#Best Sleeping Positions for Health | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gloomwitchwrites · 5 months ago

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morning after one night stand with 141?

Anon! You have me kicking my feet and giggling over here!! I am cackling so hard omg. I've been waiting for a prompt like this, and I know it has been sitting in my inbox for a while. (Really there are a ton sitting in my inbox and I will get to them all I promise). But after feeling like garbage and having some health issues, this prompt just came to me naturally and I didn't need to force anything. I thought it would be best to tackle this first on my dive back into fulfilling these requests after the 1k follower event.

I went spicy with this one. I won't lie. Because, let's be real, a morning after with any of these four will only end up with you still in that bed. I know I'd fold instantly. No question about it.

Content & Warnings: swearing, unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie, feelings, oral sex (male & female receiving), sex w/ and w/o condoms, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, aftercare

Word Count: 3.6k

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

John Price

The ceiling fan above you spins slowly. It’s not nearly enough air. Your skin is sticky with sweat, and you’ve hardly slept at all.

The sheets you’re tangled in are thin, but what can you expect from a cheap hotel?

All of this was last second. A moment of tipsy-laced passion. Now you’re reaping the consequences. And the air is too damp, too hot, too—

Fuck.

You glance to your right, at the man softly snoring beside you. All the memories from last night appear before your eyes, replaying like a grainy recording. Images of all the positions this man put you in, and how fucking good his dick felt inside you.

Even now, you still feel the slight sting in your scalp from when he tangled his fingers in your hair while you took him into your mouth.

You need to leave. You need to leave with a thread of your dignity in tact before he wakes up. Before John wakes. You know the name well enough. He had you screaming it nearly all night. Insisted on it, and you happily obliged.

Shifting slightly, you shimmy to the very edge of the bed, trying your hardest to sit up without making too much noise or rocking the bed. Swinging your legs around, you push up, coming to an upright position, feet planting firmly on the floor. Between your legs is a mess. You don’t have to see it to know.

Most of the night, John used condoms. But when the two of you finally curled up together, John had slid his hand between your thighs and parted you just enough to push right on in. You didn’t protest. You had sighed heavily, and then groaned when he rocked his hips, moving inside you.

In the moment you didn’t care. Not one bit. In a way, you still don’t, but what the fuck were you thinking?

You breathe in deep through your nostrils and then exhale slowly through your mouth. Lingering won’t help. You need to collect your clothes from the floor and leave.

As you open your eyes, and blink, you’re faced with your reflection. The full-length mirror against the wall shows the carnage from the night, but it’s not your appearance that has you pausing.

It’s John.

He’s awake.

And he’s staring right at you.

“You leaving me already?” His voice is husky. Sleep-tinged. The sound of it goes straight to your pussy.

“No,” you reply automatically.

He yawns, muscled chest flexing. “You’re lying, love.”

Your limbs do not cooperate. Move. That’s what you need, but your body isn’t listening. It’s melting instead, wanting to draw back into his arms.

“Am I?”

He nods, and rubs his large hand across his chest. The dark hairs there are tempting. You remember running your hands over those pectorals, and how your fingers dug in as you used him to rock back against his cock.

John pushes up and reaches over, that hand pressing against your back lightly, rubbing soft circles.

Fuck.

“Come here,” he says softly, and yet it isn’t soft at all.

It’s not pleading. It’s not exactly a command. John isn’t demanding anything and yet you are unable to form any will of your own. It’s like John has just taken a shot of whiskey.

Finally, your limbs move, but it is not away from him. Your feet find the bed again, and John is grabbing onto your thighs and waist, drawing you back. The whimper you release when both of his hands grasp the backs of your thighs as he pulls you into his lap is obscene. It’s silly. Downright ridiculous.

But it’s cut off. Cinched.

John’s mouth is on yours and then you’re kissing him. It is open-mouthed. A bit messy. But fuck is it good. His hands slide up your thighs, over the curve of your ass, and meander their way over your back. One arm wraps around your waist while the other comes up to your throat.

He won’t let you leave. He won’t allow you to slip away. John’s hand seems so large against your throat, and yet you don’t care. It’s possessive the way he claims your mouth. When you begin to wiggle, John growls, and you’re flipped onto your back.

John doesn’t cease kissing you, and his hands are everywhere. Your legs effortlessly part from him, and you feel his hard cock pressing against your thigh.

What’s one more? Couldn’t hurt.

You shift your hips, and it’s like John already knows. Drawing your legs up and into a more bent position, there is little effort in the way he buries himself to the hilt. You almost choke on your next breath but that is all you have.

There is nothing lazy or soft about this. John’s hips snap forward and back, skin smacking against skin. He presses his face against the side of your head, lips brushing along the lien of your jaw as he continues to relentlessly fuck you into the bed. Your hands claw at his back, fingers digging for a semblance of steadiness.

“Can’t leave yet,” he huffs against your throat.

Your face shifts toward him and John takes this opportunity to find your lips again, and this kiss is so much different. It is passionate, and speaks to something more desperate than a mere need.

This is only supposed to be a night. A fun, drunken fuck you can latch onto your belt.

But no. That’s not what this is.

Not really.

John "Soap" MacTavish

The air conditioning kicks in, and that is what wakes you. A cool burst of air travels over your skin, making you shiver, pulling you from sleep.

You groan, snuggling against the warmth you’re curled against. It’s a comforting warmth. A bit soft with some hardness too. Not completely comfortable but better than the blast of cold air.

When you sink further against this warmth, it shifts beneath you. Dazedly, you blink, pulling back slightly from this nice heat you don’t wish to leave. Your cheek grazes against something scratchy and then you’re frowning down at chiseled pectorals.

The night before comes rushing forward. It is a battering ram of information, one that sends your already foggy brain into overload.

“Morning, love.” The husky, Scottish voice grounds you, slamming you back to reality.

You twist slightly and are greeted by soft blue eyes and a lazy smile.

“Johnny,” you murmur.

“Remembered my name,” he laughs. He reaches over to grasp the back of your thigh, drawing it over his waist. That large hand of his squeezes gently and you shiver.

“You remember mine?” you ask, teasing back.

He hums softly, and then draws you in, whispering your name against your lips.

This was a one-time thing. A quick hookup. You met Johnny at a pub. He had zeroed in on you instantly, making his way toward you with eagerness like he knew he wanted you out of everyone there that night.

And you had melted. Complied. Fallen for his Scottish accent that only seemed to thicken the more he drank. He cracked jokes, and gave you all of his attention. It was nice to be wanted for once, and when he discreetly asked you if you wanted to go back to his place, you didn’t hesitate.

But the morning is here. It has come calling. And now you’re left with the consequences.

“I need to go,” you murmur, drawing away from him.

Embarrassment is starting to sink in. You have no idea what you might look like at the moment but it can’t be anything other than a mess. Your makeup is likely smeared, hair tangled like a bird’s nest, and you fucking ache everywhere.

Which is fucking understandable because Johnny has stamina. You’ve never been with a man with such quick recovery time. He’d finish, take a couple minutes, and come right back at it like he wasn’t winded at all. He also put you in all sorts of weird positions.

No wonder you’re sore.

Johnny’s face falls slightly, and his arms tighten, keeping you crushed against him. “Don’t want to stay for a bit? Could grab some breakfast.”

He’s offering it to you casually as if your rejection won’t mean anything, but you see the hesitation in his gaze. Johnny wants you to say “yes” and yet you don’t know why. It could just be a show of kindness. An offering of nourishment after the workout he put you through last night. But perhaps it’s something more?

No. That’s silly. Ridiculous.

The two of you met just last night. If anything, the two of you have only known each other for twelve hours. That’s hardly enough to go on.

But breakfast sounds lovely.

When you don’t answer right away, Johnny adjusts his hold on you. His face draws close, gaze lazily scanning your body. Slowly, he moves in, brushing his lips against your shoulder, and then the curve at your neck.

“Or we could stay here for a bit longer.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Breakfast after?” Johnny’s hand changes position, slipping up to grasp the curve of your ass. His body twists, and you feel his hard cock against the inside of your thigh.

Your pussy immediately clenches, remembering all the things he did to you. You attempt to push the feeling aside but it only grows, flowing outward, zapping your self-control.

“Johnny,” you whimper as his hand ventures further downward, sliding between your legs.

His fingers part your pussy, and the sound of the mess between your legs reaches your ears. The two of you didn’t use condoms last night, but you’re both clean and you went for it. It seems overly loudly in the room, and Johnny’s breathing quickens slightly as he explores.

“Don’t mind me adding to this?” His lips come down on your neck before his teeth lightly sink in.

Your lips part and you cry out as Johnny slips a finger inside your pussy. He takes his time, slowly moving in and out of your pussy. Lazily, his thumb brushes over your clit. He repeats the gesture, and your hips buck against his hold.

“Staying?” he asks, lips brushing over collarbone to descend downward to your breasts.

His actions aren’t fair. This isn’t how things are supposed to go. He’s supposed to kick you out. To tell you to leave either politely or like an asshole. Instead, Johnny is trying everything to get you to stay. And you can’t say you’re all that mad about it because—fuck, this man knows how to use his fingers.

Johnny runs his tongue over your nipple and you nearly come undone right then. Your hips flex forward, pushing your clit against his palm. He inserts a second finger, and Johnny groans against your breasts as your orgasm builds toward its peak.

“Stay,” he says, and you squeeze around those two digits, gasping for air as your fingers dig into his pectorals.

Johnny withdraws and rolls you onto your back. You spread your legs gladly, your orgasm still buzzing under your skin. He boxes you in, the head of his cock pushing in. All that soreness returns but it is fleeting. Once he’s seated entirely inside you, you hardly care.

“I’ll stay,” you gasp as he rocks his hips.

“For breakfast, too?”

“Whatever you want.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

When you awaken, it’s a jolt. A sharp shake.

You blink, not recognizing your surroundings for a moment. Hazy memories bubble up to the surface. There was a man with blonde hair and scars. There was whiskey. Lots of it. A bottle shared between you and him.

His hand kept straying to your thigh, squeezing with intention. You leaned in, asked if he was interested in going elsewhere.

This is elsewhere. And it’s not a hotel.

Simon.

You remember him now. His gruff voice, his large hands on your body, and the way he stripped you down in seconds before his mouth sought supple skin. Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you absently press your palm there, the warmth radiating into your fingers.

Glancing over, you find the bed empty. Reaching out, you test the sheets, finding them cold. Simon has been gone a while, but this is no hotel room. It’s too personal, which means he’s somewhere. This must be his home.

If you’re careful, maybe you can slip out. You sit up, and listen. Quiet. No running water or feet padding softly against the floor. The bathroom door is ajar and the light is off. Simon might be out in the kitchen or living room—or he might be gone.

That’s happened before. You’ve awoken only for the man to be gone, leaving you alone in his home to put yourself together and make an exit at your convenience.

It’s…fine.

Simon was a good fuck. You can’t complain on that front. He knew exactly how to work your body. He found all your spots—all the things that make you melt—and stuck with it.

Sighing heavily, you crawl out of the comfortable bed. Your limbs scream in protest, soreness making itself known in places you’ve never been sore before. It’s a game finding your discarded clothes on the floor. With only a sliver of sunlight from the window, you’re forced to grab and hold the item up in the air to determine if the clothing item is yours or Simon’s.

“Finally,” you mutter, identifying your shirt. It’s halfway over your head when you hear the front door. “Fuck,” you hiss, only tangling yourself further.

You take a step back only to smack your leg against the bed. It sends you backwards, sprawling onto your back. You manage to sit up and wrestle your shirt on when Simon enters the room.

He stands in the doorway holding a plastic bag, and wearing a black tracksuit. Simon’s hair is a bit of a mess like he quickly ran his fingers through it before leaving.

“Hi,” you say weakly, because you can’t stand awkward silence.

“Leaving?” asks Simon, but he doesn’t sound upset.

You shrug, and swallow down the lump in your throat. “What’s in the bag?” you reply, switching tactics.

Simon is quiet a moment before he reaches in and tosses something to you. You manage to catch it without fumbling it.

Glancing down, you look at the box. At the—oh.

“We ran out last night,” he states simply.

It suddenly grows hot in the room.

“We did,” you agree, clutching the box of condoms like it’s a lifejacket.

He bought more. Which means—

“You’re welcome to leave,” he says, crumbling up the bag and setting it on top of the dresser. Simon reaches into his pocket and deposits his keys along with his phone. Unzipping his jacket, Simon reveals bare chest.

When the jacket is gone, Simon is left in only black joggers. He’s on full display. Broad shoulders, muscled arms and chest, large hands that perfectly wrapped around your throat as he bent you over and fucked you from behind.

“Is that what you want?” you ask, but you already know the answer. If Simon really wanted you gone, he wouldn’t have left to purchase another box of condoms.

“It’s what you want,” he replies. Simon is so calm—so casual. He’s not moving away from the door. He stands there, shirtless, gaze intense.

You sigh loudly and glance down at the box of condoms. “You did go out of your way to buy these.”

By the time you glance up, Simon is right there, grasping your throat, easing your head upwards so that you can look at him. With his other hand, he takes the condoms and tosses them onto the bed.

“You’re staying.” It’s not really a question, more of a confirmation.

You nod once and Simon’s thumb brushes over your bottom lip. That soft touch is enough to part your lips, and Simon makes a noise deep in his throat that sounds like a groan.

“Take me in your mouth,” he rasps. “Like you did last night.”

Your hands find the top of his joggers. Sliding beneath the band, you wiggle them down until the base of his cock appears. You pull a bit more, and then it’s free, already hard with a tiny bead of cum blooming in the slit. Your tongue darts out, swiping it up.

Simon shivers, and his hold on your neck adjusts to grasp the back of your head. He doesn’t haul you against him, or force himself down your throat. He is waiting for you, and that action in and of itself is enough to get you to stay a bit longer.

The head of his cock slides over your tongue and you throat him deep. Simon’s eyelids flutter and his groan is sweet. You bottle it up for later with the intention of recreating that sound—to make him moan like that again.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Sunday mornings are lazy mornings.

Some of the alcohol from last night still lingers in your pores, leaving a tightness behind your eyes and at your temples. But it’s not all that relevant.

Right now, you’re floating. There’s a man between your thighs. Well, his head anyway. And his tongue is doing all sorts of things to you.

Kyle’s tongue lazily flicks back and forth over your clit while he pumps two fingers in and out of your pussy. He is in no rush. No hurry. He’s taking his time, and you’re in blissful motion, hips rocking against his tongue, meeting his fingers with each thrust.

He groans softly against your pussy just before he sucks your clit into his mouth. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, and your back arches off the bed. Kyle’s name is on your lips. A repetition you cannot cease.

Even with your orgasm blossoming, you feel his smile against your skin. Kyle is smug that he’s done this to you.

What a way to start the day.

Kyle’s fingers slip from your body, and then he’s pushing up, reaching for the box of condoms on the bedside table. He snatches one up, tearing it open quickly.

“How do you want me?” you murmur, not trusting your voice. It’s still hoarse from sleep and the smokes you accepted last night.

Kyle rolls on the condom. His skin is glossy with sweat. The two of you have hardly slept. You thought this would be a quick fuck but it’s something else. Kyle takes his time, and that has drawn this one-night stand out into an all-night fucking marathon.

“You’re good as you are, love,” coos Kyle, settling between your legs again. You both groan aloud when he slides home.

It’s the next day. You should be out of this bed. You should be doing your usual walk-of-shame, and yet you’re still in Kyle’s bed, full of his cock, and completely strung out on orgasms.

“Promise I’ll let you rest after this,” he murmurs, testing with a roll of his hips.

You almost laugh. “You said that the last two times,” you moan as he hits somewhere deep.

“Did I?” he asks, absently.

Kyle is sweet, but he knows how to make you yearn. It’s agony. And it’s fucking beautiful. This isn’t how any of this is supposed to go and yet here you are, getting dicked down by a man who is clearly beyond simple hook-ups.

This man is boyfriend material, and even as your mind starts to drift back into a lustful haze, it’s scheming of ways to keep him.

Shifting slightly, Kyle adjusts your legs, setting a pace that makes each stroke divine. Perhaps it’s the fact that you’re exhausted that it feels so goddamn good. And maybe the two of you will actually rest after this.

The birds are chirping, and traffic is already moving. It’s the morning after, and yet the night seems to have been unending.

Kyle leans forward, and then your lips are connecting. Each kiss is deep. Tender. It’s unfair how nice this is. It shouldn’t be like this, and yet it is, and that makes it all the more painful when you do finally leave. This is not your home. It is his.

This is just an agreement made in a smoky pub. Nothing more.

“Kyle,” you moan, drawing his name out as your orgasm crests.

He smiles against your mouth, his pace stuttering out as the rest of him starts to tense.

“Almost there, love. Promise.” That word, promise, is strained. Kyle’s eyelids flutter, and then he too finds his end.

In the muted dark, the two of you exchange breaths. A car honks outside but it’s a muted thing. You’re hardly paying attention.

“Can we rest now?” you ask. It’s almost a laugh, but it’s also cautious. Maybe rest just means rest for him, and you’re about to be kicked to the curb.

“Yeah,” he smiles, rolling onto his back. Kyle reaches down to remove the condom before pushing himself out of bed and into the bathroom. The light flicks on. Water runs. And then Kyle returns with a damp cloth.

“Open those legs for me.”

You do so obediently, and Kyle patiently cleans you up before returning the cloth to the bathroom.

When he returns, the words tumble out of you unexpectantly. “I just need a couple hours and then I’ll go.”

Kyle frowns as he slides back into the bed. “You don’t need to rush out of here.”

You don’t need to rush out of here.

“I don’t want to bother—” Kyle shakes his head and you cease speaking.

“Come here,” he murmurs, offering himself. You slide up next to him, and Kyle wraps his arms around your body, dragging you into his chest.

Your lips begin to form words but Kyle makes a grunt and you promptly close your mouth. Kyle has you locked in his arms, and it’s comfortable. Normal. This is all too personal, and yet Kyle doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe you could make this into something else.

Maybe this is him offering more.

Whatever it is, the concept fractures, slipping away as the warmth and comfort of him lulls you to sleep.

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reiderwriter · 6 months ago

Text

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years.

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even.

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again.

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces.

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree.

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.”

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work.

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man.

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him.

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition.

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in.

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later.

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case.

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest.

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.”

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included.

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms.

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“What are you doing here?”

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.”

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups.

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands.

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following.

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-”

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.”

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed.

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?”

“Uncomfortable.”

“Or at your breakfast bar?”

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.”

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well.

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep.

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave.

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you.

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard.

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you.

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer.

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most.

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon.

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist.

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together.

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer.

“Spencer, its 2pm.”

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you.

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.”

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre.

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.”

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled.

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet.

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own.

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong.

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair.

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that.

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you.

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.”

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.”

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.”

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him.

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen.

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb.

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself.

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-”

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.”

“Laundry?”

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.”

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space.

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?”

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.”

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face.

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.”

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?”

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.”

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors.

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description.

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives.

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second.

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you.

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?”

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support.

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side.

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears.

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?”

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest.

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him.

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile.

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment.

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did.

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly.

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-”

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch.

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.”

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes.

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-”

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.”

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet.

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back.

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out.

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.”

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you.

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.”

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways.

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?”

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-”

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-”

Your voice cracked again.

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for.

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness.

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years.

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-”

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….”

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time.

“And you deserve a break.”

“W-When we take breaks, people die.”

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?”

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess.

“You all had reasons, I-”

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.”

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back.

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream.

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating.

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there.

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin.

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you.

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence.

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly.

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him.

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful.

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever.

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.”

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him.

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you.

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another.

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words.

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head.

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing.

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you.

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours.

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again.

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead.

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you.

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

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onepiece-fics · 8 months ago

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Strawhats' reaction to their S/O napping randomly in weird places

Summary: Strawhats reacting to their partner falling asleep in weird places in positions randomly.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader. General fluff. Mentions of gaslighting but in a joking way (incredibly unserious).

Word count: 1126

Luffy

Honestly, he’s too stupid to consider that it could be a health issue so he just kinda thinks it’s cute

It’s not until someone like Chopper or Nami asks him if you’re okay that he’s like “Wait a damn minute…. Is my partner okay???”

He’ll confront you about it, super concerned, asking if you’re dying and you’ll be like “ ??? what now???”

He’ll sit with you as Chopper examines you with very stern eyebrows. When Chopper tells him that you’re fine he has the BIGGEST smile on his face.

Would probably either join your naps (and also sleep in weird places/positions) or poke you until you wake up lol.

Zoro

Dude will join your naps, no questions asked.

He’ll ask you if you’re okay, but once you tell him that you’re fine he shrugs his shoulders and just lies down near you.

If you look particularly uncomfortable if you’ve somehow squeezed yourself in between two boxes or something he might pick you up and plop you down in a hammock instead.

Most of the time though he just sits or lays down next to you, with an arm around your shoulder or waist.

He knows you think it's adorable to wake up with him half-snuggled into you <3

Nami

Before you start dating she might judge you a little. She might give you a weird look when she finds you hanging from your legs in her tangerine trees lmao.

When you start dating though she’ll find it cute as hell. Whenever she’s just walking around on the ship and finds you in the most random places it’ll make her giggle.

When she finds you she’ll squat down beside you, move your hair from your face, and give you a kiss on your forehead as you wake up.

“Wake up sleepyhead, surely this can’t be comfortable?” she’ll say teasingly as she pulls you up on your feet (and drags you away to go cuddle somewhere)

Usopp

He thinks it’s soooo cute but…. He might jokingly gaslight you about it.

“Oh Y/N? Remember that time I found you sleeping in the Cola barrel and you heat all of Franky's cola up with your body temperature? No? Dang, and Franky got so sad about the Cola too…”

He’ll only gaslight you for a little bit though before kissing you and telling you it’s a joke. He’s not doing it maliciously, he just thinks it’s funny to tease you and make up stories (and tell them to Chopper who totally believes it every time)

Honestly, I feel like Usopp would be the type to tuck blankets and pillows away in the most random places that you tend to fall asleep in, in hopes that you would use them.

He would also tell you to call for him if you start feeling sleepy so he can wake you up!

In reality though, if you do call for him he’ll just get super soft and cuddly with you and you’d both end up napping together.

Sanji

He’d be SO worried about you it’s not even funny

Would be sprinting to Chopper with you in his arms the first time you fall asleep in a weird place asking him to cure you immediately

After an intense check-up from Chopper (with Sanji crying, holding your hand) he’ll be so relieved that you’re fine.

He might scold you if he finds you in positions that look particularly uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t ever wake you up. He’d just pick you up and place you on a sofa somewhere and wait until you woke up to scold you.

Like Usopp, he would also ask you to tell him if you were feeling sleepy, but with cuddling 110% in mind.

If you ever come over to him and tell him that you’re sleepy you best believe this man is dropping WHATEVER he’s doing to pick you up and run somewhere you two could cuddle.

Chopper

As a doctor, he’ll ask you some questions about it and be able to give you some advice on what to do.

Might prescribe you melatonin pills to take when you go to bed at night in hopes that you don’t nap at weird times/places.

Would definitely keep an eye on you and might get upset if you nap when he tells you not to (how could you do that to the poor doctor T_T)

Robin

I don’t think Robin would be all too worried honestly, I think she’d just find it cute

Similarly to Zoro, I think she might sit/lay next to you if she finds you and just read for a bit, stroking your hair if you’re lying in her lap.

She trusts that both you and Chopper know what’s healthy or not regarding your naps.

She might propose a daily naptime for you lol. Like, just a 40 min nap time where you’re leaning against her in the hammock or something like that.

Franky

It takes him a while to notice at first, and when someone tells him they found you under a carpet in the dining room he doesn’t believe them at all. When he goes to look for you and finds you under the dining room carpet though…. He loses his mind.

Honestly, I feel like Franky would just be baffled more than anything.

“But why would you nap there?? Aren’t there better places to nap? What if someone steps on you?” Mans is just incredibly confused.

Might make you a smartwatch that gives him a notification whenever you fall asleep so he can go get you and put you to bed lol

After it happens like 10 times he just starts joking about it even though he still doesn’t really understand.

Brook

Another one that doesn’t really reflect on how weird it is lol

If he sees you lying somewhere random on deck he might just laugh at you

Will tease you about it when you wake up, might even make a stupid rhyme about it and get Luffy and Chopper in on the teasing as well

But it’s all lighthearted at the end of the day!

Jinbei

I feel like Jinbei would be very confused like Franky, but would ultimately find it kind of cute.

Might pick you up and carry you to your or his bed and tuck you in with a little kiss on the forehead

More than anything I feel like if another strawhat found you sleeping somewhere weird they would come up to him like “Jinbeiiii, they fell asleep on the stairs againnn” like it’s his duty to go pick you up lol.

He might tease you a little bit about it because he finds it silly, but more than anything he finds it cute.

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greensagephase · 2 months ago

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Expectant Father!Miguel

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader Summary: Sweet Miguel who's a daddy to be and trying his best to support you and prepare for the baby's arrival! Word Count: 2.7k Warnings: none, just fluff Masterlist

Imagining a Miguel who after BTSV grieves and heals from his loss and trauma. He opens up and falls in love with someone, you, a Spider-Woman from another universe. The two of you eventually get married and after a few years of a beautiful marriage life, the talk about children comes up once more. You both talked about it early on in your relationship, of course, especially with Miguel losing Gabriella. You wanted to make sure that Miguel was open to the idea of starting a family in the future.

Even after marriage, the topic came up a few times here and there. Each time, Miguel always reassured you that he was open and ready for whenever you both decided to begin trying. And so, the talk eventually started again after a few years of enjoying your marriage. You both discussed it and reassured each other that you were both more than ready to start, so at last, Miguel and you begin trying!

Surprisingly, or may not so much, you soon begin to show symptoms and before you know it, there’s Miguel and you in your shared bathroom with pregnancy tests. Miguel holds your hand as you both wait for the result, both feeling nervous because this could be it. Trying to ease your nerves and his racing heart, Miguel peppers your forehead with kisses, whispering sweet words of reassurance.

“Te amo [I love you].”

“Don’t stress if it’s false symptoms, mi vida [my life]. We’ll keep trying.”

After what feels like forever, the tests reveal the results…

Expectant Father!Miguel, who tears up and wraps his arms tightly around you before kissing your face out of pure love and affection when the pregnancy test turns out positive.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who can’t sleep that night out of excitement! Miguel holds you close to his chest while you sleep soundly, planting tender and sweet kisses to your head to avoid waking you up as he thinks about the new and beautiful change in your lives, unable to believe that this is happening. He’s going to be a dad!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who wants to tell the whole world that you’re pregnant, but who agrees not to say anything for the first trimester, just in case. Despite wanting to scream the news to all of Nueva York, Miguel also loves being able to keep the news to yourselves. It’s your little secret!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who wants you to have the best midwife, doula, ob/gyn, or whoever you wish to treat you during your pregnancy. Miguel wants to make sure you and the baby will be well taken care off during and after the pregnancy in all aspects, especially medically, so he does research like his life depends on it with you to choose the right professional. This is especially important to him because he’s aware of how often women are disregarded when it comes to their own health, so Miguel wants to make sure that whoever you both work with, takes your concerns seriously.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who goes with you to every single appointment. No matter what. Miguel will schedule things around the appointments in order to go with you because he’s not missing one. His eyes soften up every single time he looks at the screen, seeing your baby moving around. He holds your hand, smiling and filled with happiness as the professional explains the progress. He may not say it at every appointment but he always thinks about how you both, “made that” happen.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds the ultrasound pictures after the appointment in his hands, looking longingly at them. At home, he asks if it's okay to frame them so they can be added to the wall of photos in your living room. He personally hangs it up!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who already keeps a stock of your favorite snacks in his lab, but now that you’re pregnant, expands it. As your pregnancy progresses and you start getting weird cravings, Miguel stocks up on a mixture of food items to be ready.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who will go anywhere and everywhere to get you food when you get cravings, no matter how weird they are. Miguel will travel the multiverse, even at 4am, to satisfy the cravings you and baby have!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who gains weight during the pregnancy, too! He doesn’t mind at all, but instead smiles every time he remembers, feels, or sees the new extra weight because “estamos esperando, mi amor [we’re expecting, my love].” He’s proud of it and he doesn’t let any little joke or comment about it get to him!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who massages your swollen feet to ease your discomfort! He tenderly massages them and rubs lotion to keep them soft. Talking about this, Miguel will do your toenails if you don’t get them done professionally. He surprisingly does a great job and he finds that this is another great way to continue pampering you in the future. Miguel also helps you put your shoes on, tying them when it's necessary when you find it too difficult as your pregnancy progresses.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who always tells you how beautiful you are, but especially now that you’re pregnant. Miguel thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous with your pregnancy glow, that's how he sees you, but he also knows that you could easily get ideas about your body not looking good or feeling self-conscious, so he makes sure to tell you often how stunning you are. Miguel wants you to know he loves you no matter what your body looks like!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who buys you the prettiest maternity clothes! He doesn’t care to spend money on clothes or anything else because he wants to you to feel beautiful and comfortable all throughout your pregnancy. Every time you go shopping, he always wants to buy you something, even when you tell him that you have enough clothes but again, Miguel wants you to feel beautiful and comfortable. Plus, Miguel is sure the maternity clothes will come in handy again in a few years!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds you tenderly and whispers in your ear how beautiful and strong you are when you have those moments of self-consciousness. He gently reminds you it’s okay to feel that, he knows your body is experiencing changes, but he also reminds you that in his eyes, you’re absolutely beautiful. “Eres una diosa, mi amor [you’re a goddess, my love]”, he whispers.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who starts reading books about parenting and babies! Miguel is an avid reader (you cannot change my mind about this; the man loves to read, but with so many duties as the leader of the Spider Society, our current Miguel doesn’t make much time for it, but he’s def a bookworm), so it’s no surprise that a neat pile of books always sits on his nightstand, but the difference is that his books suddenly turn from science and fiction genres to books about parenting, children, and childbirth to educate and prepare himself as a father. As the pregnancy progresses, Miguel stays up late reading while you’re curled up at his side, sleeping soundly. He rubs your back tenderly with his free hand, partly to comfort you in your sleep but also because physical touch is one of his love languages. Miguel takes little breaks here and there just to admire your sleeping figure, wondering what he did to deserve you and the life he has with you.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who loves cooking to spoil you! He already enjoyed cooking for you before but now he finds double the happiness because he knows you’re eating for two! Also, Miguel will cook anything and everything for you; from your favorite dishes to new ones you’re suddenly craving, even if he’s never cooked it before.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who has to keep his emotions in check during the first trimester because you both agreed to keep your pregnancy a secret to avoid raising suspicions. You both agreed to keep it a secret until the first trimester just in case there are complications, which thankfully do not come up. Despite both of you agreeing to behave normally, people at HQ begin to wonder why Miguel is suddenly extra smiley. Some spider members ask him about it, which makes him realize he’s not doing too great of a job acting normal (but like, you can’t blame him! Miguel is just so, so, so happy that you’re going to be parents!). During the first trimester, some spider members dare ask why he’s so much more cheerful, so he always hits them up with, “Can’t I just smile?” He then puts on a grumpy face for show and to quiet down the suspicions, even though he’s so happy he’d buy a holographic billboard to announce your pregnancy to the entire population of Nueva York if he could, which financially he can, but he’s certain you wouldn’t appreciate that too much.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who no longer bothers to hide his happiness and excitement once the first trimester has passed and you announce it to your friends and coworkers at HQ because the pregnancy is going well. He doesn’t care to hide his excitement when someone asks him how you’re doing or if he’s ready for possible sleepless nights.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who truly, and I mean truly, doesn’t care about the baby’s gender! You guys talk about it as the weeks go by, wondering and guessing for fun, but Miguel truly doesn’t care. Whether it’s a girl or a boy, Miguel is going to love, cherish, and protect that child until his last breath!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who is over the moon when your baby bump starts showing! His gaze softens every time his eyes land on it, his heart elated with happiness. Miguel loves to cup it in his large hands, filled with awe that a little being half him and half yours is growing in your tummy. He obviously knows how the process works but either way, Miguel is always filled with such awe as he caresses and cups your bump.

Expectant Father!Miguel, whose eyes widen and mouth parts the first time he feels the baby kick. He looks at you, his expression one of love and tenderness while he feels the soft kicks under his hands. He kisses you sweetly before he kisses your bump and whispers softly, “Mi familia [my family].” He laughs softly as baby keeps kicking and jokes about having “un futbolista [a fútbol player]” in the family, which only seems to fuel the kicks. This is how you both discover that the baby loves listening to him talk.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who talks to your tummy every day once you both discover that the baby loves listening to his voice. Miguel talks about how excited he is for the baby to arrive, about how loved they will be by both their parents. He often reminds the baby that, “I’ll always protect and love you.”

Expectant Father!Miguel, who is involved in a very part of putting together the nursery because he’s so excited about it. You catch him smiling to himself very often while you both work on the nursery little by little over the months. He builds the crib, making sure that it’s assembled properly for the baby’s well being, and every other piece of furniture that needs to be put together. Talking about furniture, Miguel makes sure there’s a bookcase included, one you both slowly fill with children’s books. He helps hang up the picture frames you both decided on with cute photos appropriate for a baby nursery. He buys the most comfortable chair/couch for the room so that you’re both always comfortable while tending to the baby. You try to keep a budget for the room, but Miguel tells you to not worry about that! Miguel has more than enough money to provide for you and the baby, and he doesn’t care to spend it on the two of you, so he has no budget when it comes to setting up the baby’s room because he wants to make sure you and the baby have everything that’s needed!!

Expectant Father!Miguel, who goes with you to every class you attend to prepare for the baby’s arrival. It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the day. Just like how he schedules things around doctor appointments, Miguel also fits these classes in not only to make sure he’s there as a supporting spouse but also to learn and be prepared to assist and support you when the baby arrives.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who smiles warmly when members from the Spider Society throw you a surprise baby shower. He looks at the cute and small clothes with affection, filled with some amusement as well when he sees some of them are spider theme.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who reads to the baby and you because he learned from somewhere that this is beneficial for children. He does this late in the evenings when you’re both cuddling on the couch, his hand tenderly caressing your stomach. Due to his gentle voice, he usually lulls you to sleep right there on the couch. If you don’t wake up soon, Miguel carries you to bed.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who also plays music for the baby and you. Again, he read something about this having benefits, so he’ll play different genres but usually it’s calm tunes you both choose to play.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who sits with you to decide on a name once you find out the gender of the baby. You ask him about his opinion on the choices you’ve both selected, but he can’t settle on one. He never realized how hard it’s to choose a name, something your child will have forever. You think it’s cute how his eyebrows furrow in deep thought as he contemplates on his personal choice.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who sits on the floor while you sit on the chair you decided on for the nursery while the two of you pack the hospital bag when you’re in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. He checks the bag about a thousand times to make sure you and baby will have everything that’s needed while at the hospital, trying to make sure neither of you have forgotten something.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who makes sure your place is clean right before the baby arrives so that when you come home, the place will be spotless. He also makes sure that all the devices for the baby, such as the baby monitor, are ready to go.

Expectant Father!Miguel, who holds your hand as you’re about to have the baby and refuses to leave your side no matter what! He quietly and sweetly tells you how much he loves you, how strong and beautiful you are. He knows his words of encouragement might do little to ease your pain and discomfort, but the words spill from his mouth regardless because he truly believes what he’s saying. He brings your hand to his lips before he kisses the back of it with misty eyes, filled with so many emotions.

Papa!Miguel, who wipes his tears when the nurse hands you the baby for the first time. He gazes at you with so much love and affection while you hold your baby for the first time, noticing how gentle and natural you are at motherhood. He saves the image in his mind, knowing he'll remember that moment for the rest of his life.

Papa!Miguel, whose eyes spill more tears when you hand the baby to him so he can experience holding his child for the first time, too. His soft gaze captures every detail of his child’s face, searing it into his memory forever. He notes how light and small they feel in his arms, the warmth from their little body, and the beautiful scent coming from his child. He turns to look at you, smiling, and in that moment, he wonders if he’s dreaming all of this. If so, Miguel silently wishes that he never wakes up from this beautiful dream.

Finally got to post this one; it's been in my Notion vault since April 💀but anyway, thank you for reading!

Alondra❤️

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #soft!miguel o'hara

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