#he is constantly Casing The Joint

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP: Travel Buddy

"I already told you I'm not going to another country! I'm going to New Mexico!" The shout echoes with frustration across the airport. Dick looks up from his phone to where a man is arguing with a woman behind a counter. She has a pinched grimace on her face, an expression only those who have worked in customer service are familiar with.

It's the look of someone who dances on the line of "I don't need to up with this bullshit. I don't need this job" and "Think of your bills, think of your check, stay calm."

There is a long line behind him, where everyone is making faces at the delay.

Dick often preferred to travel with Justice League tech, as nothing beat the speed of instant teleportation, but he needed to have some records of traveling the normal for his civilian identity. It would be suspicious if he was seen worldwide with no signs of how he got there.

It was a necessary evil to have his loveable wanderlust persona that was Dick Grayson-Wayne. He had taken a few aspects of Brucie Wayne but replaced the playboy reputation with a restlessness that couldn't stand being in one place for too long.

Growing up with people constantly pointing out how attractive he was, which would have been fine were it not for the rich old men and women who leered at him through his teen years. He could not stomach being a playboy, allowing those who objectified him to think he enjoyed their attention.

It was easier to be the easily distracted, pretty son who was always away from home instead. It helped that Bruce had plenty of private jets to gift his son for whatever whimsy urge to move hit him. That was why he was in Illinois today.

Dick's jet had needed to stop for some fuel, and like most commercial airlines, they were told that they needed to wait before heading up again. They may have enough money to afford their own planes, but commercial planes have the right of way.

Then a storm was reported at Gotham Airlines, and his pilot told Dick they were grounded until it cleared up. It could be a delay of six hours.

Dick didn't mind, having told his staff to take a break. If it got too bad, he would buy everyone a hotel room to try again tomorrow. His private jet staff seemed stunned by the offer, insisting they could wait to see if it was clear enough to fly in a few hours.

He had decided he wanted to have some crappy airport snacks, as it was part of the experience, and walked around the airport munching on his chocolate donut. He found a little booth selling local coffee, prompting him to find a seat near the welcome counter and scroll through his phone.

He still had three hours to kill, so he considered exploring the area a little. I suggest finding some hotels just in case. There was little in this place. The closest city was Amity Park, but it was only beside the mall and a decent burger joint; there was little to do.

It was one of those small towns that, despite not having many people, was well spread out due to all the open spaces. The people who lived there either raised a family, retired or had bloodlines traced generations back to the town's founding.

"Sir, as I stated before, you need a passport, and you have to pay for an international ticket to go to Mexico," The woman hissed. Some people in line began muttering about how annoying the man was for arguing.

"All I have is my driver's license. I could go home for my passport. That's no issue, but I am not paying for an international ticket to Mexico when I am not going there! I'm staying in the US! New Mexico is a state!" the man shouts, flailing his long black trenchcoat. It makes the black ponytail swing side to side as he leans on the counter. "How do you work in travel and not know that!?"

"What is going on here?" A man demands, stepping beside the gumming woman. Dick can tell he is the manager just by the way his uniform looks different.

"This man is refusing to listen." The counter lady practically spits and is now leaning well over the "I don't need this job" side of the customer service line. Dick finds himself standing up as the manager gets a quick rundown of the problem.

The crowd was getting impatient, even with the two other representatives slowly calling up the next customer. Curious by the outcome, Dick drifts closer, listening to the man explain that he wants to go to New Mexico to study the enormous reports of violent paranormal sightings.

He was apparently visiting all highly haunted states in the US to write a book about the history of the hauntings, but when he was attempting to get his ticket, the woman had been convinced he was leaving the country. Dick watched in real-time as the manager also seemed to think New Mexico was in Mexico because he began to explain the international policy to the fuming man.

They threatened to put him on the no-fly list if he continued causing them trouble. That angered the traveler even more, and he raised his voice and waved his arms as he insisted the location be within the country.

Dick pulls out his phone, typing with one thumb quickly and pulling up a map of the country. He slid right next to the trio, standing at the stranger's left with an easy smile.

"Excuse me, can I have a moment of your time?" He asks

The woman's frustration is now nearing its tipping point, but the manager must have recognized him, for he hastily scrambles to make his expression more pleasant.

"Mr. Grayson-Wayne! Please give me one moment to sort this out. I can help you if that's okay with you. I'm sorry for the delay. Karen, call security to have this man escorted out."

"What!?" Demands the guy as the woman grins.

"With pleasure."

"New Mexico is a US state, " Dick cuts in, displaying his screen. "It's been one since 1912, I'm afraid."

The airline employees are pale as they stare at his phone before the manager pulls it out of his pocket and types rapidly on it. A few seconds later, his already white face goes even whiter.

Dick considers the man next to him, who has a grin starting to bloom on his face. It's a pretty handsome face if he's honest. A dig has him looking away towards his phone.

It's a message from his pilot. It seems the storm was due to Mr. Freeze, and they weren't expecting it to clear for at least four days. He was asking if there was anywhere else Dick wanted to fly to.

"I'm so sorry. I'll bump you up to first class." The manager says to the stranger, who is looking rather smug now. Dick considers his pilot's question before thinking, why not.

He does have an image to uphold, after all.

"Would you like a ride in my private jet? " Dick turns to the man, who blinks at him while cutting off the rambling of the woman and the manger. "I can drop you off wherever you want in New Mexico. Where were you headed?"

"Ugh, I wanted to visit Dawnson Cemetry, " the man stammers. "I-do you really have a private jet?"

"Yeah. Would you like to go with me?"

There is a moment of hesitation before the man grabs his wallet off the counter and nods. "If it's not too much trouble," he responds cautiously.

"It's not. I'm Dick Grayson-Wayne, by the way."

"Danny Fenton."

Dick waves the two employees away, winking at them as they slump in relief that Danny doesn't seem to want to make this into an incident. Likely, he had just been upset they weren't listening.

"Most haunted places in the US, huh?" Dick asks while sending a text to his crew. He gets confirmation that they can head over to the southwest post haste. "Aren't you scared of ghosts?"

Danny gives an odd little smirk. "I haven't been afraid of ghosts since I was fourteen."

Dick stares at his mouth a little too long, swinging his gaze back to his phone when he gets a message from Bruce. His dad had been informed of the flight change and was using the coded message to confirm Dick being the one to change it.

He types out a response, ignoring the fluttering of his heart. If he checks to see what other states are highly haunted as Danny looks around his jet with a fallen jaw, that's only because he has four days to kill.

[svetamillss]

Headcanons: Your life together with them🩵

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

Summary: various joint situations when you live with them.

A/N: I apologize for writing a little less often!

🩵🩵🩵

Cho Hyun Ju

Since the girl served in the army and got used to discipline, she will follow it while living with you. She always wakes up much earlier than you, about three hours, where you can sleep until 9-10 a.m., in some cases even before lunch if you get very tired. While you are sleeping, Hyun Ju will do a lot of things around the house (quietly so as not to wake you up), cook you a delicious breakfast and go to wake you up.

She will do it gently and carefully, stroking and kissing you wherever she wants. You sometimes grumble and tell her to lie down and sleep with you in a hug, but it doesn't affect her, so she continues to wake you up with kisses.

- Baby, it's time to get up, your favorite breakfast is already getting cold. And we have a lot to do. - she says gently, kissing your sweet lips.

After a couple of minutes, you still wake up and sleepily go to eat what your Hyunnie has prepared for you with love.

Kang Dae Ho

The guy has a lot of fun living with you. After all, you have new ideas almost every day. Again, recently you wanted to lose weight by the summer, you decided to run every morning. But it wasn't very good alone, so you forced your boyfriend to join you.

- So you want us to wake up at 7 a.m. on our weekend and run down the street when normal people will sleep? - he didn't understand at all why you need it, because you were beautiful.

- And you will run with me for the company! - Dae Ho only had to agree, he didn't want to offend you.

And he knew that soon you would get tired of it and you would throw away this idea, so he decided to be patient.

Thanos (Su Bong)

You and the guy were complete opposites to each other. It was especially seen with household items. Su Bong was dirty. He constantly left his clothes all over the apartment: socks in the corners, clothes were lying on the backs of chairs. You were very unhappy with it, okay, unwashed dishes, but these are extremes.

- Can you stop scattering your clothes? Can't you put the clean ones in the closet, and throw the dirty ones in the laundry. I'm tired of cleaning up after you like a little child. - you mumbled when you removed his clothes from the chair again, while he was sitting on the phone.

- Yes, yes, good. - he said without much attention.

- If this happens again, all your things will fly to the trash!

- I got it, just don't be angry, my baby. - he put down the phone and started cleaning everything, then you rewarded him with a kiss.

But he won't be able to get used to it, so he'll still leave his things, but he's ready to clean up for your extra kisses.

Park Gyeong Seok

The three of you lived in a small apartment: you, your future husband and his daughter Na Yeon. Since the girl was undergoing treatment, she often stayed at home. But you and the man didn't want her to be alone, so you decided to take a housework and sit with Na Yeon.

You and the girl played a lot of her favorite games. She is very attached to you and even calls you mom.

When a man comes home from work, the girl asks him to join you and he, though tired, agrees, because he can't refuse his beloved girls.

Sometimes you and the girl like to mock him, so you can make up him with different makeup.

- Dad now a real princess! - said Na Yeon when she painted Gyeong Seok with children's cosmetics, you just laughed at this whole situation and at the face of a man who was both grumpy and smiling.

Nam Gyu

The guy loves cats very much, but since you both work a lot, you can't get a pet yet, but Gyu really wants to, so he started feeding street cats.

He thinks there's nothing wrong with that, but he was wrong. The cats are used to the fact that the guy began to feed them and they began to come to your house en masse, meowing and asking for food.

When you saw this, you were furious, you immediately called the guy and he had a shy face, he knew what was going on.

- Gyu, do you want to explain to me what's going on with cats here?

- Well... I fed them a little, it looks like they got used to it.. - you looked at him with an evil face, although you understood that he not on purpose.

- Now you will clean up after them, so that there is not a single shit from them! - you said and entered the house, he only agreed with you.

After this situation, the guy began to feed these pets less often, and you began to think that maybe you would give Nam Gyu a kitten.

🩵🩵🩵

[slvtforoldermen]

StonerBF!SKZ HCs

StonerBF!SKZ Headcannons ♡︎

(I’m writing this while high, so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense lololololol)

Warnings: Drug usage obviously? A teensy bit of smut.

Bangchan:

- 1/3 of StonerRacha ♡︎

- Is incredibly clean with it, like he has a box of pre rolled blunts under his bed with a few extra papers and baggies of weed.

- Gets so flirty when he’s high, but not the cute, shy, awkward flirty that he normally is - no, when Chan is high, it’s a whole new man flirting with you.

- Your sweet Channie is gone, Chrizz is here.

- He sits there, staring at you with a certain look in his eye, not a horny look, just pure, filled with love but it’s a darker love, almost deeper than what he shows to you normally.

- When he’s high, he’s too lazy to be on top of you, so cowgirl is the go to position for stoner!chan.

- He’ll just let you use him, almost numb to the feeling of your cunt due to the weed, but the way you look, sweat glistening as you bounce up and down, desperately trying to get off on him, that makes all of that feeling come back.

- The effect of the weed makes his orgasm feel 10x better.

- Loves when you smoke too, because the way you look like when your high, there’s nothing cuter to him.

- Gets high about 3 times a week if he’s not busy

Lee Know:

- Also very clean with his stash, practically the same as Chan, though his stash sits in his closet, he can’t let the cats get into it (like that time when Dori got into his stash and got taken to the vet with blown out pupils and purring relentlessly.)

- Doesn’t let you light your own blunt, he lets you place your own between your lips as he lights it for you.

- However, he would prefer to share it…

- HUGE FAN OF SHOTGUNNING!

- His personality doesn’t really change much, he just gets a lot more giggly.

- Like tell him a stupid dad joke and he’ll start cackling.

- LOVES high sex!!! Probably the most out of all the members.

- He’ll be really slow and gentle when he’s high and fucking you, almost as if he’s making love to you, but he insists it’s only because he’s tired and HEY, he always makes love to you what are you talking about?!

- Very safe if you decide to smoke with him, won’t smoke more than a single joint just in case he needs to go anywhere for you

- Gets high 2 to 5 times a month depending on stress

Changbin:

- 2/3 of StonerRacha ♡︎

- His stash depends on his mindset at the time: if he’s stressed out, he’ll just pull out his pre rolled blunts and won’t bother to roll more, if he’s chilling, he’ll roll extra whilst he has one hanging out his mouth.

- Changbin gets the munchies so bad (just like me fr 🤞)

- Will eat anything in the house

- Once he got high and accidentally ate some weed brownies that Felix made, and then got more high, but did not care because those brownies were bomb asf

- So dazed

- Another one who loves when you ride him when he’s high, will have his hands on your hips or will suck your tits but probably both

- The first time you asked if you could get high with him, he almost died. He was so cute about it too, held the blunt to your lips and lit it for you.

- Needs you close constantly

- Not the biggest fan of high sex because he gets so sleepy (once he did actually fall asleep and you didn’t notice until you had finish… how did he cum and still manage to stay asleep?)

- Gets high 2 times on weekdays, but spends his entire weekend hotboxed

Hyunjin:

- Also a clean stasher, keeps it under his bed like Chan

- Doesn’t enjoy smoking so he ended up making edibles

- Is such a cutie (as if he isn’t when he’s not high)

- He’s so smily and dazed

- Sleeps so good after being high and is even happier when he wakes up

- Enjoys painting when he’s high, but sometimes he loses train of thought and they end up looking abstract 😭

- Loves worshipping you

- You know how Changbin gets really hungry when he’s high? Well Hyunjin does too, but not for food

- Would eat your pussy until the effects of the weed go away

- Was a little hesitant when you first asked to join him, however getting high together ended up becoming routine

- Gets high 2 times a week

Han Jisung:

- THE KING OF STONERRACHA!!!

- Yes 3Racha is StonerRacha, what of it?

- Han’s a messy stasher, doesn’t pre roll, doesn’t track, just has his papers and his baggies and rolls when he wants (which is almost every day.)

- Gets pissed off at himself when he runs out of papers or weed, but doesn’t do anything about it.

- He smokes the most and yet can’t roll for shit.

- Asks Minho to roll for him.

- Another sleepy stoner.

- You once found him asleep in an empty bathtub, and neither of you knew why.

- A real cutie </3

- Rambles on about how special you are, how pretty and cute you are and how he’s so lucky to have you.

- He just really loves you so much.

- Has a weed vape.

- Acted chill about you wanting to smoke, but freaked out on the inside.

- As horny as Jisung gets, he gets way too distracted to have high sex.

Felix:

- You don’t even know he’s a stoner until you find his stash, which ends up being a box of brownies at the back of the SKZ fridge that’s labelled ‘Felix’s Brownies. Please Don’t Touch.’ with a cute heart and chick drawn onto it.

- You reconned that you’re his partner, so he wouldn’t care if you had one.

- You were fine until you were lying on the floor for an hour.

- Lixie was so worried when he saw you laying there, but when you explained the situation, he told you that you were high and he helped you get through it.

- He’s too cute when he’s high.

- The man just loves a sweet treat, so why not get high simultaneously?

- Honestly, loves oral when he’s high.

- Please suck his dick, he’ll cum so good

- A baker in both ways

- He’ll eat you out but he gets sleepy so you’ll have to pat his cheek so he stays awake

- Gets high once a week, unless he can’t sleep, he’ll get high so he can sleep too.

Seungmin:

- Seungminnie isn’t a fan of getting high imo

- It’s you who gets him into it

- Doesn’t really keep a stash, or claims to anyway, it’s rather your stash that sits in the little pink box in his sock drawer

- Likes taking care of you as if he’s not as baked as you are rn

- Kisses you so much

- Tries to roast you but can’t because he’s just gone

- Didn’t think about high sex until you initiated it, now it’s secretly his favourite thing

- Yk when Seungmo just has that look where there’s nothing behind his eyes and he looks so lost and it’s so cute, he’s just :0, that’s him when he’s high

- Likes when you lie on top of him

- A real cutie pie

- Again, never gets high unless you want to, or unless he’s really stressed and can’t get a hold of another vice

Jeongin:

- His stash is clean, but it’s hidden really well.

- Hates smelling of weed so he keeps a frebreeze bottle in his room and also dowses himself in cologne.

- So smily and so gentle.

- Like HES SO CUTE I JUST WANNA SQUISH HIM!!!

- You’ll have to initiate high sex with him.

- So focused when he fucks you.

- Never lets you on top, it’s always missionary when he’s high.

- Sings loudly.

- Likes doing skincare when he’s high, whenever he’s planning to smoke with you he asks you to bring round all your face masks and lotions and stuff.

- Gets so needy when you aren’t around and ends up spamming you with texts.

- Only gets high a few times a month, but depending on how often you want to do it, he’ll always join you.

[sinfulspencer]

Safe place

Prompt: After working on a hard case, Spencer takes comfort in your body. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: angst, mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: friends with benefits dynamic, dom/sub dynamic, Sub!Spencer, Domme!Reader, dirty talking, praise kink, light hair pulling, titty sucking, breast play, oral sex (fem!receiving, male!receiving), fingerfucking, rough sex as a coping mechanism, breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie

Words: 4.6k

A.N.: Is it obvious that I have a thing for Sub Spencer? Also, a massive thank you to my friend @snixkers for beta reading this for me. This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's FWB challenge.

MY MASTERLIST. MY GUIDELINES. SEND A REQUEST. MY TAGLIST.

I wasn’t surprised to find Spencer on the doorstep at midnight.

He was drenched in water and the look he had on his face was obvious: he needed something to ease his mind, to focus on someone else for a few hours. His mind was a whirlwind of something that he wasn’t going to explain to me and he needed a distraction; a good one, at last.

“Everything okay?” I dared to ask

Spencer shrugged and stepped inside, closing the door behind his back. “Not really, but I don’t want to talk.”

I knew exactly why he came to me, his eyes immediately shifting on what he wanted. His gaze was focused on my chest and I nodded my head: fooling around with Spencer didn't seem such a bad idea. I had an intense day as well, and an orgasm or two would’ve definitely helped me ease the tension clearly clinging to my bones and my joints.

Spencer took off his coat and hung it behind the main door, then he followed me in the living room. I was wearing a boring pyjama but Spencer didn’t seem to mind, he needed something else that required no clothes on. Despite our agreement to have a close friendship with benefits, sometimes we didn’t really need the friendship part - like that night. We didn’t need to talk, we just needed physical comfort.

And I was happy to provide that for Spencer, especially if it involved his mouth all over my neck and my breasts to ease the tension in my own body.

“Do you want me to…”

I pulled the small ribbon on my chest and Spencer nodded his head, helping me remove my shirt without speaking. I knew what he wanted, but I needed to know that he was ready for it and most importantly, he truly wanted it.

Spencer caressed my shoulders with both hands, kneeling on the floor between my thighs as I sat down on the couch but close to the edge. My chest was pressed to his and Spencer was happy to feel my breasts against his body, his mouth already nipping and licking the bruises he had left a few days before on my throat.

The love bites all over my skin were fading, but Spencer could still see them and create new ones that he’d dream about for the rest of week.

“Do you want to do it in this position?” I asked

Spencer shrugged, his hands now moving down to my exposed chest. I couldn’t care less about wearing a bra because I was not supposed to have guests, but Spencer appreciated my bare breasts. He didn’t want to waste time struggling to open up a bra.

Sighing, I brought both my hands behind his neck. Spencer was beautiful, I had no reason to deny that, but he was also so troubled, so upset; I didn’t blame him. His job was awful and he was constantly bombarded with horrific videos, images and information about the worst crimes that humanity could commit. 

And somehow, he chose me as his safe place.

Spencer decided to come and find me each time he didn’t feel good, each time he felt too good, each time he just needed someone to be there for him - whether in a physical or emotional way.

“Bedroom.” Spencer whispered

Following him where he wanted to spend the rest of the night, I laid down on the bed and it didn’t take long for Spencer to lay on top of me. He had undressed so quickly I barely registered it. And once he was on top of me, he left kisses all over my collarbones, nipping at my throat once again while his hands caressed my waist and then the outside of my thighs.

His fingers were gentle across my skin, just like his lips - feverish kisses were peppered down my chest. Spence had his eyes open the whole time and I could see the desire flash behind them when I placed my right hand behind his head. My fingers snuck through his soft hair and I tugged on it, forcing him to look back at him. .

The lustful gaze he gave me was enough to bring a smirk over my lips.

His body reacted to my harsh tug easily: his cock hardened against my inner thigh, and I moved my leg to give him some friction. Spencer bit his bottom lip and his grip on my thighs became tighter, as he dug his fingers into my skin.

“Go on, sweet boy. Do whatever you want.”

Spencer stared at me and nodded his head. “Can I?”

I hummed, pulling on his hair again. “I said that you can do whatever you want. Go on.”

A soft whimper fell from his lips, a sound that I play in my head over and over when I pleasure myself all alone. There was nothing better than to hear Spencer whimper, moan and whine because of me, of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt, of my body. It was enchanting to see how his body reacted to anything I gave him.

Propping myself on the plush pillows of my bed, I closed my eyes while Spencer struggled to set between my legs. He hooked his right arm underneath my waist to push my body against his. Spencer nuzzled his face against my chest and I ran my fingers through his curls, not wanting to hurt him any further. 

He deserved a motherly touch that night, a gentle caress on his face as he worshipped my chest with his mouth and his tongue. Spencer’s face was pressed to my chest and I bit my bottom lip when I felt his teeth sink into the soft skin between my breasts, leaving the first mark of the night.

“You’ve been so stressed lately, sweet boy.” - I whispered, - “But now you’re safe with me in my arms, in my bed.”

Spencer dragged his tongue from the bruise forming on my skin down to my right breast and I hummed softly, moving my eyes down to his face. He knew that I enjoyed having my breasts played with and what was better than giving someone physical pleasure while, in return, receiving both physical and emotional pleasure?

Spencer was a whore for my touch, but also from my voice and the honey-coated words that fell from my lips each time we were together. He loved when I sweet-talk to him after a tough case and that was exactly what I was going to do. 

“I have missed you so much today.” - I added, - “I’ve thought about you all day, how tired you must’ve been but now you’re with me. And that makes me so happy, sweet boy.”

The sound of my voice seemed to soothe Spencer, though the lust was clear in his actions. 

“Did you miss me, Spencer? Did you think about me?” I asked

Spencer nodded his head, his lips never leaving my skin. “All the time. Think about you, your tits, your cunt, how good you taste.”

It wasn’t strange to hear him use bad words, but it was endearing. Spencer was always so sensible, so delicate in the way he spoke but with me he just couldn’t care less. He was direct, dirty, disgustingly exciting and that turned me on more than I could explain.

“Oh, so desperate for me, sweet boy.”

Spencer smiled against my skin. “You know it.”

I fixed his hair when a curl attempted to fall down on his forehead and I sighed, waiting for Spencer to give in to his own desire. He was always careful when it came to me, terrified that he’d go too far and I appreciated that. When I opened my eyes, however, I saw an eagerness that almost left me breathless. 

Spencer was burning with a flaming desire. 

“What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

His lips quivered. “Can you.. please..”

Spencer pawed at my left hand and placed it upon my own breast. He was eager to have me in his mouth, but I had to offer myself to him and not the other way around. Spencer liked the image of me offering my body to him and I wasn’t going to complain; that image was exciting for me, too. 

Pressing my left hand underneath my right breast, I offered my chest to Spencer’s and his lips quickly closed around my nipple. His tongue rolled all over it, focusing on the tip before he started to suck on it slowly, lazily, gently. His face was pressed to your chest and his other hand was clinging to your waist now, still digging his fingers into your skin. 

He was clinging to your body like it was an anchor and he was lost at sea. 

“There you go, sweet boy. You always make me feel so good.” I reminded him

Spencer glanced up at me, but didn’t answer. He didn’t want to because that meant his mouth would’ve pulled away from where it was and he couldn’t have that. Oh no. Soft whimpers came from him as I closed my eyes again, enjoying the warmth of his tongue now pressing against my nipple.

The pleasure was slowly biting me from the insides, but I stayed quiet. It was a struggle to focus on his own desire, but I made it happen. I wanted Spencer to enjoy himself before ordering him to fuck me however he pleased to forget the miserable days we both had. 

Spencer rolled his hips against my leg and I felt his cock pressing to my inner thigh, leaving a trail of wetness across my skin. 

“Are you happy now, sweet boy?”

Spencer mumbled something. “Missed your tits.” 

I chuckled, running my fingers through his curls again. “Hm, I can feel that.”

He went quiet again after that to focus on the pleasure that sucking my tits and touching me all over gave him. Spencer used his other hand to massage my other breast and I moaned softly, guiding his mouth exactly where I wanted him to be. 

“Nobody can do this better than me, sweet boy. You know that.” I whispered

Spencer nodded his head, sucking on my right nipple before he pulled away and went to give his attention to the other one. A string of spit snapped back on his chin and he looked up at me, his cheeks bright red. 

“I wouldn’t want anybody else.” he replied

With his free hand, Spencer started to play with my right nipple while his mouth closed around my left one. His tongue began its torture, while his thumb and his index rolled and pinched my right nipple. 

“I know, I’m the only one who can take good care of you.” - I responded, struggling to hold back a moan when Spencer softly bit my nipple, - “Ah, ah. Careful.”

He nodded his head and gave me an apologetic look, before sucking on my nipple. Saliva was dripping down his chin and staining my chest, but I didn’t really care. All that mattered was that Spencer was happy, satisfied and horny. 

His tongue lapped my nipple over and over, before Spencer shifted to the other one. And again, he started his torture: he sucked, nipped, bit my nipple and caressed it with his tongue ‘til it was hard in his mouth. And it felt good, but it was also pure torture. 

“Nobody knows you the way I do, my sweet boy. So strong, so powerful, so smart outside but here in my bedroom…” - I smiled down at him, - “Here you are my helpless, eager to please and always needy for me sweet boy.”

Spencer whined and looked up at me, nodding eagerly - his eyes were full of lust and I knew that he was done with my breasts. He proved my point so easily as he pushed his body against mine again, his cock achingly pressing to my inner thigh.

“Let me take care of you.” - I stated, earning a positive response from him in the form of a moan, - “Lay back down for me, sweet boy.”

Rolling on top of him, Spencer laid down on the bed with his hands now clinging to my waist but his grip quickly slipped when I settled between his thighs. I needed to give him something more, I needed to pleasure him and also give pleasure to myself and I knew exactly how to do it.

From between Spencer’s thighs, I saw him close his eyes as he waited for whatever I was willing to give him. He was always so patient with him, so excited for a single touch from him. 

His naked body was glorious to look at and I felt blessed every single time he allowed me to see it. My hands travelled down his chest and they settled on his hips, while I admired his cock twitch under my gaze. It was hard and leaking, which prompted me to lean forward and take the tip in my mouth. 

Spencer hissed at the sensation and his eyes fluttered: he stared at me with his lips slightly parted and I smiled at him.

“What, sweet boy? Do you see something that you like?”

Spencer groaned in pleasure and fell back on the bed, his eyes now closed.. My fingers wrapped around the base of his cock and slowly I started to jerk him off while my tongue lavishly lapped at the tip. I was still resting back on my heels and focused my gaze on Spencer’s face, sucking his cock like I was meant to be doing.

There was nothing better than to please Spencer because the sounds he made just sent pleasure jolts straight between my thighs. It was enchanting to see Spencer react to the pleasure that I was bringing him with my mouth, with my touch, with my body. 

I flattened my tongue underneath the tip of his cock before I slowly pushed him inside of my mouth - inch after inch, I took him with the tears pricking in my eyes. Spencer released a strangled moan when he hit the back of my throat, feeling my cheeks close around his cock. Engulfed in the warmth of my mouth, Spencer snuck his fingers through my hair and pulled it so harshly that I almost cried. 

That felt so fucking good. 

Pulling away from his cock, spit coated my chin and I brushed the back of my hands on my cheeks to wipe the tears away.

“Did that feel good, sweet boy?” - I asked, my voice filled with delirious lust for him - “Did you like it when I took your pretty cock into my mouth?”

Spencer frantically nodded his head. “Hm, yes. Yes.”

He was staring at me with his lips parted and I gave him a small smile, before returning to focus all my attention on the most precious part of his body. His cock slid on my tongue and I sucked on it lightly, moaning softly when Spencer’s hand gripped my hair again. He didn’t pull my hair, but he was anchored to me as I moved my mouth up and down his shaft to slick it with my own spit. 

Spencer was a panting mess and I fucking loved it because it was all my fault. After all, he came to me for some comfort and I was bringing him more than that. 

“Stop, stop. Please.”

His voice caught me off guard and I quickly pulled away from him. My chin was covered in spit and my lips were red, bruised.

“Everything okay?”

Spencer nodded, breathing hard. “Need your cunt. Now. Please.”

Struggling to hold back a laugh, I nodded my head and moved to Spencer’s side. It was endearing to see Spencer completely out of his mind with lust - his hands roamed all over my body as soon as I was laying down on the bed and he could get on top of me, again. His mouth found its way to my neck and soon, his teeth sunk into my skin to leave marks that were making my knees tremble. 

 “Of course you need my cunt, sweet boy, but you have to prepare me first.”

Spencer didn’t waste any and he spat right between my thighs, on my cunt. It made me giggle: that was pure desperation to have me. Usually he took his time to finger me, to eat me out but that night he was just desperate to be inside of me. Collecting his own spit and the essence of my pleasure, he sunk two fingers inside of me and slowly scissored them to stretch me. It felt good, but what I needed the most was his cock - I was just as desperate as him.  

His mouth quickly attached to my nipple again and I gripped the bed sheets, whimpering.

“Fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer curled his fingers inside of me as he sucked on my nipple, torturing it with his warm tongue. I knew I was going to have little bite marks all around my nipples, but they were so worth it. 

My breath was rugged and I felt my chest tighten, a sign of my impending orgasm that I struggled to hold back. I placed my hand on his forearm and whispered to him to stop, which he immediately did. I didn’t want to come on his fingers, I didn’t want my pleasure to end there. 

I just wanted Spencer inside of me before I lost my mind.  

When Spencer pulled his hand away from my cunt, he used his fingers to smear my own wetness all over his cock. The sight was so erotic and dirty that I could’ve come if I wasn’t so desperate for Spencer’s cock. I needed someone to paint that scene for me so that I could hang it on the bedroom door. 

“Can I spend the night here?” Spencer asked

I nodded, not really wanting to kick him out after a good fuck. “Yes, of course.”

His lips twitched into a smile as he forced me to lay back down on the bed. His hands were gentle on my shoulders and when he leaned closer to my face, I was hoping that he’d kiss me but he didn’t. 

Another stupid rule that we set when we decided to become friends with benefits. 

I was starting to hate that fucking rule because Spencer’s lips were too pretty not to be kissed, nipped and sucked on. However, a kiss was definitely too intimate for me - especially if given during missionary or something. 

Weird, given the fact that I was allowing Spencer to be inside of me as deeply as he could, but that’s how we both felt with kisses. 

“Good. Then, I’ll wake you up with my tongue.”

Giggling, I wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time sweet boy.”

Spencer positioned on top of me and with no hesitation, he slid his cock up and down my folds to gather more of my essence. I bit my tongue and stared at Spencer the whole time, admiring him - and he did the same. 

It felt like time had stopped every single time that our eyes met. 

But I couldn’t let myself go in such a way, so I forced myself to roll my hips and lift it high enough for Spencer to sink into me with no resistance. However, Spencer took his time to thrust inside - slowly, painfully slowly. Inch by inch, he filled me and I saw stars exploding right behind my eyes. 

Goosebumps rippled all over my arms and I released a strangled moan, throwing my head back when Spencer finally bottomed out. 

“I’ve missed your cunt, oh God.” Spencer whispered to me

Our lips were so close and I had to physically restrain myself from kissing him by scratching his back. My nails draw lines all over his skin and I didn’t really care if I made him bleed. I needed to calm down, to focus on the pleasure rather than the intimacy of the moment. 

I hated how each time we seemed to grow close to one another because feelings were extremely scary for both of us. I didn’t need to get caught up with them again.

Spencer melted against my body and he hid his face in the crook of my neck, slowly rutting inside of me. I closed my thighs around his waist and moaned softly, allowing Spencer to get all the pleasure that he could while also giving it to me - it felt wonderful to feel his teeth nipping at my throat and his curls tickling my skin. 

Despite his mouth pressed to my chest, I could still hear the low groans and grunts that came from Spencer. They were music to my ears. 

Spencer pressed me down onto the bed as he thrusted in and out of me, picking up his own pace. The position I was in, with my hips up in the air and Spencer kneeling between my thighs, was perfect - it had me tethering on the edge of pleasure and pain, a delicious limbo that I have learned to love with Spencer.

“God, sweet boy.. so good.” I whimpered

Spencer pulled away from my chest, leaving a trail of saliva between my breasts. He looked down at me as he kept thrusting in and out of me - a brutal, rapid pace that almost didn’t allow me to breathe right. I didn’t want to if it meant that Spencer was feeling all the pleasure that he could take from me. 

“You were made for me.”

I didn’t know if he was being serious or if it was just the haze of passion that blinded Spencer and made him dizzy, but it didn’t matter. His words were enough to bring me closer to the edge. Deep down, I was just like him - I basked in his praise, in the knowledge of my body being what gives Spencer pleasure. 

My whole body erupted with goosebumps and I dug my fingers into his back, whining his name over and over. Spencer had his right hand between my thighs, massaging my clit with the tip of his thumb, and his other hand on my knee. He was keeping me in place, watching me as I came undone underneath him. 

My orgasm hit me harder than I expected.

“Let me prove that to you, sweet boy.” I whispered in return to his words

Spencer knew exactly what I meant by that and his breath became uneven, his thrusts even harsher and violent. I didn’t want him to stop: the pleasure soon morphed into pain and I begged him for more. I started to roll my hips to match his rhythm, not caring that my whole body was shuddering with pain and pleasure at the same time. 

Every sensation was heightened, the pain was so strong that it quickly morphed again into a stinging pleasure that made it difficult for me to breathe right. 

“Come inside of me. Please.” I mumbled 

Spencer groaned at my words and soon, he was fucking me harder and harder into the mattress. His body towered on top of mine as he pushed down, almost crashing me against the soft mattress of my own bed. Spencer was hunched over me, his lips a little too close to mine as more moans and grunts fell from his mouth. 

I closed my thighs again around his waist, earning another whimper from him. He loved when I’d cage him against him, forcing him to fuck into me without pulling out - not even for a moment, not even for a second. Spencer kept whispering to me that he missed me, that he wanted to be with me every single night, that he couldn’t wait to come home and fuck me - and God, did that feel fucking amazing to hear. 

And when Spencer finally reached his release, I felt his warmth spill deep inside of me. I clung to his body with all the strength that remained in me and Spencer hid his face in the crook of my neck, again. 

His hot breath caressed my skin as he came down from his high, slowly rutting into me to feel all the pleasure that he could. His body was warm on top of mine as I released my grip from him. 

I was trembling, still hazy from my own orgasm. It was always a struggle to come down from mine and Spencer’s activity. I barely realised that he walked out of my bedroom to grab something to clean me up. 

“Are you sure I can stay here for the night?”

Spencer handed me a warm washcloth and I cleaned myself up as best as I could.

“Yes. Why wouldn’t you?”

He hesitated and I knew what was going through his mind, because it was the same thought that appeared in mine. I knew we had our agreement and the nights we spent in the same bed could be counted on a single hand, but still. 

“I don’t know. Maybe things can get… weird.” 

“They’ll get weird if we let them get weird.” I responded

Spencer nodded, running his fingers through his curls all messy. “Right.”

I decided to change the topic. “I hope you feel better now.”

“Much better. I needed this. I needed you tonight.” - Spencer said with a smile, standing next to my bed, - “I think our agreement might be the best I’ve ever made with someone.”

Chuckling, I got out of bed. “Hm, good. I’m glad you think so.”

Spencer followed me to the bathroom and we prepared for bed, though I felt his eyes burning on my skin the whole time. Exhaustion was written on both our faces and I craved my warm and bouncy mattress. I needed to lay down and rest my legs, my arms, every inch of my body.  

We returned to my bedroom and we laid together in silence. I didn’t want to break the quiet bubble between us, I was constantly worried of always saying the wrong thing - I didn’t want to scare Spencer off. I was staring at the ceiling when he grabbed my hand and brought it up to his mouth, leaving kisses all over my knuckles. 

“You’ve been strangely sweet today.”

“Is that so weird?” Spencer asked

I chuckled, turning to the side to face him. “Oh no, it’s not weird. I just wonder why.”

He pulled me closer to his body. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

“Remember that you can always come here when you need me.” - I reminded him, laying my head on his chest, - “It’s a safe space.”

Spencer pressed a kiss on top of my head. “Your cunt is my safe space.”

I went quiet for a moment, not knowing if I could laugh. Spencer was dead serious, or at least his tone was. And when I look up at him, he had that usual annoying smug smirk that made my knees tremble every fucking time.

I bursted out laughing. “You’re disgusting.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Well…”

“But you’re a good fuck so you’re excused.” I added

I leaned my head back on his chest and took a deep breath, enjoying the warmth of his body flushed to mine. Spencer ran his fingers through my hair and soon enough, I drifted off to sleep. 

Spencer considered my body his safe space, but he was mine as well. 

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[bobbertskeetz]

Derek Morgan x Female!Reader

maybe something where reader goes into labor while Derek is away on a case or reader surprises Derek with a visit to the office and brings their new born along with her ( kinds how Haley did with Jack in the earlier seasons )

AHHHH!! love this one, thank you very much for the request. Actually thinking of combining both of these into a two part imagine?? For now though, enjoy panicked Derek <3

𝙪𝙣𝙥𝙡𝙪𝙜𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙙.𝙢 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Despite his desperate attempts to be by your side 24/7, Derek is convinced the universe is out to get him during the final days of your pregnancy

Themes/Warnings: pregnant!reader, fiance!derek, general themes of the show e.g unsubs, graphic cases (not in depth detail) fem!reader, fluff fluff Fluff!!! angst if you squint...

"Don't-"

"Derek please."

"Sit! Ah ah, stay... good girl, you get a treat."

A quick sloppy kiss is planted on your left cheek while Derek holds you down by the shoulders, trapping you in place in the nest of pillows and blankets he created to accomodate your swollen stomach and achy back. Your fiance stands behind you, knees kneeling on the arm rest, while he massages the knot growing at the base of your neck, while you lightly scoff.

"Speak to me like that again and I will knife you."

"Easy Mama, you shouldn't model such a hostile attitude for the little man!"

Reaching up behind you, you grasp at his neck gently, bringing him back down to your level for a kiss. The kiss goodbye which you had previously attempted to get up and give him, before he left for God knows how long.

A cheeky grin grew on his lips as you moved to his ear with a whisper;

"She, will be the most well-mannered child ever born, taking after her mother..."

"Bet?"

"Shut up," another kiss lands on his lips, "Hotch is waiting."

Derek lets a low groan, one saturated in frustration, slowly spill into your shared kisses. Eyebrows furrowed together, accompanied by a small frown, he allows his head to lull to one side, rubbing the pad of his thumb tenderly along your jawline.

"Don't dare move from this couch, Sweetheart. Not without Garcia or your mother here to help you out."

"Der-"

"Humour me gorgeous?"

A final kiss, and a huff;

"Fine."

You can't find it in yourself to feel any sort of remorse for agreeing to his terms as his blinding toothy grin leaves a fuzzy warmth budding in the pit of your stomach. What harm will a few days on the sofa do you anyhow?

Hotch was growing impatient, although, trying his best to remain understanding. He knew how hard it was, how the guilt of leaving your pregnant partner at home eats you alive. However, these were the demands of the job. One last nagging phone call from Hotch, and Derek was half way out the door, reminding you of the meals in the fridge (kindly prepared that morning by Penelope) and of the vitamin supplements you have to take before you go to bed.

With a swift, yet endearing exchange of I love you's, Derek was finally on his way to Florida. He knew it was silly, hating an arsonist more for taking him away from his growing family, than the actual crimes committed. Yet, these were the demands of matrimony and fatherhood.

--

Three days of couch-rotting down, and you were verging on insanity. Every slight movement left a series of uncomfortable spasms in your joints, the braxon hicks were something serious, and you constantly felt as though you had a gaping hole in your stomach, almost as if you were riding a never ending rollercoaster. Baby Morgan needed to make an appearence soon, or she would have to be evicted.

With twenty minutes left on the clock before your mother was scheduled to come and help you to the bath, you awoke from your half-sleep with a start. Why were your sweatpants sticking to your thighs?

Yes, Derek forbid you from moving unless absolutely necessary, however, peeing yourself was definitely classed as an emergancy. Except, you hadn't. There, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, sat a weird bloody substance on the line of your underwear.

Fuck. Me.

Immediately you called your fiance. Should you be calling him first? What's he going to do from Florida? This was a bad idea, he's busy after all... But, before your anxiety could hang up the phone, the one voice you so desperately needed sang down the line like a prayer.

"Hey gorgeous girl, how's my little famil-"

"Baby! Now- baby is- Help."

"What?! Sweetheart hold on, are you sure?"

"Honey, my mucus plug is very much unplugged and my abdomen is being ripped apart."

A sharp wail escaped you as a dull ache made itself known in the pits of your cervix, and then the anger came.

"Derek. I need you. Now."

"Everything is going to be just fine sweetheart, let me call-"

"No! Don't leave me, please don't leave me."

"Okay angel, I'm right here." His assurance soothed you for the time being, both of you awaiting your mother's arrival. And it was safe to say, Derek was sick to his stomach.

--

Every damn day. Every day he tried his hardest to be there, especially nearing the end of your third trimester. His biggest fear was accidentally leaving you alone when that one awaited moment came; and his greatest nightmare had just come true.

"I should've been there Reid!"

Spencer nodded, sympathetically, "You couldn't have predicted this."

"Well, I should've. Fuck. It's just exactly what I should've predicted" He felt as though he could cry, and stifling a sniffle he continued, "Of course the second I leave that's when the little guy decides to make an appearance."

"Murphy's law! Essentially everything that could go wrong will go wrong. Named after Edward A. Murphy Jr, for centuries this belief has plagued several societies-"

"Spence." JJ shook her head gently, nudging it towards Derek's defeated countenance.

Grimacing, Spencer blushed and tried again, "Morgan, honestly you couldn't have done any more than you already have."

JJ then chimed in, "She's not holding this against you, shit happens, and you are getting ready to go home right now! I mean - you got the call a half hour ago, and already the jet's almost ready"

Opening his mouth the respond, Derek was cut off by Hotch swinging the precint's office door open, informing him that he could go home.

"Jesus, that fast?"

He was already rushing out of the room when he heard the discussion between JJ and Hotch,

"Special treatment for the family man."

Family man. He was a family man now. Non-commital SSA Derek Morgan had a bride-to-be waiting for him, and a baby on the way. And he could never be happier.

--

Within hours, Derek was bulldozing his way through the ward, stopping every nurse who was unfortunate enough to get in his way, to ask for your room. When he finally found you, he all but fell through the door with panic.

"Is everyone okay?" Kiss. "Hi baby!" Kiss. "Are you okay?! Is baby?"

The tenderness with which he held your face immediately soothed every anxiety within your body, even only momentarily. He was here, he made it. After an elongated silence, you shook yourself into action, reminding yourself that Derek was not a mind reader, despite what his job would lead you to believe.

"Everyone's okay honey, little rascal is still inside me," you replied softly, almost inaudibly, the fear felt previously when you had first called him suddenly returning, "You made it?"

His heart lurched and eyes softened at the vulnerability in your voice, and Derek finally took in the sheet white anxious expression settled on your face. Gently, he clasped his warm hand around your own, careful to avoid tugging at your drip, and dropped a sweet kiss to the cracks of your knuckles.

"I made it sweet girl." Another kiss, then travelling to your trembling lips, "I'll always make it doll. That, I can promise you forever."

[moonchildstyles]

has Older!Harry ever had to work later than he thought, maybe running into plans he had with pretty girl?

wordcount: 3k+

—————

"What do you think, H?" 

(Y/N) twirled in front of where Harry sat on his couch, showing off the new dress he had pushed her into rewarding herself with (with his credit card, of course) after getting through midterms. He'd seen the photos online, but she wanted him to get a look at the real thing—see if he liked it on her as much as he said he would. 

Looking up from his phone, he gave her a bright smile. "Sweetheart," he crooned, appraising her with an adoring gaze, "Y'look—" 

His phone buzzed in his hand, the disturbance cutting him off as he was forced to glance down at the device. His features posed into something grim with a set line on his jaw and pursed lips. 

"What is it?" (Y/N) asked, fiddling with her nails with her purse hanging from her wrist. He'd been attached to his phone since he'd come over to pick her up, constantly going back and forth between doling out his attention to her before being taken away by his phone. 

He shook his head much like he had done every other time (Y/N) had asked what had been going on. "Jus' something at the office—trying to figure out what happened." 

"Is it bad?" she asked, sinking into the couch next to him in hopes of skimming a glance at his screen. 

"A little, if it is what I think it is," he murmured distractedly, scrolling through a report (Y/N) had no hopes of recognizing. 

Quietly, she watched as he tapped away, aware of the time ticking down towards their reservations. "Do you think you'll be done before we need to leave?" 

Seemingly suddenly realizing the time, he heaved a sigh. "I hope." 

Just as the words left his mouth, an incoming call colored his screen. 

"Hold on," he told her, rising from his seat with his phone in a tight grip, "If 'm not off the phone by the time we need to leave, come and get me, 'kay?" 

As soon as she gave a nod, Harry had his phone pressed to his ear and was heading upstairs towards his office. His voice was rumbling and low, but she could hear the curt tone even from where she sat. She watched as he disappeared up the staircase before pulling her own phone out. She'd give him ten minutes, she decided—it would be cutting it close to the reservation, but she didn't want to stress him out any more than he obviously already was. 

—————

(Y/N)'s lips thinned as she watched the time tick off one more minute.

6:45pm. 

Harry had been tucked away upstairs for the full of the ten minute timer she had set for him. She hoped the problem wasn't as bad as he had feared, but she had a feeling it was that or much worse. He hated being late for any kind of appointment, so she doubted he had just lost track of time while working. 

Rising to her feet, joints popping from being folded up on his couch while she had waited, she started for the stairs. Her heels clicked over his floors, following her up the case and towards his office. Only a few paces away, she could hear him speaking behind the door. None of the words were clear, but it definitely wasn't a good sign to hear him still on the phone.

She quietly knocked on the door, pausing for a moment before pushing it open. Peering around the wood, she found Harry just as she figured she would: sat behind his desk, features pinched and sharp as he stared at his computer screen with his phone pressed to his ear. 

He hadn't even noticed her peeking in, mumbling something to his associate with his eyes reflecting whatever he was scrolling through on his screen. Clearing her throat, (Y/N) finally gained Harry's attention. 

His features quickly softened at the sight of her. 

"H? Are you ready to go?" she peeped, hoping whoever was on the other end of the call couldn't hear her. 

Lips thinning, he murmured an excuse to his call before pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment. With the receiver pressed to his shoulder, eyes speaking apologies before he'd even shared a word.

"Sweetheart," he started, the syllables floating on a sigh, "I can't leave, yet. 'S worse than I thought." 

While she was sympathetic to whatever he was dealing with—Harry never liked to bring work home if he could help it, especially if it was problem based like this—she couldn't help the way her shoulders deflated some. "Will we still be able to make dinner? It's almost six." 

Harry glanced at the time himself then, hesitating meeting her eyes once more. "I don't know, love. 'M so sorry, I really didn't think it was going to be this complicated." 

"It's okay, it's okay," she waved him off, already creeping out of the room, "I'll call and see if they have anything later, but don't worry." 

A sad smile wormed its way onto his lips, molding into the apples of his cheeks though the curl didn't meet his eyes. "Thank you, love." 

After offering her own small smile, (Y/N) slipped out of the room with the door clicking behind her. Taking in a deep breath, she slipped her phone out of her bag before pulling up the restaurant's website. She had a feeling, just with how coveted their original reservation was, that there wouldn't be anything else available but she didn't feel like telling Harry that kind of news at the moment. 

Taking in a sigh, (Y/N) started towards the stairs with her phone pressed to her ear. 

"Thank you for calling Elio, how can I help you?" 

"Hi—um—I have a reservation in thirty minutes, but I was wondering if..." 

—————

After shooting off a text to Harry that there wasn't anything else available fore the night, (Y/N) had resigned herself to a night on the couch. Even when he'd answered with a promise that he would figure something out as soon as he fixed whatever was going on, she hadn't bet on the possibility. 

When it came to things like these—problems outside of his control, unanticipated mistakes—Harry had a hard time letting them go until they were back up to his standards. He wouldn't be able to relax enough to spend the night with her, she knew that. Instead she had only messaged him back that she'd be downstairs for him whenever he was ready with a heart emoji tacked on the end. 

That was how she found herself tucked into the cushions of his couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table, and a fluffy blanket over her lap with one of her reality TV shows on screen. She wasn't paying much attention to the scenes, the episode one she had already seen, instead poking at her phone for entertainment. 

As the time ticked on, closer and closer to Harry having been stuck working for over an hour, part of her wanted to head upstairs and see if she could pry him away. If he finished soon, they could still at least go out somewhere, keeping her dress and makeup from going to waste. But, she could still hear his rumbling voice at times carrying through the walls—he was still stuck on the phone. She could only imagine the kind of stress he was feeling if he was still stuck on the same problem almost an hour later.

Curled on his couch, (Y/N) almost winced when her stomach growled. She had kept herself from snacking after class, knowing she was going to want to have all the room possible for the immaculate dinner Harry had planned. Now, with the time ticking well past their reservations, she was feeling the consequences of her abstinence. 

Though she wasn't particularly keen on the idea of padding upstairs and asking Harry if he would be okay with some takeaway for the night, there wasn't much else she could do. (Harry had been teaching her as much as he could when it came to the kitchen, but that didn't mean that she was particularly good yet). Especially after she had made the choice to indulge in watching too many sushi videos that popped up on her social media—she doubted she could wait for Harry to finish up before scampering off for dinner.

Moving upstairs, (Y/N) paused outside of Harry's office, her ear keen to the door in hopes of finding a good time to pop in. Though she wasn't encouraged at the stretching silence on the other side, there wasn't much of a better time, she decided when she finally knocked on the door.  A responding grumble came from the other side.

Peeking inside, he didn't look much different than when she had seen him last. Now, his sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his hair mussed, but that pinch between his brows lingered with his jaw in a strong set. He looked tired this time when he glanced up at her, the fan of his lashes becoming a drooping frame around his eyes. 

"Sorry," she started, keeping her voice low at the sight of his phone still pressed to his ear, "Um, I was thinking about ordering dinner, if that's alright with you?" 

He took a moment, pulling his phone from his ear, poking at the mute button before clearing his throat. "Are y'sure? If I finish soon, I can still take y'out," he told her, voice softer than what she was sure he was sharing on the phone. 

"It's almost eight-thirty, H," (Y/N) gently reminded him, resting her head on the doorjamb as she gazed at him, "I'm sure you're hungry, too." 

He seemingly suddenly realized there were other things going on than the emails and clients he was dealing with. He deflated after taking in a deep breath. "Right. 'M sorry, (Y/N), really."

"No, it's okay, don't worry. I under—" 

"Mr. Styles, Dean has the group scheduled for a conference call in the morning, but is—" 

"Michael," Harry said, pulling the phone to his ear with the speaker off and mute unselected, "'M going to have to call you back." 

(Y/N) was taken aback at his sudden suggestion, though she continued listening from where she stood at the threshold. She hoped he wasn't ending the call on her account. 

"Ten minutes, and I'll call y'back. Can y'handle that, or do I need to keep holding your hand?" 

Maybe it was a bit harsh, but (Y/N) had to hold back her laughter with her hand stamped over her mouth. It wasn't like her boyfriend at all to snap at anyone, including his colleagues, but she couldn't Balme him after being corralled in his office for over an hour. The man on the other end—Micheael—must have stood down seeing as Harry hung up the call with nothing else to share. 

Plopping the device face down on his desk, Harry pulled in a sigh before fixing his eyes to (Y/N) once more. "C'mere, pretty girl." 

His open arms were an offer as she padded across his office. He collected her against his chest once she had rounded his desk, pulling her as close as he could with her folded in his lap. 

"'M sorry," he murmured, voice low in her ear as she settled her chin on his shoulder with her arms looped around his middle, "I didn't mean to ruin the night, sweetheart." 

"It's not your fault," she reminded him, "And nothing is ruined. Sometimes things like this happen. I'm not mad." 

He pulsed his arms around her, tightening his hug with a kiss pressed to the side of her head. "You're too good to me, love. Thank you." 

Drawing away, (Y/N) shifted until she had his cheeks cradled in her hands. Thumbing at his cheekbones, she attempted to draw a smile out of his solemn features when she squished his cheeks with his lips forced into a puffy pout. Her responding laughter was enough to have him straining against her hands with his own attempting smile. 

"You know I'm never upset to stay home," she told him, leaning forward to peck a kiss to his puckered lips, "It's okay, H." 

"Promise?" he mushed out, words muffled against her squish. 

"Promise," she resounded, giving him another kiss before releasing his cheeks, "I think I'm going to order Chinese, so just come down whenever you're done and it'll be waiting." 

His arms were a cradle around her, one that kept her locked on his lap as he pressed forward and gave her a lingering kiss. "I love you, you know that?" 

"I do," she answered, smiling into his kiss, "I love you, too." 

Though he opened his mouth, prepping to say more, his phone began to buzz on his desk once more. (Y/N) could feel the way he deflated in response, hesitant to answer the call. 

Untangling herself from his lap, she gave him a soft smile. "Finish whatever you need to do, okay? I'll be downstairs whenever you're done." 

His apology was clear on his face without a single word having to be shared. "I'll be fast," he vowed. 

"I know." 

With that, Harry pressed the phone to his ear with a sharp greeting while (Y/N) scurried out of his office. Though she was still tired and hungry, she felt better after getting a chance to talk to him. She doubted he would finish up as fast as he wanted, but she hoped he understood there was no pressure to be felt on her end. 

Chinese food kept perfectly well, anyway.

—————

"Goodnight, Micheal. Have a nice weekend." 

Harry didn't wait for a send off on the other end, hanging up on his coworker as soon as the words left his mouth. He'd heard enough of Micheal's voice to last a lifetime, especially after finding out that this entire mixup was nothing more than a paperwork error he hadn't properly checked the first time. Nonetheless, Harry was just happy to no longer be glued to his phone with his laptop lid shut for the foreseeable future. 

He dreaded to look at the time on his phone, but knew he had no choice. 

10:16pm. 

Sighing at the sight, he pocketed his phone with his joints cracking as he stood from his chair. (Y/N) had been quiet for a while now, no more padding around coming from the floor below for the better part of the last half hour. 

She had been so understanding, letting him disappear and forcing them to cancel their dinner plans only for her to give soft condolences and sweet kisses in response. He hoped she hadn't fallen asleep before he could make it up to her as much as he could. 

Making his way downstairs, the streaming service she had pulled up on his television was paused on one of her favorite shows, the program asking if she was still watching. The coffee table was set up with Chinese takeaway containers, everything clean and sectioned away with his own servings still packaged and warm. He knew what he would find when he peered over the back of the couch, but he still felt a bit of guilt when he saw her wrapped up in a too-small throw blanket on her body and a too-stiff decorative pillow under her head. 

Her hair was clean of every pin she'd used to style it, her dress replaced with comfortable pajamas, and face clean and shining in the low light. She was asleep, her breath coming in small puffs with each line and plane of her features left relaxed. 

He didn't even tell her goodnight. 

Petting his hand over her temple to push stray baby hairs out of her face, he allowed his fingertips to linger over her skin. The warmth of her was enough to thaw the strain he hadn't realized he was still carrying in his muscles. 

This would never get old, he decided. The evidence of her around his home was enough to get his heart kicking against his ribs, but to find her on his couch after a long night was something he hadn't realized he craved until he met her. Though he would prefer to have had more time with her, the stress of the night seemed worth it when he came downstairs to see this. 

If not for the fact he was just as hungry as (Y/N) had guessed by the amount of containers she left out for him, he would have tucked in beside her and slept off the stress. Instead, he settled for kicking off his shoes and heading for the linen closet for a warmer blanket to spread across her form. 

With (Y/N) snuggled under the fleece, he settled himself on the floor beside her. Though it wasn't a show he enjoyed watching without her commentary, Harry still pressed play on the episode she had left off on. He kept the volume low, reaching for the chopsticks that had come with the delivery. 

Twirling a bite of lo mein on the sticks, Harry hesitated before that first bite despite his gnawing stomach. Maybe it was the fact he couldn't get her soft face out of his head the last time she'd come to his office, or the way she had arranged all of his favorites out for him to pick through by the time he came downstairs, but it didn't feel right to have his dinner without her. 

There was no way he was going to wake her up, but that didn't stop him from reaching for the hand she had sticking out from under the blanket. Though it wasn't a particularly comfortable angle, he laced his fingers between hers. His chest warmed when she seemingly recognized his touch, reciprocating his hold as best she could in her sleep before snuggling the back of his hand to her cheek. 

Despite the cooling food in front of him, Harry let his eyes linger on the peaceful set of her features and the way she clung to his hand. A small smile thumbed a dimple into his cheek. 

He'd still be making it up to her tomorrow, but tonight hadn't turned out too bad. 

—————

thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any ideas you want to share please send them in!!! if you want to read more you can check out my patreon:)

[chiacanwritesometimes]

shopping headcanons!

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨🛒୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

ship: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 765

authors note: light hearted hc’s since ive been writing a lot of hurt/comfort. next fic is gonna be a little painful, so im giving a fluff offering before that! this one was really fun to write :) no warnings!! this was inspired by my recent shopping trip lolol, enjoy!

===========

shopping with bucky wasn’t easy. the few times you convinced him to go with you, he stayed a little grumpy throughout the trip. he mostly went to keep you safe, to watch you while you were in the zone. the times he didn’t go, he constantly checked your location, similar to a worried mother. when you came home, he would pepper kisses around you, exhaling in relief that you came home safely.

when shopping for groceries, he spent most of the time scoffing at the prices. almost as if on command, he would say, “back in my day, milk was a quarter”, or something of that nature. that always made you giggle and roll your eyes, so he was glad that his annoyance with inflation made you smile. he would try to buy 10 pounds of beef behind your back, but when you caught him, you both negotiated a reasonable amount to keep.

he would often visit the fruit section, and see if plums were in season. if plums weren’t there, his second option were mangoes, and if those weren’t there he would get oranges. despite how much he complained about going to the store, he enjoyed seeing you concentrated on the products, and making a calculated choice. he also enjoyed seeing other people, wondering why they were there. he would assign them backstories, for example: a nervous teenage boy in the flower section was about to go on his first date, an older woman with a warm appearance was buying ingredients to make brownies for her grandchildren, etc. it brought him some feeling of comfort, as if he was just another civilian with no other care. that, of course, wasn’t the case, but he liked to imagine it anyway.

when shopping for gifts, he would always suggest a candle, because that was the first thing you gifted him. he liked watching the little flame flicker, and was mesmerized by the comforting smell. he would ask you to buy a candle for him every time you went out the store, with an excuse that he ran out of his last one. he kept a secret collection underneath the bed, thinking you didn’t know. of course you knew, but you went along anyway, to please him. he was always excited to see what new smell you brought him this time, and kept certain smells in specific places. fruity for the bathroom, spice for the living room, citrus for the kitchen, eucalyptus and fresh linen for the laundry room. he had a whole system, and would change candles out for holidays. you enjoyed seeing him passionate about something, plus it made your house always smell good, so you never complained.

when shopping for household items, he suggested to buy in bulk, so as to make fewer trips overall. you agreed, but you both had different ideas as to what “in bulk” was. for you, it was buying a reasonable amount of toilet paper to last six months. for him, it was buying enough to last five years. you managed to compromise and land for 18 months, but you were always embarrassed checking out, because the cashier always had an amused look when seeing the amount of toiler paper in your shopping cart.

when checking out, you always paid in joint. he would pay half, and as would you, unless there were special circumstances. after paying his half, he would excuse himself, saying he needed to go to the bathroom or something. he then would run to the flower section of the store, grab a bouquet that you were eyeing, and pay through self checkout. by the time he finished paying, so did you, and he met up with you, bouquet in hand. despite how many times you told him not to spend money on those sorts of things, you always had the biggest smile on your face, so he never listened to you.

when unloading the shopping bags into the car, he would hand you a few bags, and escort you to the passenger seat. he didn’t want you doing a lot of work, plus he liked being the one to organize what goes where.

after arriving to your home, you would take a few bags and unlock the front door, returning to grab more bags. you’d always see him with all of the bags in his metal hand, and the other hand closing the trunk. he would smile sheepishly and hand you two bags from the bunch.

shopping with bucky wasn’t easy, but it certainly was entertaining.

[epigstolary]

Incubus

Tw: Non-consensual supernatural feeding and gaining

Shadows crawl around the corners of the room in the shifting light of the tv, making the fast food wrappers and empty microwave meal containers appear to dance and flicker on the living room floor. Yet you hardly notice as you relentlessly, rhythmically, joylessly chew your way through the last of several enormous burgers. Your chins and cheeks and tits wobble with every bite, and your belly, spilling out well beyond your knees, rises and falls slowly with every labored breath you take. Finally choking down the last bite of burger, you lean back, letting your ample fat settle back on top of you; and you hear the chair cracking and resettling with the shift in weight. Just as you think you’re finally done with your dinner, having packed away an enormous meal, you clearly hear his voice — though where it comes from, you can’t tell — and you know he has more planned.

“Wouldn’t you like to check and see what’s in the fridge?”

His voice throbs in your ears — closer than close, muffled and distorted, forceful enough to be heard clearly and never disobeyed, yet still with a lover’s soft tenderness. It’s been months since you first heard it, a quiet whisper at first, but one that grew steadily louder until you could no longer discount it as a figment of your imagination. The physical signs grew stronger along with it — at first, a light touch or a quick brush from thin air, but steadily increasing in force to a grasp or a pull, until finally it was a limb and a person you could see and touch. Except, not a person… and more than a person, you remember with a shudder. You remember, too, what you looked like when the voice started. Before you started eating like this. Before all this embarrassing, obscene weight. But the voice insists; it won’t be kept waiting, won’t be denied.

So no sooner do you hear it than you find yourself on your feet, all 700-plus pounds of you, wandering toward the refrigerator. Your body aches under the still-unfamiliar weight, joints screaming, muscles straining at their limit to move your tremendous bulk. You feel them working as the thick fat covering every inch of you now sways and wobbles with your steps — perpetually working its way out of your clothes, bulging out from under shirts and flowing over waistbands, gradually trying to undress you. You have to pull everything back into place, again, as you finally plant yourself in front of the refrigerator, breathing heavily and already beginning to sweat from just these short few steps.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust from the darkness of the room to the gleaming light of the refrigerator, your engorged and bloated body casting an even larger shadow on the far wall in its harsh glare. As usual, the fridge is stuffed full except for a neat cubby where the beef patties you just finished used to be. Towers of pizzas, piles of wrapped sandwiches, cases of soda, heaps of burger patties and sliced cheese, and countless takeout orders fill the space, waiting for your appetite to turn them into more fuel for your constantly growing blubber. You don’t buy it yourself; you don’t even know where it comes from. But it’s always full now.

“Doesn’t it all look so good? Maybe a pizza would hit the spot…”

You feel a hitch in your side at the thought of eating anything else — your belly is already so full that your breaths are coming short and quick from the pressure. It’s so painfully stuffed that even with your hand pressing into your side, almost buried under your topmost love handle, you can hardly catch your breath. You can’t possibly eat more, you realize; there’s no room.

“No… no, I don’t need a pizza…” you say weakly, wary of the response you’ll get. “I’m already too full…”

A distant rumble pulses through the house, the lights of the tv and fridge dimming and flickering in tandem. The first sign that he’s here. You feel two strong, cold, impossibly muscular arms reach around from behind you, slowly wrapping you in an embrace despite your wide girth. One takes a loving but powerful grip of your blob of an upper arm, overwhelmed by fat and pathetically weak in comparison to his; the other sinks into the thick, flowing rolls at your side, lifting them to make room and squeezing them with evident enjoyment. At the same time, you feel a sensation that’s become all too familiar — a tingling feeling like a limb waking up, part numbness, part stimulation — that spreads throughout your body. This is how it feels, you know, when he begins to take hold. You can see, too, the familiar but no less unsettling shadowy tendrils spreading down your arm, spidering over the hanging curve of your belly and into the folds of your sweeping rolls.

The first few times, you tried to resist — tear yourself away from him, run from the fridge, do anything to try and stop more food from going down your throat. Nothing worked. He always found you and always found a way, usually a much less pleasant one than just submitting would have been. That’s usually what you do, now that you know better, but he still likes to see you wrapped in those shadows. Maybe just to be careful — maybe just because he likes to see you bound.

“You can’t be full. You’ve hardly eaten anything. And you’re so thin, like you’re wasting away. You have to have something…”

The hand releases its grip of your arm and slowly, fingers trailing over the blubbery bulges of your dimpled elbow and puffy forearm, cups the back of your hand, gently guiding it toward one of the takeout containers. The package is dense and heavy as you take it from its place, and as you open it, you see why: it’s filled with what must be at least five pounds of pulled pork, about half gobbets of fat mixed in with the shredded meat, all swimming in a pool of thick barbecue sauce. A fork slides gently into your other hand as the first brings the pile of food closer to your lips, close enough that you can smell the sweet, smoky sauce. The tendrils tighten around your blubber, your fat squeezing between them in plump bulges; and a buzzing thrill runs through your body.

Without even bothering to warm the food up, and now unmindful of the pressure in your stomach, you begin shoveling forkfuls of meat and sauce into your mouth. Nothing in you wants this food, but you feel something compelling, driving you to have more, using the aroma of the sweet, spiced sauce and the sensation of the unctuous meat sliding over your tongue to simulate a convincing-enough facsimile of an appetite for you to keep eating. You’re dimly aware of your fat bulging more and more insistently beneath the shadowy, veiny grip; of growing bulkier and heavier with each bite; and of the tendrils spreading under your belly and up your thighs, sending waves of the tingling numbness rumbling through your very core. A gasp bubbles through a mouthful of sauce. Your heart races even faster.

You feel your body go limp but stay upright, your sense of time and place abandoning you. All you’re aware of is the dimness filling your eyes, the ringing in your ears, the muscular embrace from behind you pressing ever more insistently against your yielding flab, and of course the food passing through the hasty chewing in your mouth. It feels constant, endless, but kaleidoscopic, the taste of the barbecue blurring into greasy cheesiness, into the creamy sweetness of chocolate, into buttery pillows of potato, into the sweet rush of bubbly soda, into syrupy fruit and crispy crust, and on, and on, and on…

“That’s more like it. That’s how you should be eating. You’re going to feel so much better after you finally start eating right…”

Amidst the meandering flow of flavors, you gradually become aware of a feeling of your surroundings closing in on you. The dimness feels that much more oppressive, the ringing that much more insistent, the heat that much more stifling as it seems to wrap you, envelop you, smother the breath out of you and sap you of what little energy you still have. You try to struggle up from the darkness, focus on something other than the flavors, catch your breath at last; and for the longest time, you feel muscular hands reaching out from the dark, trying to draw you back in, feeling and grabbing for you until you finally, somehow, dodge the last of them and break free.

When you come to, the dimness clearing and the ringing subsiding, you find yourself leaning against the frame of the open refrigerator, a labored wheezing rumbling in your chest. Rivulets of sweat trickle over your rolls… trickle, you notice, for a strangely long time. Only then do you realize that the refrigerator is totally empty, save for a few crumpled takeout containers that look as if they were savaged by a wild animal. Only then do you feel the changes: the unfathomable weight crushing the frame of your body, the heft of the inhumanly large belly now pressing against your shins, the rolls of gelatinous lard flowing over your ankles and wrists, the thick fat smothering you in all directions, and the sheer volume of blubber keeping you from bending hardly at all. You didn’t break free — not even close.

However long you were made to eat, you can tell you must have eaten yourself most of the way to a ton by now. Your body is unrecognizable — as you, as human, as anything other than a literal pile of lard. You are easily more fat than person by now. Everywhere you touch, you’re met with rolls of heavy, jiggling blubber. Every time you try to move, a wall of fat feels like it’s in the way, the slightest movement taking the effort of a full workout. The enormous bags of fat hanging off your body everywhere continuously crush the air out of you, leaving you lightheaded, gasping, hardly able to stand. Each step is agony under this much weight, the hundreds of excess pounds not only taxing your frame to its limit but making you fight their wobbling inertia with every movement. In this sad state, you’re barely able to waddle backward a few inches from the refrigerator, heart pounding, stomach dropping at the blurred sight, reflected in dim stainless steel, of what you’ve done and what you’ve become.

The strobing light of the tv reaches the kitchen, illuminating your stretched, shapeless, impossibly fat body in a series of still images, as racing lines of shadow trace new dark channels over the yielding flesh. You feel your vast weight being pulled back now, tight against a tower of firm muscle — now grasping you not so gently, not so tenderly. An angular face settles into the crease where your double chins melt into a roll of neck fat running around your shoulders, hot breath coming in snorts down your nape. You feel his searching fingers, exploring your vast new bulk, clearly relishing the sight and feeling of your lard-packed body. It’s clear to him, and to you, that you’ve been fattened so completely as to be utterly helpless. And with the realization, you hear that deep, distorted voice, rumbling into a growling chuckle.

“There, doesn’t this feel so much better? Now you’re perfect. Now you’re MINE.”

[prone-to-fleeting-obsessions]

Dating Aventurine hc's

At first he hates the realization he's actually falling for someone

It eats away at him every second, this reminder that he's not, and likely never will be, in a great position to just have a normal life...

He's a pawn, always has been, so why would he put someone else through that?

Especially you...

But God if it isn't impossible not to love, to keep his fluttering heart from hoping, yearning for just your warm touch

Just the sight of you is enough, he decides to himself, as if that makes any difference in the end

It's obvious he dotes on you, his teasing remarks and genuine smiles are impossible to miss...

He follows you around in his free time, happily inserting him with a smug little grin, as if it's completely normal to have a IPC executive tailing you constantly

You're entertaining, or that's his excuse

He has to keep you safe, it's not like he trusts any of these other idiots to do it, and getting to watch you huff at him paying for everything is only a bonus

In that stage he enjoys being subtly possessive

You're not his, sure, but seeing you in his hat and sunglasses, or maybe with one of his cute little calling card chips fastened into a necklace, constantly on you...

His arm around your shoulder is enough to denture most people immediately, definitely not looking to get into a scuff with the "loose cannon of a gambler" he's generally seen as

When you're finally together he's not keen on taking his hands off you

Whether it's a light arms around your waist, just securing his spot by your side with an occasional squeeze, or his hand grabbing desperately at your hair as he focuses on pressing a kiss to every inch of your face with steadfast resolve

His favorite thing is just resting his chin on your shoulder, his pretty eyes staring up at yours endlessly

It's the perfect position, of course, arms around you with easy access to your neck, and it usually ends with your face hot to the touch by his intimate little kisses pressed so lovingly to your skin

He does have an appearance to maintain, so self care days where he paints your nails, washes your hair in a joint shower or bath, and drags you out to buy expensive clothes are must

Money is meant to be gambled or spent, it's not for hoarding, and that's abundant obvious by how he throws it around

It's another form of possession, really, seeing you decked out in what he's bought you, it gives him a sense of pride

It's hard for him not to project his childhood fears onto you, too

Like if he notices you're not eating, not drinking enough, brushing off a small injuries

He's seen plenty of people die to all those, and fighting down those blaring alarm bells can be difficult at the best of times

You'll often find a glass of water and small snack with a cute little note when you wake up, if he can't be there himself to make sure your needs are met, and he's expecting a text as soon as you're up to confirm you're fine

Anytime without contact for too long will consume him, gnawing at his insides, eating him slowly until he sees you again

He hates it, it's such a painful disadvantage in his line of work, but god if he can't help it...

He's very quick to scoop you up and pepper kisses to your pulse points immediately after, nuzzling against the physical feeling of your heartbeat and your warmth

He also can't help shaking off the mindset that he's merely a chip, to be used when  useful and discarded after

He knows that's not the case with you, knows it... But it's impossible to not feel a bolt of pure fear when you're unhappy with him, as if his worth is tied to his ability to be perfect for you

Pet names are obviously a must, and you might start to joke he doesn't actually know your real name with how rarely he uses it

You're his "darling love", his "perfect match", and, of course, his "adorable sweetheart"

He'll pout a bit if you don't reciprocate the absurd level of endearments on your end too

He probably won't even respond to "Aventurine" after a while, pretending not to hear you with an unmistakable smile, until you properly address him

He's left wondering how he's ever lived without you, and if he ever could again

[hubbvrd]

Love letter | Quinn Hughes

summary — in which quinn is in love with y/n the social media worker for the canucks.

pairing — quinn hughes x reader

words — 2955

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You couldn't choose who you fell in love with.

It usually happened so quickly that you hardly noticed and couldn't do anything about it.

It was actually a nice feeling to be in love. You had the feeling that the world suddenly became carefree and you walked around with a good feeling.

You were happy to see the person again and to be near them, while the warmth shot up your cheeks and your stomach tingled.

That's exactly how Quinn felt at the moment. He was in love.

A few weeks ago, he had fallen in love with the young woman y/n, who worked in social media for the Canucks.

In a joint video, in which the young woman had asked him countless questions to create content for the Canucks fans, the two of them had had a lot of fun and occasionally got a little closer to each other, so that the odd physical contact was inevitable.

Since then, Quinn had been thinking about the young woman almost constantly.

His teammates Elias and Brock would often catch him looking over at the young woman during training, who would take photos or videos and then post them on social media channels.

This was the case again today. Practice was in full swing as Quinn gripped his racket tighter and scanned the ice ring for the woman who was turning his head.

It took him a few seconds to spot her. She was standing there with a young man Quinn had only glimpsed so far and seemed to be laughing happily about something.

Every now and then, the stranger would touch her, causing Quinn to unconsciously tighten his grip on his bat and his eyebrows to furrow slightly.

"Hey man, you're staring again." Elias came to stand next to Quinn on the ice, so Quinn saw Elias adjusting his helmet out of the corner of his eye.

Quinn knew he didn't need to give Elias an excuse, because his best friend knew about the young woman and Quinn's feelings.

A few days ago, Elias had caught Quinn staring and then confronted him, but Quinn had folded not long after and told Elias everything.

After all, there were no secrets between the two best friends.

"You should finally ask her out."

Now Elias stood in front of Quinn so that he could no longer look over at the woman who had taken a liking to him.

"Elias, I-I..." Quinn began to give his team colleague another excuse, as he had done the last few times.

But he raised his gloved hand to indicate Quinn should be quiet.

As Elias began to speak, he gave the captain a serious look.

"Quinn, you have a different excuse every time. I can see how smitten you are. But the longer you hesitate, the less chance you have. I hate to say it, but I guess that guy over there is trying to get to her himself."

With a nod, Elias gestured over to the young woman and the red-haired man, who had come a little closer to her and kept grabbing her by the arm.

From a distance, Quinn couldn't interpret the expression on the young woman's face, as she was standing with half her back to him.

"And how am I supposed to do that? Just run over and pull her away from the redhead?"

A nervous expression formed on Quinn's face. The thought of simply walking over to her and approaching her made him start to sweat.

He wasn't good at approaching women, so the thought of talking to the young woman made him want to flee.

"That's actually how you do it, yes. But I have another idea." A grin formed on Elias's face as he stepped a little closer to Quinn and then whispered something in his best friend's ear.

And this idea appealed to Quinn so much that he decided to put it into practice.

"Good morning" a smile came to your lips as you greeted your colleagues and then slipped inside.

"Good morning, y/n! Good to see you." One of your colleagues, Lucy, ran up to you beaming and then pulled you into a tight hug.

Ever since you'd taken the social media job with the Canucks, Lucy and you had become instant friends.

Since then, you've been more or less inseparable. Lucy also worked for the social media team.

She usually took over the press conferences or was there for the post-match interviews, while you took care of the social media channels and shot the occasional content video.

The brunette put her arm around you as you walked side by side through the building to the small office where you had made yourselves comfortable.

The office wasn't very big, so only two desks fitted in opposite each other and two small, cozy armchairs had found their place at the other end of the wall.

Despite their small size, you loved the office more than anything, even if you spent more time on the road than in the office.

"What's on your agenda today?" You checked in with your colleague and best friend as you opened your office door and slipped into the light blue room.

On the wall behind your desk was a huge Canucks logo painted on the wall, while on the other blue-painted walls were some pictures of the team that you had taken yourself.

"I've actually just got some paperwork today and need to make a few phone calls for upcoming interviews, you?" Lucy dropped into her desk chair while you carelessly threw your jacket onto one of the chairs and then walked over to your desk.

Before you could even begin to reply, a white envelope lying on your desk caught his attention.

It wasn't unusual for you to receive mail in the morning, but this letter was different to the mail you usually received.

You could feel that directly. Slowly, you walked over to your desk as you answered Lucy curtly.

You didn't want your colleague to get suspicious.

Your name was written on the letter in curved handwriting. There was no sender or indication of where it might have come from.

This led you to conclude that this was a personal letter.

Your curiosity grew as you began to examine the letter, but made no attempt to open it.

Who wrote you a letter?

You carefully picked up the letter. It was quite light and you could feel a note through the thin envelope.

"Who did you get mail from?" You suddenly heard Lucy's voice, who had more or less caught you in the act.

"Oh, just from a customer, nothing important," you babbled and opened a drawer in your desk to carefully put the letter inside.

Your curiosity wouldn't diminish over the next hour, but you wanted to read the letter in peace and quiet, so you had to wait until Lucy left the office and you could finally be undisturbed.

But you didn't know how agonizingly slow the time would be until then.

Four agonizingly long hours passed before Lucy finally made the effort to leave your shared office to have a conversation.

After the door had slammed shut behind Lucy, you jerked out the letter, which you carefully opened and pulled out the neatly folded paper with your heart beating faster.

With trembling fingers and increasing nervousness, you unfolded the paper before placing it on the desk in front of you and began to read.

Dear y/n,

I keep looking at you, but can't touch you.

You don't know, how much l want to. want to be near you, want you to look my way.

A moment alone with you, would be beautiful. A moment alone with you, would feel eternal.

You skimmed over the words again and again. Your heart kept leaping in your chest as you read them.

You had never received such words before. In the past, you had always found it very cheesy when your friends told you that they had received love letters or wrote them themselves.

But now that you had your first love letter in front of you, it warmed your heart.

It was really sweet to read these words that were addressed directly to you.

You didn't know who this letter was from, but you wished it was a special person.

This one particular player called Quinn Hughes.

The first time you had made a video with him for social media, you had immediately noticed how well you Both got on and you had even gotten a little closer to each other at times.

Since then, you've often thought about the captain and occasionally caught yourself looking over at him and staring at him for a few seconds, lost in thought.

But what if the letter wasn't from Quinn at all, but from Alex? Alex had been very close to you recently and you had caught him looking for physical contact again and again.

Alex was a really nice young man, but you just wasn't attracted to him.

The thought that the letter could be from Alex made your face contort slightly and you put the letter aside.

Your fingers reached for the envelope, which you began to shake and shortly afterwards a small Post it note in the shape of a heart fell out.

You had completely overlooked the post it so far, so you reached for the pink note with a pounding heart and turned it over to reveal the writing.

If you're brave enough to find out who I am, meet me in the parking lot at 7 tonight.

Once again, no signature under the message. There wasn't even a single letter that would have given you any idea who had written you this sweet letter.

Your heart was almost pounding against your chest as you glanced at the bottom of my computer screen to see what time it was.

By now it was 6:30pm and so you still had some time before you would meet the unknown love letter writer.

Nervously, you started to slide around a bit on the black office chair.

You were really curious to find out who was behind the sweet lines.

But even though the message was really sweet, you were afraid that it might just be a joke.

After all, the Canucks boys had the occasional challenge and banter amongst themselves.

But had you really become one of her victims? With the best will in the world you couldn't really imagine that, as everyone was incredibly nice to you and treated you as if you'd been part of the team for ages.

Of course, you never know what makes other people tick and even though you couldn't imagine for the life of you that this letter was just a joke, you decided to be careful.

But despite all this, you wanted to know who was behind the letter and so you decided to go to the place where it was said and find out who it was.

Your heart beat a little faster against your chest with excitement and nervousness.

You hadn't mentioned the letter to Lucy once, so you had to come up with an excuse to more or less get rid of Lucy at the end of the working day an hour ago, as she was desperate to have a drink with you.

The last hour that you had spent alone in your office had gone by rather agonizingly slowly, even though you had already prepared a post or two for the next few days on social media.

But now it was time to find out who had written you the letter.

With every step you took closer to the parking lot, your heart began to beat faster and faster, making you feel like it could jump out of your chest at any second.

You buried your hands, which had become sweaty again, deeper into your jacket pockets, where your right hand played with your bunch of keys.

You were incredibly nervous, so your hand needed something to do and you were a little more distracted.

When you arrived at the parking lot, your eyes wandered nervously back and forth.

In addition to your car, there were four other cars in the parking lot, but you couldn't identify their owners.

Since you didn't know exactly where to wait in the not-so-small parking lot, you positioned yourself a little more centrally in the large parking lot so that the unknown person could easily spot you.

A glance at your cell phone display showed that it was still five minutes until 7 pm.

You used the time to take a few more deep breaths and try to calm yourself down as best you could.

Luckily, it wasn't a dark time of year, so you didn't have to be afraid of the parking lot, which was usually only dimly lit by a few lanterns in winter.

Although the weather was pretty gloomy today and the clouds were increasing, it was bright enough that you had a good view of all the creepy corners and only had to run a few meters to your car if necessary.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings and every time footsteps came closer, you looked hopefully in the direction they were coming from.

But none of them paid any attention to you and shortly afterwards, all but one of the other cars pulled away.

So the last car, which was not too far away from yours, had to be the car of the man who had written you the letter.

A few more minutes passed, during which the nervousness began to creep up inside you again.

And then suddenly the time had come.

From a distance, you could recognize someone. The person was wearing a dark blue hoodie that clearly stood out.

His hood was pulled over his head and his gaze was slightly lowered, so you couldn't tell who it was yet.

On his shoulder was a sports bag, on which you could see the Canucks logo from a distance.

So it was a player, you thought, as the stranger came closer and closer to you and your nervousness grew so much that your heart began to pound in your chest again.

He seemed to be moving in slow motion and took forever to get to you, so you started moving without thinking twice and ran towards him.

When the two of you finally came face to face, the stranger slowly lifted his head and pulled the hood off his head, revealing thick brown hair.

And your heart literally skipped a beat as you struggled not to clasp your hands over your mouth.

Because standing in front of you was none other than Quinn Hughes.

The man you had gotten a little closer to some time ago.

The man you got on well with straight away.

The man who made you laugh.

The man you couldn't stop thinking about.

"Quinn..." His name left your mouth in an almost whisper.

The person opposite you nodded in response, a shy smile on his lips and he began to clutch the handle of his sports bag like a lifeline.

Suddenly he seemed so shy and embarrassed. Very different from your video shoot.

He cleared his throat. "Hello, y/n."

"The...the letter...it's from you?" To be on the safe side, you checked again. There was a little fear in your voice because you wanted the letter to be from him.

"Yes, I wrote the letter."

Embarrassed, Quinn looked at you and ran his free hand through his thick hair, brushing a few strands that had fallen into his eyes out of his face.

"Wow...I mean...those words really touched me" You babbled on, which made Quinn's cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Really?" he asked hopefully. He couldn't seem to believe that you were reacting so positively.

You began to nod eagerly.  "Yes, really!" 

Quinn began to almost beam and seemed to spend some time searching for the right words, which made you slightly nervous.

"I'm not really good at talking, that's why Elias gave me the idea of the letter. I thought you thought this was just a joke and you weren't even going to show up, but I'm really relieved you're here."

Now it was Quinn who was babbling nervously as his left hand moved to the back of his neck, where he began to scratch himself in embarrassment.

"Really? I thought it was a joke too, since the name wasn't signed. But I was too curious and wanted to see who was here."

A nervous laugh leaves your lips, causing Quinn to start laughing as well.

"Wow...that's really something."

Quinn smirked slightly before gathering all his courage and finally the sentences he would have loved to ask you already left his mouth.

"Y/n I know this might be risky because you work for the same team as me. I don't know exactly what the contracts and agreement are here, but I think you realize there's something between us too, don't you? Would you...would you go out with me?"

His eyes looked at you with an almost hopeful expression, while your heart stumbled again and you began to feel the warmth rush to your cheeks.

And it actually didn't take you long to give Quinn a suitable answer.

Because the answer has been on the tip of your tongue for a long time and you were finally able to say it out loud.

"I would love to go on a date with you, Quinn."

[vigilante-3073]

Would you agree to write being on House’s team, they’re in a relationship (not secretive but not public. Maybe Cuddy and Wilson know?) anyway, reader is sick on and off and house constantly bugs her and makes fun of her, telling her she’s weak or to go home before she infects everyone and after a few days of that reader snaps and yells at him that she’s not sick she’s pregnant. Maybe house replies “mine I hope” or something like that that makes reader even more pissed at him

Sorry for the long ramble

Petri Dish

Gregory House x Doctor Female Reader

Summary: Doctor Y/N L/N was a valued member of Doctor House's team. Only problem, she was constantly sick with an illness of her own.

TW: Illness/sickness, treatments, boss/employee relationship, inter-office relationships, age gap, rude comments, vomiting, mention of needles and sex.

Y/N and House had been seeing each other romantically for almost a year. They hadn't intended to keep it a secret, but Y/N struggled with the idea of people finding out and casting judgement. There was almost a thirteen year age difference between them and the obvious boss/employee relationship would only make things more complicated.

Cuddy and Wilson were aware, but the couple chose to keep things discreet when they were working.

Y/N was a Rheumatologist with a subspecialty in Infectious Disease, she dealt with autoimmune diseases and diseases of the joints, muscle, tendons, ligaments and skeleton. House considered her to be a valuable member of his team, but her immune system had never been very reliable.

Y/N was always sick.

She caught absolutely every illness in the book. Infections, colds, tonsillitis, flus, pneumonia, and bronchitis were only some of the illnesses that she dealt with.

It seemed like she recovered from one illness and rolled right into the next. House thought that Y/N was like the human equivalent of the clear gel in the bottom of a petri dish, growing every bacteria that touched her into a monstrous illness.

She tried her best to work through her sickness and most of the time she could, but every illness seemed to hit her harder than it hit others.

Y/N was self conscious of her susceptibility to illness, she felt like it made her job difficult and she hated letting House down.

House lived to tease her about it, but he never judged her for it. He knew that their hours often meant that his staff burned the candle at both ends.

House slowly began to cut back on Y/N's hours, allowing her to get home for at least three hours of sleep a night. He deemed it a matter of public safety, when she didn't sleep, she got sick. The team seemed to buy it, but he could tell that there was underlying suspicion.

House knew that their suspicions would continue unless he focused on the issue. His solution was to begin calling his sweet girlfriend 'petri dish.'

Y/N absolutely hated the nickname, but kept quiet because there was no way to tell him to stop without drawing attention to their relationship.

House made his way down the hallway, stepping into his conference room and shrugging off his jacket. Cameron, Foreman and Chase sat at the table as they looked through the patient files.

"Where's Y/N?" House asked.

"She's out sick," Foreman answered, eyes focused on the paperwork in front of him.

"How sick? Spilling her guts or coughing up a lung?" House asked.

"I didn't ask," Foreman stated.

House moved over to the desk, picking up the handset and dialing Y/N's number.

"House, don't call her. She's sick, leave it alone," Cameron said.

He held up a finger, waiting as the line rang before Y/N picked up the phone.

"Where are you?" House asked.

"At home... I'm sick," Y/N replied, her voice was hoarse and virtually nonexistent. He planned on going to check on her after work, but he needed to focus on his case.

"Fine. Rest up, petri dish. Don't need you infecting the community," House said, hanging up the phone.

"That was rude," Cameron said.

"No, what's rude is what we're about to do," House said, grabbing his coat and putting it back on.

...

Y/N was sitting on the couch in her pyjamas as she watched television. A small trash can full of used tissues was placed on the floor beside her, a half-empty tissue box and a bag of lozenges sat on the coffee table beside her.

Y/N looked over as someone knocked on the door, she stood up and tossed her blanket aside. She shuffled across the living room before unlocking the door and opening it.

"No... Why?" Y/N mumbled.

House, Cameron, Chase and Foreman were standing in the hallway outside her apartment. House passed his cane to Cameron, he placed one of his hands on the back of Y/N's neck while pressing his other palm to her forehead.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked, he pulled away.

"You have a fever," He said, hands cupping her jaw as he palpated her lymph nodes.

"And swollen lymph nodes," House added. He grabbed his cane from Cameron, stepping around Y/N and moving into her apartment.

Chase, Foreman and Cameron lingered awkwardly on her doorstep. Y/N sighed and stepped out of the way, allowing them to enter her apartment.

"Put the board over there," House said, gesturing with his cane.

Chase carried the white board into her apartment and set it up in front of her television. Chase tossed the marker to House before sitting down in the armchair. Foreman leaned on the wall, crossing his arms as he watched House write out the list of symptoms.

"I got you a tea... I'm really sorry that we're barging in on you like this," Cameron said.

"Oh, she's fine. Just a mean case of the sniffles," House said.

Cameron shot him a look, "She's sick," She stated. Cameron sat down beside Y/N, setting her purse on the ground by her feet.

"She's always sick," House replied.

Cameron opened her mouth to argue before Y/N cut her off, "Thanks, Cameron," Y/N said, taking the warm beverage from her friend. Y/N sat down on the couch, dragging her blanket across her lap as she took a sip of her drink.

"Tell me what I'm looking at," Y/N said.

They went through the differential with Y/N's contributions and settled on three possibilities. Y/N was exhausted by the end of it, leaning back against the couch as she struggled to stay awake.

"Take the car and go do your tests. I'll take a cab back," House said, tossing his keys to Foreman.

"You sure?" Foreman asked.

House shrugged, "Just don't sell it to one of your homies," He said.

Foreman shot him a look before tucking the keys into his pocket, "See you at work, Y/N," He said.

"See you then," Y/N nodded, Foreman made his way out into the hallway.

Chase folded up the board, carrying it out of the apartment with a polite nod to Y/N.

Cameron stood up, "Feel better," She said.

"Will do," Y/N replied.

The door closed as Cameron stepped out, leaving House and Y/N alone in her apartment. House reached out and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead, checking her temperature again.

Y/N hummed, eyes drifting shut at the cool temperature of his skin. He stepped away from her wordlessly, moving down the hallway and into her bathroom.

House returned, gently nudging Y/N as he sat down beside her. She lifted her head, looking up to find him holding out a few pills and a glass of water.

"Tylenol for the fever. Drink all the water," He said.

Y/N took the pills from his hand, placing them in her mouth and swallowing them with a sip of water. She held the glass in her hands, thumbs brushing across the condensation on the cup.

"I don't like that nickname," She admitted.

"What? Petri dish? It's a cute little pet name," He said.

"I don't like it," Y/N said.

He nodded, "I'll stop using it," House said.

"Thank you," She replied, taking another sip of her water.

"I'll make you some lunch, then you can sleep, alright?" He questioned, Y/N nodded.

House made her some soup, getting her settled in her bed with another glass of water before he returned to the hospital. If the team had any questions about why he had stayed behind, they didn't ask.

...

Y/N read through the patient file, eyes flitting over the information as she thought of possible causes. House wrote the symptoms on the board before turning to the group of doctors gathered around the table.

The differential started and ideas were thrown around quickly, added to or eliminated before they formed a plan of action.

Y/N suddenly raised a hand to her mouth as bile rose up in her throat. She stood from her chair quickly, covering her mouth with her hand as she rushed across the room.

Y/N fell to her knees in front of the trash can, barely managing to pull her hair out of her face before she got sick.

"Guessing that we're not a fan of that idea," House said.

Cameron stood up, moving over to the sink quickly and filling up a glass of cold water. She grabbed a napkin from the dispenser before moving over to her friend.

"Here," Cameron said softly, passing her the cup as she stepped behind her and pulled her hair back. Cameron clipped her hair up in a simple twist, hand settling on her back.

"Are you okay? Is there anything else I can get you?" Cameron asked, Y/N shook her head.

"I'm fine," She muttered.

House turned to Foreman and Chase, "Secondary differential. Nausea, vomiting and increased irritability," House listed.

"Spending any amount of time with you," Cameron said, anger clearly evident in her tone.

"Ouch, any other ideas?" House asked.

"Pregnancy," Chase offered softly.

"It's mine, right?" House asked, Y/N shot him an enraged look.

"Wait, did you two sleep together?" Foreman questioned.

Y/N looked down with a huff, avoiding eye contact with her coworkers.

"My god, it's true, isn't it?" Chase asked.

"Seriously? He calls you 'petri dish'," Cameron said.

"It's a pet name," House replied with a shrug.

"A pet name that I hate," Y/N muttered, the nauseous feeling returning with full force. She set the glass down on the floor as she gagged, vomiting into the trash can again.

"Wait, are you actually pregnant?" Chase asked.

Y/N sniffled, wiping her mouth before picking up the glass again. She rinsed the acidic taste from her mouth, spitting a small amount of water into the trash can.

"I don't know," Y/N mumbled.

"Any other guesses?" House asked.

"The flu," Chase offered.

"We're not helping you with this. Take care of your girlfriend while we take care of the patient," Foreman said, standing from his chair and making his way out of the room.

"I can stay if you want me to," Cameron offered.

"I'll be okay," Y/N said.

Cameron stood up, walking out of the conference room with Chase following closely behind her.

House grabbed a chair from the table, setting it down in front of Y/N and sitting down. She shifted to sit with her back leaned against the desk, her legs stretched out across the floor in front of her.

Y/N sniffled again, wiping the tears from her cheeks before settling her hands in her lap, "I asked you not to tell them," Y/N stated.

"They were bound to find out eventually," House shrugged. He reached into his blazer, pulling out a pack of gum and offering a stick to her.

"Thanks," Y/N mumbled, unwrapping the stick. She put the gum into her mouth and began chewing it, "I can't believe you told my coworkers that we're sleeping together," Y/N muttered, tossing the gum wrapper into the trash can.

"Chase and Cameron are sleeping together. This is a safe space for inter-office boning," House said.

"They're sleeping together?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, I caught them in the janitors closet last week. Thought I should stake my claim before Foreman got any funny ideas," House said.

"I seriously doubt that there are many men lining up to date me, especially with a nickname like 'petri dish'," Y/N smiled, crossing her ankles.

House watched her for a moment, "Do you think that you're pregnant?" House asked.

Y/N shrugged, "I don't know. Haven't really thought about it," She said.

House stood up, making his way out into the hallway. He stepped over to one of the med carts, unlocking it before pulling out a vial of anti-nausea medication, a syringe and a wipe.

He drew up the medication, switching out the needle before returning to the conference room. House sat down in the chair in front of her, setting the syringe on the edge of the desk.

"Give me your arm," He said, tearing open the wipe.

Y/N shrugged off her lab coat, lifting her sleeve and allowing him to clean her skin before injecting her with the medication.

She grimaced, "Sorry," He muttered, wiping the spot and discarding the needle.

"I'll drive you home," House offered, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

Y/N took his hand, standing up from the floor and brushing the dirt from her clothes. House took her coat off the hook, holding it up for her. Y/N slipped her arms into the sleeves, allowing him to lift it up onto her shoulders.

House put his own coat on before he walked her out to his car and drove her home, escorting her up to her apartment.

Y/N slipped into the bathroom for a shower while House watched a tv show in her bed. Y/N emerged from the bathroom, clothed in a pair of pyjamas with damp hair.

"House," She called softly, he looked over at her.

Y/N made her way over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside him as she held out the plastic stick. He looked down at it, sitting up when he realized that she was holding a positive pregnancy test.

"You said you hadn't thought about it," House said.

"I lied," Y/N said with a soft smile.

"At least I don't have to worry about you being contagious," House said, cupping her cheek and pressing his lips to her's.

[rrat-king]

some Bad Girls accesory headcannons:

adaine

doesn't need glasses but wears blue light ones because the light gives her migraines. the glasses are round silver wire frames that she has broken and cast mending on too many times

she loses her glasses constantly so gorgug made her a glasses chain so they can just hang when she's not wearing them. it has little star charms and blue and silver beads

it's my hc that adaine didn't actually give kristen her pinky back, keeping the philange instead so she has the bone on a little necklace she wears. its morbid but sweet.

she has a leather book holster that ayda made her after she complimented her's so that they are matching. keeps her spellbook in it

has three bracelets from kristen: a red rubber 'vote for applebees' bracelet as well as two woven friendship bracelets, a purple and blue chevron as well as a orange white and blue striped

elf ears are... so stupidly sensitive so she has a hard time wearing earings but she does steal fig's ear cuffs a lot

kristen

wears dog tags with jawbone's number as her emergency contact in case anything happens. he doesn't legally have custody but its a safe way of making sure he gets called over her parents

got her septum peirced with fig in leviathan, was originally a silver barbell but had to take it out when she realized the silver meant that tracker wouldn't kiss her, so wears a little golden hoop instead

has six trillion bracelets. most of them are friendship bracelets she's made herself, but she also has a rubber sig figs bracelet, a pony bead bracelet that says 'little shrimp' as well as a 'WWCD?' she made with her campaign rubbers

bad at wearing rings but has a number of them that she keeps on a carabiner that tracker got her (most of them found in the river while throwing rocks with riz. don't ask her why there are so many lost rings in the river she doesn't question it)

she got rid of her cross necklace after meeting helio but still has the saint necklace she got at first cornmunion. it's saint iree, patron saint of the lost harvest

fig

has one of gorthalaxes guitar picks as a necklace along with a million others

wears rings around her horns, most of which she makes herself but fabian gifted her a few of his that he doesn't wear cuz 'they interfere with my fighting, thank you' that are nice elven gold

has a matching septum with kristen as well as a million other peircings

she. loves. mixing. metals. she wears a million pieces of jewelry and they are all mishmashed but because none of it matches it works

constantly stealing her mom's earings. it drives sandra lynn crazy

hardcore believer in scrunchys over hairties. always has one either in her hair on on her wrist even they somewhat clash with her aesthetic.

wears compression gloves under her fingerless gloves to help with her joints swelling

has a million pins including: some of her mom's old band pins that she let her have, band pins of her own, kristen's campaign buttons as well as kipperlillys but she doodles over those, pins she's made herself out of bottle caps, a little tin skateboard pin gorgug made her, and a red compass pin that ayda gave her that belonged to one of the previous ayda's

(will make one for the boys eventually when i have time to come to terms with riz's new found accessory addiction this season)

[miazetomer]

Heartless | Rafe Cameron x pogue(ish)!fem!reader (Part VI)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, fluff, smut, alcohol use, drug use, takes place during season one, the usual

Summary: You never really felt like you belonged anywhere. Your father was a pogue, your mother a kook. You felt out of place in The Cut, in Figure Eight, at the Academy. And Rafe Cameron certainly didn’t make things easier, he knew how to push your buttons, grinding your gears in just the right way, but he loved the little game you two played.

prev next

♡♡♡

It’s been a week since your fight with Rafe. He did buy you your new phone, but he couldn’t bring himself to face you, so he left it on your porch. You weren’t sure what to expect, but the silence was deafening. After the fight, you were so emotionally drained that you laid in bed for two days. You didn’t eat, you could barely sleep, no matter how many joints you smoked, you didn’t talk to anyone, not even Sarah. You know she heard your fight with him, she was right below his balcony on a lounge chair by the pool. She didn’t even get up to look in the pool when you threw his phone in, she just knew he deserved it. Your mom tried to convince you to get out of bed, to no avail. She even invited JJ over as a failed attempt to get you out of bed, but you just got upset with her. You didn’t want JJ to know about you and Rafe. It wasn’t until John B came in, with a case of your favorite seltzer, that you got out of bed.

“Don’t get mad and throw something.” He said, coming into your room, holding his hands up. “I come in peace. Your mom let me in.”

You just huffed and buried yourself under your covers.

He sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, looking around your room. This was the first time he was in your room at your Mom’s house. It was way bigger than your room at your Dad’s house, and you had your own bathroom, with a walk-in closet. He couldn’t understand why you would ever leave, especially to come to The Cut.

“Y/n…” He said quietly, trying to peel back your covers, but you just smacked his hand away. “Alright, I guess you don’t want any of these seltzers then.”

You finally peeked out from under the covers, slowly removing them before you sat up.

“There she is.” He had that same stupid smile he always had on his face.

♡♡♡

“So…You and Rafe Cameron, huh?” John B said as you sat on your balcony, drinking the seltzers he had brought over.

“There was no, ‘me and Rafe Cameron.’” You sighed, tucking your legs under you.

“So, then why are you so upset about him? The y/n I know would never be so upset over a guy, especially a guy she wasn’t even dating. I mean, I don’t even think you were this upset when you broke up with that one guy. What was his name? Lucas something.”

“I don’t know, I just thought…I just thought things would be different between me and him, you know?”

“With Rafe Cameron?”

“I know, it sounds so stupid when I say it out loud.” You mutter, putting your head in your hands. “Ok, like, you know how Kie feels about you?” You looked over at John B as he nodded, listening carefully to you. “That’s how I felt about Rafe.”

“Are we talking about the same Rafe? The one you’re constantly fighting with?”

“We never actually fought. This was our first real fight.”

“I just don’t understand why you give him the time of day, it’s so obvious he doesn’t deserve you.”

“I don’t know, JB, there’s just something about him.” You sighed, fiddling with your fingers.

“Yeah, that something is he’s crazy.”

“Ha, ha very funny.”

♡♡♡

You stood in your kitchen, the day of your annual bonfire. Your mom and step-dad were out of town on vacation and your little sister and brother were each at their own friend’s houses. You were drinking your usual latte when you heard the doorbell ring.

You sighed and opened the door to see a disheveled Rafe. It looked like he had been up for days, his hair was a mess, his shirt wasn’t even buttoned up all the way.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?” You sighed, standing in the doorway.

“We need to talk.” He said frantically.

“No, I don’t think we do.” You went to go shut the door, but Rafe grabbed it before you could. “Seriously? I have nothing to say to you Rafe.”

“Then-then I’ll talk and you listen. Please.”

“Fine. But, you aren’t coming inside.”

“That’s fine, I just need you to listen to me.”

“Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Alright, look I’m sorry I hooked up with Hannah, I shouldn’t have done it. I think…I think I’m just scared that something real is happening between you and me and that terrifies the shit out of me, if I’m being honest, it really does, because never have I ever felt the way that I feel about you about someone else. I knew it when we were kids and I know it now.”

Your hard gaze faltered as you continued listening to Rafe, taking in each and every single one of his words.

“Every girl I’ve ever been with means nothing in comparison to you. They’ve all just been distractions, distractions from the fact that I knew I could never be enough for you. You mean everything to me, y/n.”

You stepped closer to Rafe, your lips grazing over his, your noses brushing against each other.

“Say it, Rafe.” You whispered, looking up at him. “Say those three little words and I’m yours. That’s all it takes.”

“I-I…”

“I knew it.” You scoffed, stepping back from Rafe. “Goodbye, Rafe.” You muttered, stepping back inside and shutting the front door behind you.

♡♡♡

“Hey.” You said to the boys with a smile as you opened the front door.

“We brought beer.” JJ smiled holding up the two cases.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” You replied, closing the front door once they came inside.

“We couldn’t come empty handed.” John B explained.

“No really, you shouldn’t have, that’s literally the worst beer I’ve ever had.” You smiled, throwing your arms around John B and JJ, leading them into the backyard. “Where’s Pope and Kie?”

“They’re coming later, something about a keg run.”

You and the boys stepped into the backyard which was already littered with at least a hundred people, pogues and kooks standing around, drinking. You just prayed there wouldn’t be a fight this year.

♡♡♡

You sat on a log near the fire with John B, just talking, when felt him walk in. You don’t know how, but your body just always knows when Rafe Cameron is in the area, like it has a visceral reaction.

“I’ll be right back.” You muttered to John B when you finally spotted Rafe, setting your beer down on the ground next to the log.

You walked over with your head held high, but suddenly it felt like your mini skirt was too short and your sweater was too cropped. You pulled down at both as you approached Rafe.

“What are you doing here?” You asked Rafe with your arms crossed.

“You know I never miss your bonfire.” He answered with that stupid smirk on his face that you just wanted to slap off.

“Do you make it a habit of showing up to places where you aren’t wanted?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m wanted here.” He said, crossing his arms.

“If I wanted you here, I would’ve texted you.”

“Oh, I’m not talking about you.” Rafe smirked and nodded his head behind you. You looked behind you and saw a girl waiting by the fire, waving towards Rafe.

You turned towards Rafe and laughed.

“Of course.” You said sarcastically. “You always did move on quickly, Rafe.”

“And you aren’t getting comfy with that pogue?”

“Please, you know John B is just a friend.”

“I’m pretty sure friends don’t hook up with friends.”

“John B and I are not hooking up.”

“That’s not what Topper told me.” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“I can’t believe you actually listened to Topper. John B and I haven’t hooked up in months. I can’t even believe I’m explaining this to you.” You scoffed, crossing your arms. You watched as Rafe’s face faltered slightly, your words washing over him.

Rafe sighed and rubbed his temples, contemplating his next words.

“Can we just start over? Please, y/n.” Rafe begged, pressing his hands together.

“I told you what to say, Rafe, and you couldn’t even say it.”

Rafe took your hand and pulled you inside, leading you up to your room. You sighed and sat on your bed, crossing one leg over the other, as he squatted down in front of you. You liked him at this angle, lower than you.

“I’m sorry, okay. I know-I know should’ve said it. But you know me, y/n, you know how hard that is for me.”

“It shouldn’t be that hard if you mean it.”

“I do mean it, that’s why it’s so hard for me. If you were just some random girl I just wanted to hook up with, it would be so much easier to lie and just say it.”

“Bad choice of words Cameron.”

“But with you I would mean it. If I said it, it would make things real and that scares me, y/n.”

“You don’t think it scares me? Rafe, it terrifies me, but it’s a jump I’m willing to take with you. We would jump together, that’s what makes this so great. We would be a team. Just you and me.”

“Just you and me?”

“Just you and me.” You repeated, taking Rafe’s hands in yours, intertwining your fingers. You leaned down and pressed your forehead against Rafe’s, your noses brushing against each other. Rafe quickly closed the gap between your lips. The way your lips moved against each other’s was perfection, even better than when you kissed each other for the first time. You dropped his hands, and wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss, as Rafe started to stand up a little. You moved back on the bed and grabbed his collar, pulling him over you, one hand holding him above you and the other hand was gripping your waist. His tongue ran over your bottom lip, begging for entrance into your mouth, and you opened up for him, letting his tongue slip in, tasting the cheap beer you were drinking. You wrapped your legs around Rafe’s waist, pulling him closer to you and he ground his hips into yours. You flipped both of you over, so you were straddling Rafe, your hands on either side of his head to hold you up, never breaking the kiss. You felt his hands move down your waist, then hips, before taking residence on your ass, gripping tightly. You groaned into the kiss, grinding your hips against Rafe’s, desperate for any type of friction.

“Rafe.” You moaned against his lips.

“Let me take care of you, baby.” He whispered, moving you so you were lying on your back. He moved off the bed and gently grabbed your legs, pulling you to the edge. Rafe started taking off your skirt and you lifted your hips slightly at an attempt to help him. You pulled your sweater off over your head, throwing it somewhere in your room as Rafe worked on removing your thong, muttering something about not wanting anything in the way. He kneeled in front of you, putting your legs on his shoulders, leaving a trail of kisses up your left leg.

He slowly licked a stripe through your folds, looking up at you, watching as you moaned.

“Stop teasing.” You groaned, kicking his shoulder lightly.

“Patience baby.” He said, before pressing a soft kiss to your clit.

Rafe’s lips attached themselves to your clit, sucking and licking gently. Before you knew it you were a moaning mess under him, your hands gripped his hair pulling lightly as your hips bucked up. Rafe’s left hand held your hips secure, while he continued his work on your clit. Rafe used his right to slide his middle and ring finger inside of you, pumping his fingers in and out of you at the perfect speed.

“Rafe.” His name flowed from your mouth like a prayer. Like you were some battered child and he was your saving grace. You swore you died and had gone to have heaven when you felt him curl his fingers inside of you, hitting that one spot you so desperately needed touched.

You clenched around his fingers, your orgasm approaching quickly. But before you could actually finish, Rafe was pulling his fingers out of you and stopped his assault on your clit, sitting back and taking in the sight of your dripping pussy.

You sat up on your elbows at the sudden loss of pleasure and looked down at Rafe.

“Sorry, baby, but I only want you cumming on my dick.” He said, standing up.

You groaned and tilted your head back, rolling your eyes in frustration. But you were quick to action, getting up on your knees, you moved over to Rafe and undid his belt as he took his shirt off, throwing it into the pile of clothes on the floor. Once he had his pants and boxers off, you were quick to grab his shoulders and pulled him down on the bed, moving to straddle him. You hovered over Rafe and grabbed his cock, lining it up with your entrance.

“You’re still on that birth control, right?” He asked, looking up at you while his hands gripped your hips.

“Does it matter?” You responded, clearly frustrated as you were trying to focus on getting Rafe inside of you.

“Are you trying to baby trap me?” Rafe joked, chuckling lightly.

“Stop talking.” You groaned as you sank down on him, clenching around his cock.

Rafe’s grip on your hips tightened as he realized he was balls deep inside of you. Your hands clutched Rafe’s thighs as you started moving up and down, rolling your hips. Rafe’s started thrusting up, meeting your hips. Your movements started to get sloppier as you reached closer to the finish. Rafe sat up and wrapped his arms around your waist, slipping one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it softly as he continued thrusting up into you. The only sounds that could be heard in the room were soft moans and grunts from Rafe, and the sound of skin slapping skin.

“Fuck Rafe.” You moaned, resting your head in the crook of his neck. “I-I’m so close.”

“Wait for me, baby.” He said softly, guiding your hips up and down. You clenched around Rafe, trying so desperately hard to hold it back. A few more thrusts up into you and Rafe was coming undone inside you and you finally released what you had been holding back. Your body relaxed against Rafe’s, your breathing fast against Rafe’s neck.

“I love you.” Rafe muttered against your neck as he left a few kisses there.

[keehomania]

MARK LEE (마크리) — BBF (DRABBLE)

✧.* MINORS DNI (18+)

there was something so appealing about having something you couldn’t. in this case, someone. you didn’t spend too much time wondering, asking why things were the way they were, you knew you had to go to the flow. maybe it was wrong, maybe you lacked morals and the right mind. maybe you just liked the chase, the thrill of it. whatever it was, you were in for it. you were so fucking in for it.

MARK LEE was insatiable. you didn’t understand at first but, then again, you didn’t pay much attention, and neither did he. you were used to your older brother bringing him around, an entire group of his friends huddled together. whether it was in his room, the living room, or outside, they were constantly there, a joint nuisance during your pre-teen years. you were just as much of a nusiance, bugging them, pestering them with whatever seemed to be on your mind at the time. you’d get a couple laughs, even if they were forced, but it was only right. you were their best friend’s baby sister, and they didn't mind you too much. they thought you were adorable, like a cute version of your brother. no matter how it seemed to you, what you felt for mark was just puppy love. it wasn’t something anybody found weird, as obvious as it was. you clung to him, laughed at his shitty jokes, and everybody found it adorable. there was nothing serious to it.

those years flew by faster than any of you had anticipated. a few summers later and you had grown into a beautiful, mature woman. you had put all the more care into your body, your studies, and your career. your brother often joked that he couldn’t recognize you, that you had grown up way too fast. he wasn’t far off, actually. you had spent a few summers away, studying abroad in greece for shits and giggles. the distance wasn’t as ideal as the progress, but you didn't regret a thing.

you came back a changed woman, and you were more than pleased with yourself. you missed korea more than anything, even the less than pleasantries that came with it. your brother was the first to greet you, embracing you in a big hug the minute you came in. he hadn’t seen you in years, and he was more than stunned with the outcome. “wow, you've gotten uglier,” he joked as he ruffled your hair. you only rolled your eyes at him, slapping his shoulder lightly. “you haven't changed at all, i see.” he mocked your words, sticking his tongue out after to emphasize one thing—just because you had changed doesn't mean everybody else did.

when it was time for his friends to come around, you realized just how little everything else had changed. your brother and his friends stuck to their usual routine, just like when they were younger. you didn’t think much of it, even though the thought of mark still lingered in your mind. you did your best to push it aside, reminding yourself that whatever it was you felt—you felt it ages ago. you were a kid, it was puppy love, and you didn't know any better.

when they finally came around, they made themselves comfortable in the backyard. your brother had informed them of your return, and they were ecstatic to see you, to see how you were doing. to see if you had changed, to see if you were dating, thought one of them in particular. the first thing that you did was dash out of the house to greet them. there were whoops of approval, a few warm hugs and handshakes, all mingling in the air with a few cheers of, “we missed you” and “you've changed so much.” you were thrilled with the feedback, taking in every bit of what everybody had to say. all but one.

mark didn’t know what exactly it was that he was expecting to see when you walked out. your brother spoke highly of your change, saying it was like you had matured overnight, but mark took his words with a grain of salt. he managed to stay afloat despite his anticipation, until you had finally revealed yourself. his knuckled turned white with the force of his fingers clutching his seat, yet he couldn’t utter a word. everyone was able to say something, to greet you, everyone but him. the words were there, he knew exactly what it was he wanted to say, but they refused to come out.

you met his gaze swiftly, failing to realize the sheer tension behind them, even as everybody quieted down. “hey, markie,” you approached him with a soft smile, standing on your toes as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “missed you so much.” he felt as if time had come to a halt, his body growing more warm and more intense with every passing second. he felt the way your arms enveloped him, and all he could smell was you. it was a familiar scent, a comforting one tinted with vanilla and cinnamon.

he finally forced himself to hug you back, his arms snaking around your waist. “missed you more, (y/n).” fuck, was he grateful to have finally said something, anything. it was when you finally pulled away that he finally got a good look at you, at what he had been missing out on for years on end. your brother had sugarcoated his praise and approval, you had changed in ways that felt vulgar to say aloud. it was the way the european sun had done you justice, lightening your hair and tanning your skin. he found himself face-to-face with said justice, the white tan lines peeking under your tank top giving him all the indication.

he saw it in the way your eyes beamed with something foreign, something that wasn’t childlike nor pure. it was something dangerous, something intimidating that forced his gaze to lock with yours, decorated by black strokes of eyeliner. it was in the way the tank top hung from your body, hovering just above your belly button—no, something hovering just above your pierced belly button. fuck, he could feel it now, in all the wrong places. it was in the way he could see your hard nipples under the sheer top, visible with the cold air brushing over them. it was in the way your short were too tight and, well, too short, hanging just an inch below your ass. he felt disgusting for looking, and he knew it was obvious.

“i’m gonna go back inside,” you announced aloud to everyone, but yours eyes never left mark. neither did the stupid smirk playing on your lips, fuck, maybe not everything changed. “it’s getting a little cold for me.” everybody murmured hums of approval, nothing too special, but mark was frozen in his spot. he watched you as you turned back around and went back inside, his eyes glazing over everything—the way your hair shifted, your shoulderblades, the curve of your back, and your ass. he felt awful, but he couldn't help himself. everything that seemed cute years ago no longer seemed cute.

“you better watch yourself, mark lee,” your brother cut through the silence as he sipped his beer, his tone accusatory in a playful way. “she’s still my baby sister.”

you were his baby sister, that was the only thing that hadn’t changed. what really changed was mark. he held it off for as long as he could, telling himself it didn’t matter, that you were both young and didn't understand what feelings were. you still didn’t understand, neither of you did, but feelings didn't matter anymore. you didn’t have to understand feelings to understand hormones.

“it’s weird seeing you drink,” you couldn't bite back the smirk playing on your face as you heard his voice. you leaned forward, arms crossed against the kitchen counter as you sipped your beer. it was like you had anticipated his arrival from the second you walked back into the house, it almost felt calculated. you didn’t turn back around, you could feel his presence, his gaze. “really weird.”

you hummed in response as you sipped your drink. you looked up at the window in front of you, locking eyes with his reflection, the smirk never leaving your face. “i’m full of surprises, right?” you practically purred, leaning forward as the straps of your top spilled down your shoulders. he felt the strain in his pants, one he prayed you wouldn't notice as his gaze flickered between your eyes and the valley of your cleavage, now all the more visible to him.

he tried to distract himself, to stop himself from giving in. his eyes fell to the floor, falling on a can of beer that either could’ve fallen to the floor, or been meticulously placed there. mark didn't know better, he never knew better. “you dropped a can,” he didn’t mean for his voice to tremble as much as it did, but it was too late. he was like a mouse in a room full of traps.

your smirk didn't falter as your gaze dropped to the can that you had placed by your feet. “you’re right,” you murmured as you sunk down. your legs remained upright, upper body bending down as you grabbed the can. you didn’t hear the way he cussed under his breath, but you didn’t need to. you saw it in his eyes as they dropped to your ass, the material of your shorts stuffed in between the mound of flesh, giving him the view he had been silently praying for. “didn't even notice.”

he wasn’t sure what it was that finally did it for him, but he had just about enough. you had turned your back to him once more, as if you were oblivious to what you were doing, but he caught the smirk on your face. it was just about enough to piss him off. his footsteps were heavy as he approached you, his breath hitching slightly as he bent down. his chest was tight, his heart thumping against his ribcage like a drum. “you’re really pushing it, aren’t you?” he spoke, his voice gruff with irritation. you scoffed, your hand grabbing his arm for balance as you turned, your clothed breasts brushing against his forearm.

you finally turned to face him, a glint in your eye. “pushing what exactly?” your tone was playful, taunting even. you had always been a tease, but now it was different. it wasn’t the same playful banter from when you were younger, it was something more, something that had his blood boiling.

his eyes searched yours, looking for any semblance of innocence he might've missed. he found none. “you know what i’m talking about,” he breathed, his hand hovering over your arm for a second too long. your skin felt hot under his touch, and he knew you felt it too. “gonna do something we’ll both regret.”

you leaned in closer, your breath grazing his cheek. “you think?” your voice was a whisper, filled with challenge. “i’m not a little girl anymore, mark.” your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the thump of his heart beneath his shirt. his eyes narrowed, the reminder hitting too close to home. “you're my best friend's baby sister,” he practically snapped, his frustration reaching a peak. his anger was misdirected, and he was aware of that. what he should’ve done was remind himself of the facts, the same facts that seemed to fight the tent in his pants. you stepped back, feigning innocence as you sipped from your can.

his gaze dropped to your mouth, watching the way your lips wrapped around the can. he could feel his resolve slipping away, his body begging him to do something, anything, to get closer to you. “it’s wrong,” he said, the words feeling foreign as they left his mouth. you set your beer down, a knowing smile playing on your lips. “is it?” your hand reached up, playing with the strands of your hair.

his hand shot out, grabbing yours before it could reach your hair. “your brother,” he began, his voice strained. “your brother would kill me.”

you stepped closer again, your hand still in his grasp. “he’ll never find out,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. you leaned in, pressing your body against his. “no one’s gonna find out.”

his eyes darkened, his grip on your hand tightening. “we shouldn't,” he warned, his voice barely above a whisper. “you're playing with fire.” you leaned in even closer, your tits pressing against his chest. “maybe i like getting burned,” you murmured, your other hand reaching up to trace his jawline.

his control snapped. he crushed his mouth against yours, his tongue delving deep, tasting every part of you. his hands roamed your body, feeling every curve and dip. you moaned into his mouth, your body responding instinctively to his touch. the kitchen floor was cold under your bare feet as you stepped out of your shorts, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you. “mark,” you whimpered, pulling him closer. his response was to lift you onto the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. he didn’t hesitate, his hand reaching into your panties, feeling the wetness that had been building up since you saw him again. “so eager,” he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin.

you pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it aside, revealing his muscular chest. your hands roamed over his biceps, taking in the warmth of his skin. “fuck,” you breathed as he kissed down your neck, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin.

his hand found your tits, his thumb flicking over your hardened nipples as his free hand worked on your panties. you arched your back, pushing yourself closer to him. “mark,” you repeated, your voice needy. his mouth found your nipple, sucking and biting gently, making you gasp. his other hand found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles. “shit, you’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice filled with disbelief as your juices coated his finger, leaving his nail slick and shiny.

you were lost in the feeling, your hips bucking against his hand. “please,” you begged, your voice a desperate whine. he complied, his hand moving faster, his teeth biting down harder. then, he pulled away, leaving you panting, your eyes glazed with desire. “not yet,” he said, his voice low and commanding. “i wanna see all of you.”

you didn’t argue, letting him pull your tank top over your head, revealing your bare breasts. “just like that, fuck,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over the flesh of your tits, stopping at the sight of the metal piercing that clung to your belly button. every bit of it helped him see you in a different light, a light that made his cock painfully hard in his pants. he took in the sight of you, so needy, messy and on display for him. it was wrong and he knew it, but he was too entranced to care anymore.

his hand snuck up to your mouth, his thumb pressing into your lower lip as he stared into your eyes. “you're so fucking tempting,” he groaned, the words slipping out despite his better judgment. you took his thumb into your mouth, sucking lightly before speaking, “so are you.” it was all the invitation he needed.

his hand moved down to the button of his pants, the sound of his zipper echoing through the kitchen. he stepped closer, his cock springing free, thick and long. you took in the sight of him, licking your lips, your eyes wide with anticipation. “are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice hoarse with desire. “more than you’ll ever know,” you replied, your voice just as breathless.

his hand moved behind your head, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer to him. your eyes never left his as he guided his cock to your mouth, the tip teasing your lower lip. you parted your lips, letting him in, feeling the warmth and hardness of him on your tongue. his grip tightened, his hips bucking slightly as you took him in deeper. your eyes watered slightly, but you didn’t care. you liked the way he felt, the way he filled your mouth. you liked the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes rolled back.

you moved your head back, letting his dick fall out of your mouth with a wet pop. “so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured, his voice strained with lust.

his hand left your hair, moving to the small of your back, pressing you closer as he kissed you again. you could feel his length pressing against your stomach, leaving a wet trail against your belly button as it slid down to your pussy. your hand found its way to his cock, stroking him gently. “you’re gonna get me all dirty,” you murmured against his lips, your voice teasing. “you want it clean?” he responded, a hint of mischief in his tone. “maybe later,” you replied, your hand moving faster, your thumb smearing precum over the tip of his cock.

his hands moved to your ass, cupping the flesh, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you closer. you could feel his cock sliding through your folds, the head brushing against your clit. “mark,” you moaned, your legs tightening around his waist. “i know,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “i know you want it.”

he didn’t wait for you to respond, didn't wait for permission. he pushed into you, filling you in one swift motion. you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. “fuck,” you whispered, the pain mixing with pleasure. he stilled, giving you a moment to adjust to his size. you took a deep breath, looking into his eyes. “more,” you demanded, your voice needy.

his thrusts grew deeper, harder, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. the kitchen counter was cold against your back, but you didn’t care. all you could feel was the heat between your legs, the way his cock filled you up, the way his hands held onto you like you were his. “you're so fucking tight,” he groaned, his hips moving with a ferocity that had you seeing stars.

you met each of his thrusts with your own, your body moving in sync with his. “fuck me harder,” you begged, your voice strained. he complied, his hips slamming into you, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. you could feel yourself getting closer, your orgasm building like a storm inside of you. “mark, i’m gonna—"”

his hand came down, colliding with the flesh of your ass, the sound echoing through the kitchen. “not yet,” he grunted, his rhythm not faltering. “i’m not done with you.” you moaned, your body responding to his dominance. he reached around, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in circles as he fucked you. you knew it was risky, but the thrill of it only made you want it more. he was lost in the pleasure, the morbidly amazing feeling of your cunt milking everything he had to give you. his cock was big, hitting all the right places that had you clawing at his back. he held you in place, arms draped around your waist as he drilled into you. he made sure one hand toyed with the flesh of your ass, gripping and probing hard enough to paint bruises. his other hand roamed over your tits, kneading the flesh as his thumb tugged at your nipples, but his curiosity got the better of him.

he couldn’t help the way his hand dropped to your stomach, fingertips tracing the piercing. he loved the way the light adorned the material, it was like eye candy to him. he kept his hand there as he pounded into you, the realization of just how big he was compared to you dawning upon him. it had to do with how your cunt struggled to take him whole, the outline of his cock practically under the skin of your stomach. he was entranced by it, thrusting into you just a little harder to really see it. you were so small compared to him, yet there you were, taking him whole. he placed his palm ovee your stomach as he continued to tear your pussy apart, his hand clasped over the outline of his cock. it was like he was jacking himself off, while he was inside you.

the pressure grew as his pace quickened, your body tightening around him. “please, ’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, your voice a mix of pleasure and pain. “do it,” he urged, his hand pressing down harder on your stomach. your eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. he groaned, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his own release. “gonna fill this pussy up,” he warned, his voice strained. “please,” you moaned, your cunt clenching around him.

his cock swelled, pulsing as he came inside you, his cum filling you up. your legs tightened around his waist, your body trembling with the aftershocks of your climax. your breath came put ragged and harsh, your chest heaving as his cum spilled down your thighs. he leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours.

you could feel his heart racing against your chest, his breath hot and ragged in your ear. “what now?” he whispered, his voice filled with uncertainty. “now, we clean up,” you replied, your voice low and sultry, your hand reached down, wrapping around his still hard cock. “and maybe we do it again,” you suggested, your eyes never leaving his.

his eyes searched yours, looking for any sign of regret or hesitation. what he found was a spark of excitement, a challenge. “you’re insatiable,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. “a little bit,” you replied, your smile widening. “now, get me off this counter before i get a bruise.”

he chuckled, his grip on your ass tightening as he lifted you off the counter. your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. “where to?” he asked, his voice still thick with lust. “my room,” you murmured, your eyes half-lidded. “we have all night.”

✧.*

[ismellbitches]

Albatrio headcanons because I say so (all canon btw trust me I’m grizzlyplays)

Jay:

- she braids hair when she’s nervous. Especially in the Black Sea, Gillion and Chip have been walking around with little braids in their hair and Jay has an intricately braided bun with feathers, beads and wire intertwined with her hair.

- she loves baked goods. Every island they visit a small, wrapped box of regional pastries will show up in the kitchen. Her favourite has been a warm, iced cinnamon log from Joaldo.

- She reads the newspaper.

- She speaks primordial with a similar accent to Caspian. Since the water genasi are so nomadic, it would make sense for her to have teachers breeze through on short contracts to support their tribes, so she picked it up from her various teachers.

- she had a flower garden with Ayva before she passed. The garden became Jays passion project, a way to cope with the loss of her sister. She converted it into a memorial, with a small fountain and a bed of forget-me-nots. While Jay has been out at sea, May has been using some Druidic magic to keep the garden alive.

- she used to have cat named “Sugar”. It turned out to be a Quasit belonging to the local warlock.

- Jay collects sea glass

- she has aphantasia.

Chip:

- he has frequent nightmares about his crew and co-captains dying. It is not uncommon to hear quiet footsteps around the Albatross in the wee hours of the morning, as he checks the breath of each member of his crew.

- He doesnt remember his parents. But he has given them names, in his head, just in case they didn’t give him up. He’s told Reuben about that. He called it dumb. Chip never told anyone else.

- he has a stash of non-perishables in the floorboards of the captains quarters. Just in case.

- sorry these are all so sad but hhhhh he has body dysmorphia. He’s never felt “good-looking” and no one’s ever really told him, so he has a lot of anxiety about his appearance and uses the bandana constantly. This was made worse with his undeath.

- May cooked Chip a steak when they were at her tavern c.a ep 98, to help him and Jay decompress after the stress of Gillion’s near-death. It’s the best meal he’s ever eaten.

- He loves crabs. They remind him of when Arlin used to take him crab-spotting in the southern sea beaches. When they got back to Canella, Chip took Ollie too.

- Reuben used to teach him sea shanties he’d heard in and around the taverns by the port on Skullslice. He remembers all of them.

- there were a good 3 years from when chip was 9-11 where he wasn’t hugged once.

- he’s really good at darts.

- Chip has cried in front of four people in his entire life: Arlin, Reuben, Jay and Gillion. He has only ever really lost it to Reuben though. It was on his 14th birthday when he momentarily forgot what Arlin looked like.

- he has a lip ring. That’s it.

Gillion:

- Gillion would love Spider-Man.

- he really enjoys spicy, fermented, and salty foods. They remind him of home.

- Gillion didn’t talk for 3 days after shattering his Callnch.

- the elders wanted him to learn more languages, but it was a struggle for him to pick up common, so they abandoned the idea. Gillion still tries to learn celestial though, managing some very broken phrases from Chip.

- He loves pillows, but they can’t really be a thing in the undersea, so hes been working with Jay on making a waterproof pillow for him and pretzel.

- His coral gives him headaches.

- He suffers from asthma and joint pain due to the change in his environment

- Gillion had a small collection of mini stone leviathans he had been carving his entire life. He was almost done with Pelegus before he was exiled

- he has a love of history. It was his favourite subject growing up.

- He had so many imaginary friends.

- he and Edyn made up a secret language to communicate to each other without the elders knowing. He remembers every word.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Reader Having A Chronic Illness

Inspired By: @thatstonedwriter and their adorable fic Pain In The Ass (Butcher x Chronic Illness!Reader) Please go check it out! I absolutely love it!!! 💕

A/N: Butcher looks so good in that gif oml 🫣 Anyways lol I can only speak for my own issues when I say it's absolutely the most frustrating thing I've ever dealt with. I wanted to keep it vague enough so as many people as possible could relate instead of just for the stomach problem/joint pain/fever babes :P Not requested, but something that's been on my mind!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Butcher, truthfully, worries a lot. Unlike Hughie, who has that worry written all over his face, Butcher is a lot more secretive about it. On the outside, he seems unbothered. Unfazed. When you finally admitted you're in a lot of pain and might not be able to take part in the mission, he gives you a "new" job back at the office that you can totally do from the couch under variously temperatured pads. Only a few times have you seen his mask of cool slip, especially when you were in serious pain/had to go the hospital. He didn't realize it was that serious, that it could get that serious. He might be hesitant to visit you, and does it out of the hours, but you'll wake up to him sitting next to you. He'll flip through a magazine like it's not shocking he's even there. He'll ask how you're feeling and get a nurse if you need one. He's awkward and at time hostile, but he really does mean to be thoughtful and affectionate. It just never comes out right.

Hughie, at first, kinda freaks out. Internally, of course. You can sense his panic, though. You assure him it comes in phases, in flare ups, and that eventually, hopefully, it will go into remission. You don't sugar coat it though. You want to be upfront about everything, even the more embarrassing symptoms like, for example, numerous trips to the bathroom. He's very attentive, even to things you don't even realize you're doing. He learns all your remedies and is quick to ask if you can handle xyz. He doesn't want to baby you, he makes that clear, but he can't imagine the pain you're in constantly and just wants to be there for you. Your favorite thing is when he sits with you and holds your hand or rubs your back. He'll watch TV and do research for the team and just be there for you. He knows there's not a lot that'll make you feel better, but being there for you is the least he can do, especially when nothing else is working.

Annie is a planner. She comes up with a plan for everything, especially if your health takes a turn for the worse. She's always there if you need anything. She carries her own pharmacy in her bag, not just for you, but there are all of your favorite remedies in there just in case. She doesn't make a big show if you need anything. She's always offering gum and mints and bandaids to everyone. Her rummaging around in her purse isn't too out of the norm. Like M.M. she does a lot of her own research and, like Kimiko, asks you a lot of questions. She wants to know what's typical pain and what's atypical. She worries about you, especially when you push yourself too hard thinking you're not good for the team unless you're useful. Everyone needs to rest regardless of illness or not. She'll invite you to watch a movie or listen to her Starlight House speech/plans as a sneaky way of getting you to rest with her. She knows you're not incapable, she just worries you're hurting yourself trying to prove your worth when everyone on the team already sees that worth, sees that they need you.

M.M. researches as much as possible. He wants to know what's wrong, what helps, what doesn't, the complications, everything. He knows you've got your own system, your own remedies, so he stocks up on everything you use and need and keeps it at his place/in his car so you don't have to worry. You try not to complain about it, to keep it to yourself, everyone in your life being less than enthusiastic when they listen, but he makes it known you can come to him no matter what. He's always checking in with you quietly, so as not to make a big deal about it, trying to make accommodations when you need them. You're thankful for him and his approach. He doesn't see you as your illness, rather a person with an illness that can come and go. He never puts limitations when you're feeling well unless you warn him otherwise. You swear Marvin is better than any doctor you've ever been to, since he recommends so many methods to ease your discomfort. He wants to stay well informed.

Frenchie wants to fix everything with food. It's how he shows his love. Especially if you have stomach issues, he'll stick to whatever diet or restrictions you need. He always some sort of extremely strong pain reliever that you only take when things get bad. He's always willing to listen to you and, of course, will accompany you to any doctors appointment. If you're in the hospital, he visits you every day. He makes it seem a lot less scary. Frenchie has a lot of pain from his scars and just life in general, so he completely understands when you're not up for something. He's extremely affectionate with his nicknames and never makes you feel bad for not being able to take part in missions. He loves nothing more than staying up and watching movies with you on especially painful days/nights. And he will defend you to anyone, especially friends and family, who say things like it's all in your head or it isn't that bad. Looooots of swearing at them in French, too.

Kimiko, like Frenchie, comes to your defense so fast is *almost* comical. Kimiko is signing angrily at ignorant doctors and friends who just don't understand, you or Frenchie translating for her. It really warms your heart. She is so gentle with you. She doesn't want to cause any more pain or harm than there already is. Whether it's a heating pad for your joints or a cool towel for your head, she places it so gently that you barely feel it. Kimiko loves the dark jokes you make about literally falling apart. It hurts her to see you in so much pain and discomfort. She asks you what it feels like so she can better understand. Because Kimiko heals so well, pain is different for her. She's always checking in with you, asking you how you're feeling. She doesn't make a big deal out of it, it's just regular small talk. You're thankful Kimiko makes it seem so normal whereas others would blow it out of proportion and make it this huge deal every time.