic but trying to play it cool.

“Me too.” You nod with him. “I should probably be heading home, I have work I still need to catch up on. But I could give you my number and you could take me to your favourite place or something. Somewhere I can get to know you just from looking around.” You suggest, gathering your things and scribbling your number down on a spare napkin.

“That sounds good- great. That sounds great.” His eyes are filled with a mixture of excitement and something else you’re not sure about, but the look on his face makes you smile.

“Call me then.” You nod finally, getting up to leave. You give everyone their goodbyes, hugging them all lightly and giving Spencer a little wave.

Over the next few days the anticipation of his call is almost overwhelming. And when your phone begins to ring, an unfamiliar number popping up on the screen, you bite your nail before clicking the answer button. “Hello?”

“Hi.”

A/N: I don’t actually really like this, but it’s fine. I wanna do a part two, someone tell me to do a part two plsplsplspls. (May rewrite this once i’m not jet lagged and cramming it between studying but idk)

[quinnsbrain]

Releasing Tension

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, fem!reader, p in v, blowjob, creampie, no use of protection (don’t be stupid, STDs are bad), idk let me know if there’s more

Synopsis: Spencer is tense and you stumble upon a way to ease his tension. (I don’t know how many times I wrote the word tense in this but it was too many)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

He was always tense. Something about him never seemed to be able to relax, and although he seemed happy sitting up against the armrest of your shared couch, reading a heavy old book - that you couldn’t for the life of you figure the name of since it was printed in russian - you could see his body was slightly rigid, as though he felt he had to be wary. It had always been like that, you’d brought it up to him before and all he said was that “stress is a part of his nature” but that it “didn’t stop him from doing things he enjoyed”.

That seemed to be enough for him. It wasn’t for you, though. “Spence.” You murmured, facing him from the other end of the couch. He glanced up at you, humming his acknowledgement at his name and giving you a small smile. You loved the way even the teeniest of his smiles to you would reach his eyes, making the golden brown almost sparkle.

“Hey, is everything okay?” His soft voice broke you from your thoughts, and you nodded your head.

“Yea I’m fine, was just lookin at you.” He gave a shy smirk at that and tucked a piece of loose hair behind his ear.

“Is that all you wanted? To look at me?” The amusement in his voice was undeniable, and you gave a small shrug to feign nonchalance.

“Mostly just to look at you,” You lifted yourself up and draped yourself over his lap, curling up against him like a cat, “also because I could see how tense you were from the other side of the sofa, and it was agitating me.” You gave a sheepish smile, tucking your head into his chest and he sighed, looking at you as though you’d asked “are we there yet” for the twenty-third time in a half hour trip.

He set his book down on the coffee table and put a hand on your cheek. “I love you baby, you know I do, but you have to understand that I’m just like that. I’m fine, and I know you worry that I’m not okay but it’s just how my body works. It’s how I process stress; from the bau, and from anything else. But I’m okay, and I’m happy. I promise, sweet girl.” His voice was soft and you could hear the steady heartbeat in his chest as he rubbed soothing strokes against your cheekbone with his thumb.

“I love you more.” Is all you replied with, capturing his hand in yours and kissing his palm. You adjusted your position to sit up a little and kiss his cheek, his jaw, his lips. You gave him a peck, both smiling into it like lovesick fools, and resting your foreheads together as you pulled away. This time he leaned back in, connecting your lips, and it was longer, softer.

You moved on his lap again for better access to your kiss, and he sucked in a breath. “Stay still.” He barely got the words out before attaching his lips back onto yours, suddenly feeling much hotter than it was before. You lifted up and moved to straddle him, quickly merging your lips back together. When you fully sat down, Spencer's hips bucked up to meet yours and he let out a breathy groan, tucking his head in your neck and kissing the skin there.

His half hard dick pushed up into you as you sat on him, and the combination of feeling him against your now wet cunt and the way he sucked at the skin just between your neck and shoulder had you letting out a soft whimper. “Doc…”

His hips jumped when he heard you, and he moved his hands to grasp your hips, pushing you down as he rutted himself against your cunt. The wetness that had started to form was now soaking through your pants, the skirt you were wearing pushed up by his hands so he could glance down and see the mess you were making on his trousers.

“Fuck, please… so good baby, feels so good.” His grip on your hips tightened and he gasped into your shoulder, biting down slightly. He was close, and what kind of girlfriend would you be to let him cum in his trousers, when he could cum in your mouth instead?

You lifted yourself to stand, legs wobbly as you had been nearing your own orgasm along with him. He whimpered at the loss of contact, and tried to reach out for you to pull you back, but you just smiled. “Turn around, Doc. I want you facing me.”

Spencer and your’ relationship was normally fairly equal in dynamics. It was all about giving each other pleasure, and so by focusing on each other you both settled into a comfortable situation. If one of you were in the mood to take more control, you would. If you recognised that one of you needed something, you would give it. It was interchangeable, and that was what you enjoyed about it.

A few days before, Spencer had bent you over your kitchen table, fucking into you roughly and leaving marks on your body that you could still faintly see. Now you were giving him a peck on the lips and dropping to your knees, delicately pulling his trousers and boxers down his legs and watching his cock stand against his stomach.

He was very still, eyes wide in anticipation. It looked as though he was trying not to scare you away, and the thought amused you. As you reached to hold him, you raised your eyebrows, silently asking for permission, and he nodded profusely. That encouraged you to wrap your hand around his cock, which was dripping precum, and he hissed as you dragged your hand up and thumbed his head, spreading the precum down his shaft to make it easier to work him.

After you had stroked him a few times, you decided it was probably best to give him what he wanted, so you leaned in and licked from the bottom of his dick to the top, tonguing his slit. His hips involuntarily pushed up, and he leaned his head against the back of the sofa, letting out little breaths as he flexed his fingers against the couch to calm himself.

The sight of him was beautiful, eyes scrunched up, mouth hanging slightly open. You couldn’t help yourself, so you took his head into your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, running your tongue over the sensitive underside of his head. He choked out a groan at the feeling and the noise went straight to your core, soaking your pants even more.

Your clit was throbbing but you refused to pay it any mind as you took him further into your mouth, bobbing your head and stroking what you couldn’t achieve. He was looking down at you now, and when you made eye contact you pushed yourself further down on his cock, making your eyes water.

“‘M not gonna last.. feels too good.” He breathed out, lacing his fingers through your hair and gripping it, but not making a move to control your actions. You moaned around him, mostly just to see his reaction, and you were pleasantly rewarded as he whined, whispering an amalgam of curses and your name.

A tear began to drip down your cheek from taking him so far into your throat, and he lifted the hand that wasn’t in your hair to hold your face and wipe away the tear. Even through the pleasure burning in both his gut and yours, he never failed to do little things that warmed your heart. It gave you the motivation to speed up your motions, bobbing your head faster. The room echoed with the obscene noises of your mouth around him and his little moans that let you know he was ready to cum.

With your free hand, you moved to cup his balls and lightly squeeze and he could barely let out a groan as his breath got caught in his throat.

“I.. I’m-“ He tried to warn you but it was too late, and hot ropes of cum shot into your mouth. His hips stuttered and his grip in your hair tightened, forcing you to groan around his cock as the last ropes of cum filled your mouth until it was dripping down your chin. You carefully suckled his head until he looked satiated, and then pulled away and made sure to look directly into his eyes as you swallowed the mouthful of cum and grinned.

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he grumbled out a “fuck me”, shaking his head and smiling at your display. “C’mere.” He beckoned, helping you to your feet until you re-straddled his lap, centimetres from his still-hard cock.

“Did you like it?” you asked, daring to look timid now, and his eyes widened in disbelief.

“Like it? Did I like it?” He let out a breath and shook his head, swiping his thumb over the cum on your chin, and before he could do anything you pulled his thumb into your mouth, lightly tonguing the pad of his finger. “You are so perfect.” He pulled his thumb from your mouth and replaced it with his lips. “So perfect. I loved it.” The taste of himself in his mouth felt unusual but mixed with the taste of you he couldn’t complain.

You placed your hands onto his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Less tense. I’ll take it.” Your remark made him scoff, and he pulled you in for another kiss - to shut you up you presumed. You didn’t much mind though.

As he pulled away, his head dipped down to kiss just under your chin, and then continue his kisses down your neck. It was soft, showing his gratitude, but you couldn’t help the way your walls clenched at the action despite his intention. “Spence..” You warned - though not exactly sure what you were warning him about - but he understood nonetheless.

“Do you want something?” He teased, acting as though a minute ago he wasn’t moaning and mumbling nonsense as he came in your mouth. His little kisses never ceased, although now they were much less little.

“Please.” Your voice came out whiny and needy and the sound he made in response was almost pained.

“When you ask like that I can’t refuse you. I would do anything if you asked just like that.” He lifted his head to your face, hands pulling at either side of your head to crash his lips against yours, He was somehow soft and rough at the same time, making you unable to breath and unable to want to. “Do you want me inside you baby? Can I be inside you?” He was rushing his words between kisses but you heard them perfectly, and it shot straight to your aching clit.

You pulled away momentarily to question, “Can you go again?” You didn’t want to push him, but he seemed overly enthusiastic about fucking you.

“I need it so bad.” He was almost begging, even though he knew he didn’t have to. You needed this just as much as he did, the begging was just an added bonus.

“Fuck me, then.” You said pointedly.

“Fuck you?”

“Fuck me, Doctor Reid. If you don’t I think I’ll go insane.”

And at that he grinned and flipped you both over, now lying across the couch with Spencer between your legs. He made quick work of pulling your pants down and groaned when he saw the wetness glistening on your pussy lips. “So wet for me, sweet girl. I could never get over how wet you get for me.” He was barely audible, speaking more for himself than to you, and he leaned forward, grabbing his cock and giving himself a few short strokes.

When he was back to being fully hard, he pushed his tip between your lips and against your slit, collecting the wetness and dragging it up over your clit. Your eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, but they soon flew open as he roughly pushed into you without warning, filling you until your pelvises pressed together. The broken cry that left your mouth had him rocking into you as he waited to be told he could move.

He was desperate to fuck into you but he needed your permission and it was driving him insane. His face was nuzzled into your neck and he was inhaling slowly, gripping onto your hips bruisingly to ground himself.

“Move.” You uttered the word and he immediately pulled out half way, slamming back into you like his life depended on it. He set a heavy pace and it wasn’t long until you were a moaning mess, grasping at his arms that were now steadying himself on your hip and next to your head.

“Feel so good baby, you’re so perfect. So perfect for me sweet girl.” The nickname sent a bolt through you and you clenched around him. “Ah fuck, you can’t do that to me baby I won’t last.” He warned, but that’s what you wanted, so you laced your fingers through his hair and synonymously pulled at his hair as you tightened around him. The shocked moan he let out sent waves down your spine and you could feel that familiar coil tightening in your gut.

“I need you to cum for me Doc. Cum inside me Spencer.” He couldn’t reply, only whimpering in response as his pace lost its rhythm, sharp thrusts combining with shallow ruts as he began to reach his peak. His hand on your hip trailed over and began to rub small circles on your clit as his hips began to spasm and he warned with small groans that he was close.

Your orgasm sweeped over your body and your thighs tightened around his waist as you whined, white flashing in your eyes as the pleasure overtook you. You gasped and came back down as Spencer stilled, cum spilling deep inside you as his body lightly shook with the pleasure. He stayed like that, hips pushed as far against you as they could go, head rested on your shoulder as he gasped in little breaths of air while he calmed.

When he felt he could move, he pulled out of you and collapsed on top of you, his cum beginning to drip from your spent hole but neither of you moved to clean yourselves up. You lay there for what could have been minutes or hours, not saying a word, until you broke the silence. “Definitely not tense now.” You whispered, and you both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Hey, I’ll admit to being tense all the time if it ends like that.” He mumbled against your skin, and you chuckled.

“We could always just do that anyway.” You replied, and he hummed in agreement.

He planted a soft kiss to your jaw, unable to lift his head much further, and moved his hand to hold your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Thank you.” He spoke quietly against you.

“Always, Doc.” You turned to kiss his palm and fell back into comfortable silence, almost sure Spencer was falling asleep.

[quinnsbrain]

Anything For You

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: nsfw, unprotected p in v, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, lemme know if there’s more

Synopsis: you’re a spiderwoman who’s a little different, and due to this you experience an intense hormone change when ovulating. it sucks. he makes it not suck.

A/N: me???? posting??? for the first time in four months????? noooooo surely not. it’s true, but it’s old smut so i apologise. workin on new stuff rn. (also pls request stuff if you feel like it maybe)

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

You were in a terrible mood, and Miguel noticed the moment you entered the room. Most days you were upbeat and cheery, sometimes one would say a tad too cheery. But Miguel would take too cheery over this any day. You were quiet, and when he asked you questions he had to repeat himself several times for you to realise you were being spoken to.

When you had started working with Miguel, it was because HR had never had a spider person with your abilities before, and they wanted Miguel to monitor and enhance them. Miguel wasn’t entirely upset by it, but it wasn’t something he looked forward to, until one day he was frustrated with a new addition to his lab tech, and you solved it for him within a matter of minutes. That’s the first time you remember him saying more than a few words to you at once.

He requested you continue working with him, and he continued to monitor you. It was a win win situation, and you both grew to enjoy each others company. Until today, when you were unbearably unlike yourself and Miguel could actually hear his own thoughts for the first time in months. He hated it, but he persevered, seeing that it wasn’t his place to interfere with your mood. He just hoped you’d feel better soon, because something was obviously seriously wrong.

And then you slammed your fist into the wall and left a sizeable hole to be repaired, and Miguel shot out of his seat from the noise. He was about to ask you what the actual fuck you thought you were doing, when you took a seat on the floor and laid your head against the wall below it’s puncture wound. Your breathing was heavy, and your face was flushed red. Miguel was too concerned to be angry now, and decided to take a seat beside you.

“Talk to me.” He turned his head to face yours.

“There’s not much to say.” You replied, closing your eyes.

“Well for starters, what’s got you clearing through my wall? Tell me what’s on your mind, mi amor.” He was never one to comfort people, but it felt easy to slip his hand onto your thigh, hoping that it eased your mind. It had a different effect, and he could smell the arousal that leaked so quickly from you. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was his touch, so he pushed his hand a little further to the inside of your thigh and the scent flooded his brain even more. So it was him.

“Miguel…” You snapped him from the daze your scent had put him in, “Don’t freak out. I want scientist, all business no play Miguel. Not that you’re ever anything else. But i’m being serious, i need you to take this information formally.” You finally turned to look him in the eye and he nodded confirmation. “I’m ovulating. And I don’t know why, i think it’s the increased hormones from being a spiderwoman, but when i’m ovulating it feels like i’m on fucking fire and the only thing that seems to help is- you know…” You break eye contact again, embarrassed.

“Having an orgasm?” You see his head tilt out of the corner of your eye and nod, your face a deep shade of red. “Okay, from a specifically formal and scientific point of view, I'd say your particular set of hormones are already pretty different from other spider people and that’s giving a decent indication that it’ll probably affect your sex drive. Which means that it’ll increase the pressure you feel physically to get that relief, because your body is pushing for fertilisation. From a non-scientific, best friend standpoint however… you just really gotta get off, cariño.” He shrugs his shoulders and chuckles a little, then adds, “And for fucks sake do it soon, you’re so aroused I can smell it.”

Your face goes impossibly more red and your eyes widen. “Miguel!” You shove him with the palm of your hand, and he laughs.

“It’s true, it’s fucking intoxicating.” You let out a breath, and another wave of arousal pulses through you.

“You’re just gonna have to deal with the intoxication then, because I’ve tried. Multiple times,” You answer before he even asks, “And the feeling still won’t go away. I’m doomed to be sexually frustrated until this thing is over.” You sigh, and look over at him. He inhales.

“What have you tried? Scientifically.” He’s no longer looking at you, eyes closed, focusing. You’ve realised that he does that when he can’t concentrate and needs to clear his head. What you haven’t realised is that he also does that when he’s trying to calm an impending erection. Right now he seems to be doing it for both of those reasons.

“Scientifically? Everything.” You humour him, and you see his little smirk at the running joke.

“Fingers?” He sounds strained.

“Yes.” Your voice drops a level.

“Toys?”

“Mhmm.” He looks at you with an eyebrow raised. “Yes.” You're almost whispering now.

“Anything else?” You mumble something that he can’t quite pick up. “What was that?” He opens his eyes and looks at you again.

“…Pillow.” It’s barely audible, but it echos in his brain.

“Inventive.” His approval is obvious.

“Shut up.”

He ignores you. “So the only thing you haven’t tried is a person?”

“Pretty much, yea.” The casualness of the conversation has returned slightly, and you’re glad for it.

“So just bang an intern, they all drool over you when you turn your back.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“They do..? That’s not the point. I will not be shagging an intern. I’m not interested in the interns.” You mutter, getting frustrated by his suggestions. “Look it’s fine, I'll handle it. I just need to persevere.”

“You’re not gonna stay like that. I can’t handle having you grumpy in the office for the next few days, your mood is the only remotely positive thing about this place. Plus there’s the fact that you’re literally knocking my brain out of my head just from the smell of you, so we’ll both be useless. We’ll figure this out and get you feeling better, princesa.” Your arousal at the nickname makes his brain go fuzzy this time, and the dots begin to connect. He looks you in the eyes and moves closer to you.

“What?” Your breath goes uneven, and he smirks.

“¿Te excitan mis palabras? Creo que sí. Look at you, mi pequeña araña sensible, mojándose toda con solo mis palabras. Me pregunto si podría hacerte venir sólo con llamarte la princesa que eres.” His voice drops and he sounds almost hungry.

“Don’t fuck with me when i’m like this Miguel, it’s not fair.” You whisper, but all he does is lean closer to you.

“Who says I’m fucking with you, cariño... I think I’ve realised what you need.” He licks his lips, and your eyes dart to stare at the action.

“And what’s that..?” You barely get the words out before he leans in and captures you in a kiss, the most earth shattering, ground shaking, impossibly soft kiss he could’ve ever given you. You feel goosebumps form over your whole body.

He breaks away to mutter against your lips, “Me.” He scoops you up and walks through to the spare room that you forced him to convert into a “comfy space”. In other words, a room with a twin bed, small unit full of your shared clothes (his clothes), and a bar, for nights where you were close to a breakthrough on something new and neither of you planned on going home until it was finished. He realised in this moment that he was extremely glad you convinced him to create this room.

He dropped you on the bed and pressed the little button behind your ear, dissolving your suit and leaving you in just your bra and pants. He then did the same for himself, and made his way between your legs. “Fuck me, princesa. I could get high on that scent.” His head dipped in between your thighs and he buried his face into the wet spot on your pants, inhaling. You were so sensitive that his action made you shiver and you reached out to run your fingers through his hair. Eventually he decided that he wanted to taste you, so he looked up into your eyes while he bared his fangs and used them to rip your pants clean off.

You gasped in surprise but it soon turned into a moan as he parted your lips and pressed his tongue flat against your opening, dragging upward and over your clit to make it wet. “You’re fucking soaked for me, cariño. Sabes tan perfecta.” His groan is cut short as he dips his tongue back into your wetness, spreading more up onto your clit and giving it a soft suck. Your hips jumped up off the shitty mattress at his motion, and you could feel your coil tightening already.

“Please Miguel, I need you. Please.” You begged him, no longer caring for dignity or embarrassment as he slid a finger inside you and simultaneously latched onto your clit, licking and sucking like his life depended on it. You grasped his hair between your fingers and pulled, and it made him moan out onto your already throbbing clit. He pumped his finger in and out a few more times before adding a second and it drove you over the edge. “Fuck Miguel, I’m gonna cum!” Your voice rose to a whine and you came hard around his fingers, his mouth still on your clit sucking softly. He hummed his approval, eyes never leaving your face as you convulsed around him. As your breath slowly calmed, he removed his fingers from your dripping cunt and placed them in his mouth, taking every last bit of cum onto his tongue and looking you in the eyes as he did it.

“You know, cariño, you could have just told me you needed me. All you had to do was ask. I’ll do anything for you, you know that.” He states as he works his way up your body and comes face to face with you, emphasising his points with kisses on your skin. “I wish you’d asked sooner, I would’ve fucked you senseless so long ago.” He breathes out, leaning his forehead into yours.

You reach down and take his length in your hand, giving a soft squeeze and his eyelids flutter shut. “Can I-” He nods vigorously before you can finish your question, burying his face in your neck in anticipation and you chuckle at the reaction. His cock throbs as you slowly jerk it, collecting the precum running from his tip and spreading it down his shaft. Soon enough he’s moaning roughly in your ear.

“Please mi amor, let me inside you. Need you so bad.” He’s practically begging, and it almost pushes you over the edge a second time. You hastily drag his tip between your pussy lips and collect your wetness and cum onto him, skimming over your clit and making your body thrum in the process. His eyes bore into yours now and you can almost see the ache in him pouring out from them. You push him into you slowly and he drags a breath in through his mouth, moaning as he pushes the air back out.

He bottoms out inside you and you both simultaneously whimper at the feeling. You try to speak, to tell him how good he feels when he pulls out and slams back in again, effectively shutting you up and leaving you with your mouth agape and eyes scrunched shut. He kisses around your face and neck as he pushes into you again and again, rough breaths and soft groans pouring from both of you.

That familiar feeling ignites in your gut once again, and your hands claw at Miguel’s shoulders. “‘M gonna cum, please Miguel.” You beg, clenching around him and his hips stutter at the motion.

“Fuck baby, cum for me. Cum around my cock, cariño.” His gruff voice faltering to pure perfect moans as his high steadily approaches too. His thrusts get impossibly harder and faster, and he reaches a hand down to press quick circles into your spent clit and it drags you into your second orgasm, shaking and clenching around him, barely able to let out whimpers of his name as the feeling envelops you.

The feeling of you clenching and pulsing around his cock is what sends him over, digging his fingers bruisingly into your waist and burying his face in your neck as he stilled inside of you, shooting hot ropes of cum deep into your pussy. His soft groans were barely audible over the blood pumping in your ears, but you could still hear him, feel him.

“Thank you, mi amor.” He whispered after you can both come down from your highs and relaxed.

“Thank you, more like.” You sigh, looking at him as he lifts his head from where it rested on your shoulder. “No more wall punching, promise.” That made him chuckle, and he pulled out of you, begrudgingly getting up.

“Back to work.” You had synonymously groaned, looking at each other with a smile.

A/N: back again, woohooo!! but seriously pls request smth pls pls pls i need to get my creative juices flowing again. should i make a request prompts post?

[quinnsbrain]

Restraint

Tarzan x Clayton

Warnings: bondage, chastity ??, he’s wanking him idk what else to say mate.

Synopsis: Tarzan asks Clayton to show him what human desires are like, Clayton teaches him how torture can intensify desires. (idk bro js read it)

Not proofread cuz i can’t be arsed

NSFW UNDER THE CUT: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

ohmygodihopethisisokay

He had never really been indulgent in his desires. He lived with a group, and your priorities are much different in those circumstances. Life was survival mostly, but that was his kind of fun. Until the day the humans showed up, and he realised that life didn’t have to be all about survival. In learning about the human species, he found out about the countless desires and sex was one he found particularly interesting. They do it for fun. That’s spectacular. So he went to the person he thought would handle it the best, Clayton. Clayton was the kind of man who was agressive and dominant in everything, and Tarzan thought that would come in handy. And that’s how he got to where he was now.

Tied up by his arms and legs, gagged with a long piece of cloth across his mouth, and dripping with precum as Clayton rubbed his tip lightly with the pads of his fingers. Clayton had concocted a drink beforehand that tasted awful, a mixture of multiple aphrodisiacs all in one, and Tarzan nearly spat it in his face. He could feel the effects now, only ten minutes into his torture and feeling hazed and burning with desire. “Pheesh.” He whined incoherently, straining against the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

“What was that?” Clayton rubbed his thumb harshly over Tarzan’s slit and his back arched, “Please? Please what?” He was taunting him, rubbing slow circles on his tip and waiting for a response.

“Ma’ it fhl beh’r.” His words were jumbled from the mixture of the gag and his incessant moaning due to Clayton’s fingers moving down to his shaft and giving a rough squeeze. He went lightheaded at the pleasure.

“Aw, that’s cute. Make it feel better, eh? That what you want?” He began to stroke Tarzan’s cock faster, eliciting a “Mmh!” and a ferocious nod from the man. “Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel all better.” His stroking became faster, and Tarzan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“Mmph, yeh.” He let out muffled moans, still managing to be so so loud, and Clayton got hard from the sound.

“Fuck, I could torture you like this all day.” And on those words, he slowed his movements to a painfully leisurely pace, making Tarzan whine again. His hand was so unhurried it was torture, for both Tarzan and Clayton. He was much too focused on driving Tarzan insane to notice his own need though. And it was working. The man was moaning and whining like nothing else, and every few minutes he would give a tug to his ropes, hoping that they might come loose.

Soon it got too much for even Clayton to bare, having to resist rubbing himself over his clothes while he jerked Tarzan’s cock faster, earning little “Mmhm”s from the gagged man. He could feel that Tarzan wasn’t long from reaching his peak now, tensing his muscles and tipping his head back, so he took pity on the man and sped his movements even more. Tarzan’s slightly panicked noises snapped Clayton slightly back from his arousal and he had to laugh.

“It’s alright you dumb animal, you can feel that you’re close to cumming, that’s all.” He looked the man in the eyes as he spoke to him. Tarzan’s eyes glossed over and his teeth clenched over the gag, spilling over himself and Clayton’s hand as he worked him through his orgasm. His groans echoed and he almost passed out from the years of pent up desire pouring out of him. Clayton saw Tarzan’s thick ropes of cum slow and stop, but continued the abuse on his cock, overstimulating him until the noises he was making sounded as though he was being tortured in a different way. Even though the high pitched cries pleased his ears, he let go of the man’s cock and wiped the cum off his hand onto his trousers.

He pulled the gag off of Tarzan’s face and the man immediately sucked in a breath. He then lazily untied him and chucked the ropes onto the floor, walking away for a moment while Tarzan caught his breath. As he appeared back in front of Tarzan, he was holding something out in his hand. “You see this?” He waved about the chastity cage. “This, is goin’ on you. And you’re gonna wear it until you need me again, then you can come back and i’ll unlock it for you. Got it?” He applied the cage to Tarzan’s softening length and looked up at the man’s face.

“…Why?” He asked, not protesting Clayton’s movements but still curious.

“Because then no one else will ever touch you. If I’m not there, you don’t cum. Simple.” Tarzan nodded along, understanding. “We’re done. You can leave.” Clayton muttered, moving on to cleaning up and doing other things, leaving Tarzan to make his way. Once the man was gone and out of eyesight, he pulled out his own dripping, throbbing cock, wrapping his hand around it and getting to work.

Tags: @princeasimdiya12 i hope this isn’t shite by the way mate

[quinnsbrain]

Lonely

Pairing: alucard/adrian tepes x reader

Synopsis: he was alone until you came along. all you asked for was knowledge, and all he asked for was company. until one day, you realised he really wanted a little more…

Warnings: really intense handjob???

⚠️SMUT WARNING⚠️ okay you’ve been warned so it’s your own fault now

He had always been restless. From the moment you started living there you’d noticed him rustling around at night. You weren’t entirely sure whether it was due to the walls being thin or the fact that you paid close attention to him at all times. You didn’t want to be sure either. But tonight was different, he had barely slept in weeks but tonight he hadn’t slept at all and you could hear him muttering to himself. At one point you even thought you heard him say your name.

When you had arrived, all you had really wanted was for him to teach you even some of what he knew. You’d have given anything, offering cooking, cleaning, sparring practice. Back then you didn’t really care how he needed you, all you needed was his knowledge in return. Over the course of the months you’d stayed there however, that need had morphed into one of him in general. His knowledge was wonderful, but the lense had started to focus more on the way his mouth formed the words and less on the actual words themselves

And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t noticed the small cues in him too, you’d stared at him long enough to note them. At first he took pride in teaching you, knowing that he was able to pass his knowledge onto someone who wanted it. But as your needs changed, his pleasures changed too. Now he had more glee from the way your eyes lit up when he showed you something magnificent, the way your face pulled into a grin when he tasted - and liked - your cooking, the way your beautiful breaths and moans sounded as you touched yourself at night. The latter was his favourite. He knew you listened for him at night, it brought little weights of peace to his mind, letting him drift off. And every few nights he pretended to fall asleep, evening his breaths and staying as still as he could muster, just so he could hear your beautiful sounds.

He knew you only did it when you thought he was asleep. What he didn’t know was that you had known for a while that he was pretending. You didn’t mind, his pleasure was something you took interest in anyway, so you let him have his hidden fantasies when you had yours. You had been particularly not in the mood the past few weeks though, so your touching had momentarily stopped. This wasn’t a very big deal to you. Adrian, however, had been unable to have a proper night's rest for weeks.

He lay in his bed and stayed there. All night. No sleep, no comfort, nothing. He knew you were aware of him, he knew you’d notice if he got up. So he stayed, hoping that time would heal his lack of sleep and the next night would be better. It was not. So tonight, he lay in possibly every sleeping position one could think of. He was starting to get frustrated, mumbling out his feelings until he heard his door open. You stepped inside, wearing your silk nightdress. He had seen you wearing it before a few times in the mornings when you had decided you weren’t ready to be dressed for the day. It still knocked the wind out of him.

He sat up as you approached, sitting on the edge of his bed, turning your torso to face him. “You’ve barely slept in weeks, if at all,” You softly take his hand in yours, resting your other on his thigh. “You need to relax, Adrian. It’s not good for you.” You look him in the eyes and he sighs, a small smile beginning to form on his lips.

“What exactly do you propose I do about it? I have been trying, you know.” His grip on your hand is firm but his expression is soft, exhausted.

“I think… you need me,” You whisper carefully, hand moving from his thigh to caress the side of his face. “I’m not sure how I'm needed but from what I've learned living here, I’m somehow a relaxer for you. And your not sleeping is making me restless, which i’ve realised is because your peace gives me peace. So now we’re both stuck until I can help you sleep.” Your thumb gives slow strokes to his cheekbone and you both sigh simultaneously.

“I do need you. You bring me peace, clarity. Normally the only nights I sleep well are nights I can hear you. It’s like a lullaby.” He admits, bowing his head but looking back up at you, like acknowledging that he should be embarrassed, but he isn’t. You both know he isn’t.

“Wait a second. I thought you were getting off to the sound of me… you know.” Your sentence turns from confident to insecure in a matter of words, suddenly realising how taboo the topic really is.

“I didn’t know you knew that I could hear you touching yourself. I’m sorry if i ever-“

“I liked it. I was never uncomfortable. I took it as transactional really, you thought I didn’t know, I thought you didn’t know, but it was there. Silent agreement.” You smile, reassuring him, and move your hand back down to his thigh. He almost asks you to put it back, but keeps his mouth shut.

“To answer your previous statement, I never used you to gain any other relief than the relief of sleep. I wouldn’t dream of touching myself to you without asking first. The problem was only asking.” He chuckles, looking up at you earnestly. His movements are quick and it catches you off guard as he throws his arms around your body and arranges you onto your back on the bed. He then crawls between your legs and lays his head against the base of your neck. “This should help me sleep.” He murmurs into your skin, breathing in the scent of you. He sounds intoxicated, and you indulge him.

“I wonder… If you’ve never gotten off to me, do you not get pent up? I mean I’ve been here for months, don’t you get frustrated?” You think aloud as you lace your fingers through his hair with one hand, and hold him in place by his back with the other.

“I take pleasure in your pleasure, dear. I do not need to succumb to my desires to feel fulfilled, I only need to know that you’ve gotten yours. But yes, I suppose sometimes I can get… frustrated. I am part human after all.” He takes another deep inhale of you and silence falls over you as you think. The fingers laced in his hair massage his scalp, and you can feel his approval as he nuzzles further into you, weighing down your body with his own. You give his scalp a gentle scratch with your nails and he almost purrs, his fingers digging into your hips.

“God that feels good.” He whispers against you, and you do it again just to feel his reaction. His breathy moan echo’s in your head and you almost stop your massaging as the sound coaxes you into a daze. His next noise snaps you out of your daze, a frustrated groan barely making it out of his throat.

“I think you’re more pent up than you think you are.” At your words, he turns his head to look up at you.

“I suppose you’re correct.” His fangs glisten, and you have the sudden urge to feel them against your mouth, so you dip your head down and pull him into a kiss. He immediately responds, a slow but hungry rhythm forming. His fang catches your lip and you hiss, quickly soothed by his mouth as he latches onto your lip and licks away the forming beads of blood. When your lip is clean, he tucks his head back down into your neck. “I’m beginning to feel needy.” He chuckles at himself.

“Needy for..?” You tilt his face back up to look at you.

“Release.” He leads your hand down to just between your thighs, against him. And he’s hard. So hard in fact, that he immediately pulls in a sharp breath at the soft touch, facial muscles pulling into a grimace. “I feel it all now. Now that you’ve indulged me, I can feel all the times I didn’t indulge myself.” His words are rushed and hazy, and he never breaks eye contact with you.

You look at him, and then you wrap your hand around him through his pyjama bottoms and squeeze. He all but whimpers, his gaze clouding with something you hadn’t seen before. “Adrian?” He nods at you, acknowledging that he’s still mentally present. “I want to help you. Can I help you?” He nods again, much more eager. Slipping into being slightly less mentally present.

You pull down his waistband and grip his length, feeling the size of it. You move to his tip, spreading the dripping precum down his shaft and using it to softly stroke him. His noises reduce now to breathy whines, and he lays his head back down at the base of your neck. You can tell he’s already close, so you keep the slow steady rhythm to prolong his pleasure, or maybe yours. Soon after, his hips start to move on their own accord, pushing up into your hand faster. He’s a mess, you can hear just how far along he is. You can practically feel his body vibrating.

“So close… I’m gonna…” He didn’t even finish his sentence before he began to shoot hot cum onto your hand. His entire body stills, frozen into place by the waves of pleasure, so you stroke him through it until the thick ropes fade into nothing. He still doesn’t move, just lays there panting against your skin and gripping you like his life depends on it.

“Adrian… are you alright?” When he finally looks up at you, you remove your hand and hold it up to your face, licking his cum off as you await his answer.

“Fucking hell. That was amazing, but I think I may not be quite finished yet.” He whispers sheepishly. Your eyebrows furrow and you look back at your now clean hand.

“But you just…”

“Vampire stamina..?” He offers, a tired grin falling to his lips and making you smile.

“Well then, I suppose we’d better get to work shouldn’t we?” You offer back, your brow raising to match his smirk.

[quinnsbrain]

as a follow on from the last thing i posted, i’ve decided to take it upon myself to do: miguel o’hara headcanons pt.2 (nsfw edition)

BEWARE, NSFW UNDER THE CUT (you have been warned)

- let’s be real here, he’s an absolute fiend for pussy. your pussy, to be specific. he would happily spend hours lying lazily between your legs eating you out. after your first couple orgasms he slows a bit, letting you relax into peaceful pleasure, but as he senses your nerves pricking up again he begins to eat you out like he’s starved, praying for just a little more of you to drink in. his prayers are answered.

- on the topic of praying, sometimes, very very rarely, he’ll let you be dominant in bed. oftentimes when this happens, he kneels down in-front of your very naked body and prays to you. he absolutely worships you, and he would never have it any other way. and once he’s finished his prayer, he kisses his way back up your body until he’s standing over you, and he gives you this look that lets you know exactly what’s going to be happening.

- cockwarming. let me explain- he loves you, right? and we’ve established that he loves the taste of you, but he also loves the feeling of you. and sometimes just cumming inside you isn’t enough. sometimes he just needs to stay there… for hours… he’ll hold you up with one arm and pad about his at-home workspace, doing little things, tidying mostly. then he’ll bring you back to bed and lay down, still inside you. you sleep through most of it, having been so exhausted by the multiple rounds of orgasms he put you through earlier in the day that you just collapse into slumber in his arms afterwards, and he stays inside you anyway. as he lays down with your sleeping body, cunt securely wrapped around him, he’ll either fall asleep with you or wake you up for more. just depends how he’s feeling.

- sometimes miguel gets a little… feral. he’ll be on a mission for a few days, and then he’ll be back and you’re rushed off into one for a few days too. sometimes you’re both gone a couple weeks, and when that gets added up… you see miguel doesn’t touch himself when he’s away, he doesn’t cave into the desires he has. he works hard and he knows he’ll get home to you, so he doesn’t waste his time. you do the same. so when you get home and he’s not in work, someone saying he had to leave due to being unusually ill, you’re concerned. until you get home and he’s writhing about in bed, grinding against the mattress, trying so hard not to cum for you but leaking everywhere… and when you call his name softly, when his head turns and he sees you, eyes locking with his, pupils blown wide… something in him snaps. like i said, feral.

- miguel doesn’t like to call what he does “dirty talk”. he just says he likes to tell you what he’s thinking. if that’s what you call groaning praise so roughly into your ear that it almost pushes you over the edge, asking you to tell him exactly how badly you want him inside you, murmuring against your lips how good you taste… both sets…

- he’s absolutely whipped, and peter likes to tell him that. so sometimes he likes to assert his dominance, just so that you know you don’t entirely control him (you do). but on the odd day he feels the need to assert said dominance, he pushes you to lay down on the bed and fucks your throat so hard you both see stars. you can sense when he’s getting close when he does that, because he pauses and throbs in your mouth for a while to prolong it. so when he pushes himself back into your throat, you swallow, tightening around him. he has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop himself from cumming but you just do it again and he almost collapses as he spills cum down your throat.

okay i’m done for now because i’ll end up writing a whole oneshot lmfao

do we like? do we want more? do we want to go back to sfw? do we want other characters/fandoms? let me know pretty please

part 1

[quinnsbrain]

okay so i’ve been having a bit of a miguel o’hara obsession lately (by lately i mean since across the spiderverse came out) so here’s some headcanons for miguel !!!

- i just know he loves to give physical touch, like you’ll be working on something and he’ll just come up behind you and wrap his arms around you and breathe you in.

- now we know he loves giving physical touch, but he’s still a bit jumpy when he gets it. but as soon as he realises that it’s okay he just melts into you like he was programmed to respond to your touch, sighing in content.

- he doesn’t know how to show affection so he often buys you flowers, rotating between different types, and he always keeps one so that he knows when to buy you more (sometimes he likes to experiment and grow some himself, trying out different natural dyes when he’s bored and giving you roses in your favourite colour).

- he’s a “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” kind of guy, so whenever you leave without breakfast in the morning, you get to your desk and there’s a little basket with breakfast in it and a lil note that says “eat - M” on it because i mean yea.

- he drinks coffee, like a lot, so every so often when he gets himself another coffee refill he’ll bring you a coffee/tea to your desk depending on how you’re feeling. he never asks, he just knows.

- you used to be located fairly far away from him but he got annoyed having to swing so far to talk to you, so he (being him) had your desk moved from community work space into a sizeable office. you protested at first by saying that your job title wasn’t high enough for an office like that and he couldn’t disagree, so the next day you got into work and found out you had miraculously been promoted… miraculously.

okay what do we think of this? do we want more? do we want nsfw? (by we i mean literally anyone pls i need moots)

[quinnsbrain]

might start writing drabbles… oh my god who even am i (feeling very slay)

[quinnsbrain]

The best ship dynamic is actually just. "I love you and it terrifies me. I'm terrified how much I need you and how much I want you to need me. I'm terrified I'm no good for you and I'm going to hurt you and ruin you and I'm terrified of how I feel when you're around me but I can't bear to push you away completely because I'm terrified to be without you so now we're stuck in limbo and that's terrifying too. I'm terrified that if I lost you now it'd destroy me and I'm terrified that it's too late to do anything about it. I love you. And it's terrifying."

[quinnsbrain]

“The opposite of love is not hate; it’s indifference.”

— Elie Wiesel