#just look at me. look at me. if i had to charge for that dice bag it would be more than the quill set he got me. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reiderwriter · 7 months ago

Text

Flirting with the FBI

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word count: 7.1k

Request: Hiiii!! This is my first time requesting anything on this app, but Spencer reid has me in a chokehold. So, I was thinking that the reader is the unsub, and she's like this very good hacker who keeps teasing the fbi cause she's bored or something so she keeps sending hints about who she is or where she is but they keep getting nothing on her. And all of this just keeps getting on Spencer's nerves. And so when Spencer finds her, she keeps teasing him and acting like a brat so he "disciplines" her and takes her roughly and maybe a bit of spanking???

Warnings: a lot tbh - mentions of case details, mentions of domestic violence and police brutality, reader is a possible target of a serial killer, bad tech skills from the writer who really couldn't be bothered to do anymore research than the actual CM writing team, rough Dom Spencer, brat reader, sexual innuendo, semi-public sexual play, spanking, dirty talk (good girl, brat etc.) fingering, raw sex/creampie, aftercare, slight dacryphilia (crying kink) and bimbofication.

A/N: My last fic was a heartwarming family fic, and now I'm back to being depraved. Apologies to anyone here for cute fluff 😭

Masterlist

You always thought hacking the FBI mainframe would be hard, but it's one of the easiest things you've done all week.

If they were going to sit around doing nothing while a serial killer ran around in their own backyard, then obviously, they needed a helping hand. Or a helping poem or two.

Getting into their security camera feed was just an added bonus.

You grabbed your bowl of popcorn and settled into your desk chair, clicking open the window to find which room exactly they would gather in to freak out together.

You made sure to get their attention, blacking out all the computers in the office as they ran to a backroom where a very distraught looking blonde woman was sat. She was evidently the go-to tech support of about six agents who quickly ran to her room to figure out what the issue was. It was show time.

“There once was a serial killer,

Who ate boys and girl both for his dinner,

He cut, diced and slashed,

Left the feds quite abashed,

So I leave this message to be clearer”

The poem scrolled onto their screen on a loop, flashing in and out quickly before you let the computer systems relax again.

You thought they'd panic, scramble for a pen or paper or something, but none of the agents moved until the flashing was over.

You watched curiously as an older man took charge of the scene, likely directing the woman at the desk to figure out who you were, where you lived, and what your social security number was. She got to work quickly, and he moved on to the other agents.

None of them had written the poem down. None had even taken a picture, but one man started talking, and for a while, all eyes and attention in the room were focused solely on him. His hands moved as his mouth did, as if he were casting a spell over the room as he spoke. Even more intriguing was the fact that he rarely seemed to make eye contact with any of them as he spoke. He wasn't conversing or giving directions. He was simply talking.

And you really wanted to listen in.

The younger man began to walk and you watched him quickly pace over to a whiteboard, switching from one feed to another as he made his way there, and pick up a pen before notating the poem perfectly.

Whoever this man was, he was making you feel more and more excited about the game of cat and mouse you had begun with the FBI. You weren't entirely sure if he was to be the cat or the mouse, though.

A few days later, they'd seemingly lost the motivation to work, so you again did their job for them.

With another accompanying limerick to help them along, of course.

“There once was a bullpen full of agents,

Who thought they were very surveillant,

But a simply code crack,

And there system did hack,

A young girl who lived quite adjacent.”

This time, you let the words linger on the screen longer, as you slipped your information into their files, leaving more bread crumbs they could follow to the real villain.

The Agent - Doctor, you had since learned - took up his pen once again and scribbled your first poem next to your most recent.

Doctor Spencer Reid. An IQ of 187, three PhDs and however many Bachelor's Degrees, a member of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, and, as you could somehow tell from the grainy security footage, incredibly attractive man.

He was calm, again talking with his hands as he notated, again drawing the rooms attention like he was the sun and everything needed to orbit him to sustain life. You wondered what it would be like to fluster him.

Typing something out quickly, you broke back into the FBI system. It was risky doing it again so soon again, knowing that their tech analyst was already actively hunting you down, cyber-wise. But you couldn't resist.

“The tall, dark and handsome employee,

How I do wish that he could enjoy me,

I would gladly submit,

we match wit for wit,

But he's trying his best to arrest me.”

The BAU team stood silent on the camera before the two women on the team burst into rambunctious laughter. The camera feed was archaic, black and white, and grainy to boot, but even you couldn't miss the red stain against Doctor Spencer Reid's cheeks. A bonus was the other gentlemen subtly posturing, trying to figure out exactly which of them was “tall, dark, and handsome.”

The payoff for that poem was so great that over the course of the next few days, you kept serenading him with love poems among your quick hints about the actual crime being committed.

You'd first suspected the man of being dangerous when you'd seen the state of his wife. 19 domestic disturbance calls in two months, 0 arrests, and 1 very cushy job as a police detective. You'd done some simple computer programming for your local precinct, inputting data from cases into an algorithm that helped track everything easier, so you'd been intimate with cases that he'd handled.

A pattern had emerged, a series of murders of “undesirables,” people the city didn't care about when alive and certainly didn't have the resources to allocate to after their deaths. Prostitutes, the homeless, and runaway foster kids. All missing or dead, all cases handled by the same officer. The officer that lived next door to you and was one beer away from beating his wife into submission 5 days a week.

After your third 911 call, you'd been notified of your contract termination with the precinct. After the tenth, you noticed parole cars driving by every hour.

By call number 19, you were sure it was a miracle he hadn't tried to have you arrested.

So you turned back to the FBI to see what they could do about a man who treated his wife, and basically everyone else, like scum of the earth.

“Please don't get sidetracked by my hacking,

I'm a good girl, your team I am backing,

the killer, you see,

Is right now hunting me,

You're the ones who can do better tracking.”

You watched the tension snap back into place in the office as, for the first time, Spencer Reid was silent at your message. They all got back to work quickly, going over the files you'd dropped in their servers.

That night, Spencer Reid stayed in the office late, reading through piles and piles of files and looking for the connection he needed. You watched in pity, feeling almost guilty that you'd placed this burden on him instead of just approaching them honestly. But you'd called the police before, and it hadn't worked, so getting attention anyway you could was the only way to go.

You watched for so long that you began noticing his small habits. Each time you sensed frustration, he would run a hand through his hair and tug it slightly. When he found something, he leaned in closer to the page, as if his proximity to the words would make them clearer. Finally, he stood and began clearing his files. But you weren't quite ready to sign off yet, the shouting already beginning in the apartment next to yours, so you quickly typed out the first thing that came to mind to get him to stay.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,

Who I simply and truly just need,

I would lie on my back,

And then let him attack,

Any inch of my body with his seed.”

He fumbled the files in his haste to remove your words from his screen, from every screen now in the building, face awash with embarrassment as he looked around for some sign that no one witnessed your words.

Luck was not to be had as the tech analyst - Penelope Garcia - came shooting out of her office to join him in the near empty bullpen, and the older team leader - Aaron Hotchner - also looked out over the bannister from his office as they bore witness to your seduction.

You were driving Spencer Reid crazy.

He'd spent the last two weeks tracking down a serial killer who may or may not exist based on the word of a set of limericks delivered to the BAU through illegal means that had begun unabashedly flirting with him.

This latest limerick was his last straw.

“The cameras are how I can see you,

I do find myself enjoying the view,

His hair is so fine,

I wish he was mine,

The agent with more PhDs than two.”

“Another score, pretty boy, it was about time someone noticed your good looks instead of your brain for once.” Morgan patted him on the shoulder, barely containing his glee and laughter.

“She's watching us through security feed, and that's all you have to say?” he grumbled, writing out this limerick again, the words to the others burned into his brain. “She's playing with me.”

“It sure sounds like she'd enjoy doing just that,” Emily laughed from her desk, “but I think she might be right, Spencer. Every case file she's given us has suspicious activity on it. They're all unsolved, but the victims aren't linked.”

“He's crossing race and gender boundaries, but he's hitting undesirables.”

They had a case because of you. It didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy handcuffing you and putting you in a cell once this was all finished.

“WE'VE GOT ANOTHER ONE,” Penelope shouted from her office, to no avail. If it was at one computer, it was on all of them.

“The agents grew closer by day,

As the killer wanted to escape,

He paced across the floor,

As I watched by his door,

Getting closer than the agents could say.”

He paused then for a second, thinking through each of the limericks in turn and the panic began.

“Closer than… Emily, the officer that took in all of the cases, what was his name?”

“Officer Falstaff, why?”

“I think he might be our killer. And I think he knows she's on to him, or if he doesn't, he will soon.” He stood suddenly, grabbing a file and sprinting to Penelope’s office, Emily and Morgan trailing close behind.

“Spencer, wait-”

“No time. If we want them both alive, we have to move now.”

Throwing the door to Penelope’s room open, he didn't even bother with niceties.

“Can you get her a message?” He demanded, panting from the short run.

“A wha-? Spencer, what are you talking about?”

“Can you send the hacker a message? Or leave her one so she can find it when she comes?”

Penelope swivelled around in her chair once again, doing who-knows-what to answer his question.

“There's no telling what she actually sees in our servers, Spencer, we didn't see any breach in classified files, the only thing she's done is read your personal file and drop us hints.”

His hands closed into fists as he nodded along. “So no?”

“No, Spencer, I'm sorry. Why? Are you starting to grow fond of our little helper.”

“She's not our little helper. She's a criminal. And she'll be dead soon if I don't confirm with her that we have the right guy - excuse me.”

The anger was washing over him now, as he left the room to get some air, getting only as far as the corridor before slamming an open palm into the wall and resting his forehead against it for a moment, just thinking.

The stress of the case was almost too much for him as he turned around and rested his back against the wall, sliding down it until he was sat on the floor. He may have despised you at that moment, but he didn't want you to get yourself killed.

Something nagged him, still, some stress or anger that hadn't yet surfaced, or some case fact he was missing. A glint at the corner of his eye had him looking up to the camera currently trained directly on him.

Computers are useless, he thought to himself, when you can send a letter.

The next time you sat down at your desk, you weren't exactly shocked to see an up close and personal shot of Aaron Hotchner - they'd turned your security stream into a one way facetime and you were sat directly opposite the big boss himself in an interrogation room.

“Checkmate, I guess,” you said, waiting for the man to move.

A signal from behind the camera let him know you were online and watching. He picked up a pen and paper and scribbled down something before holding the note out to you once more.

The name and location of the bastard next door. They'd done it, and now you simply had to drop your evidence, shut down your computer, and wait for the sirens to sound.

You felt slightly sad typing out your last message, knowing that you had no more reason to stay in touch with the team now. Still, you were only human and couldn't resist the chance to say something more.

“Aaron Hotchner and his clever team,

Working with you has been like a dream,

When Reid comes it is wet,

And my mind is all set,

Oh, I do wish that he'd make me cream.”

The camera turned seconds after your message was sent, and there he was, reading intently, frow creased in annoyance as he tried to remain calm. He, too, picked up a pen and paper.

“I have questions,” the paper said when he turned it around. Holding it up for a few seconds before returning his pen to paper. You typed out a message before he could finish dictating his, though.

“When you find me there's lots for me to say,

I can't help simply feeling this way,

Your profile I read,

Can't believe you're a Fed,

I yearn for you all night and day.”

Somehow, the lines between his brow deepened as he quickly scribbled out another message. This one wasn't a question, though. It was simply two words.

He'd written your name on that paper. He'd found you.

You weren't sure if the tingle that ran up your spine was fear or anticipation. One one hand, you'd likely committed multiple felonies in the pursuit of justice, and the SWAT team about to pick up the killer was going to knock for you, too. On the other hand, it was pretty much a given that you would be seeing Spencer Reid in person in the next few hours.

“The Doctor had finally cracked it,

The only identity that could fit,

The pretty young thing,

Who'd been flirting with him,

And was thinking of sitting on his…”

You sent a second message along with the first.

“I couldn't make this one rhyme, Doc. Come and get me.”

The sound of the FBI outside your neighbour's door had you stepping away from the computer finally. It was time to get ready to see him. You stepped out of your robe and into the shower as you waited to be collected and hauled into a police vehicle.

xxx

So far, you were a bit disappointed by the look of the BAU offices. It was smaller than it appeared on the CCTV, and you hadn't exactly given the tour. Unless the whole tour was the wall from the elevators, through the bullpen and straight to interrogation room one. You were also slightly embarrassed that you had yet to be greeted by any of your favourite characters yet. The lead swat officer had led you in some desk agents dropping by to have you fill out some simple documents - waiving your rights and all that. You'd seen not even a single member of the BAU since dropping in two hours ago, but you felt his eyes on you.

You faced the mirror, trying your best to stare straight through it and into the man beyond.

Spencer Reid was there. He had to be. He was too curious to be anywhere else. You smiled at him through the mirror and waited.

You were right, of course. Spencer stood on the opposite side of the one-way window and watched you look for him in every inch of the glass. He watched you squirm when you couldn't find anything, watched you pick at your nails as he made you wait.

He watched you cross and uncross your legs, the short skirt you'd slipped into just before you left providing just enough mystery to catch his eye and his breath.

He was annoyed, frustrated, a little bit impressed, anxious, and - to his peril - turned on.

“Spencer,” Hotch said, breaking the man's concentration. “We can't keep her that much longer. Go in and say something, or I'll cut her loose.”

Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away and stepped out of the waiting room before letting himself into yours.

“Miss Y/N, my name is Doctor Spencer Reid, I'm a profiler working with the Behavioural An-”

“You're joking, right?” You asked, eyes lighting up, spine straightening as you looked up at the man. “I know who you are, Doc.”

“Please call me Doctor Reid,” he asked, setting down a file on the table and looking over the desk at you.

“Oh, I don't even get your first name.” You lifted your leg and ran it along the side of his until he moved his chair back, just out of reach. You pouted as he began reading through documents, asking you to confirm exactly which technical breaches you were responsible for.

“And the breach at 1:27pm on Thursday 5th-”

“Yes, that was me, too. They were all me, Doc, is that all? Are we finished now?”

“I don't know, are we finished? Can I leave?”

“No,” you shouted, just as he stood up to gather his things. “No, don't go. I want to talk to you.”

He sat back down, finally looking at you instead of words on a page.

“Do you enjoy attention, Miss Y/N?” He asked, voice cold but gaze burning like fire into your skin.

“As much as anyone does.”

“Do you enjoy my attention?” The words hung between you for a few minutes as you watched him carefully, searching for the right answer.

“What do you think, Doc?”

“Doctor Spencer Reid,” he repeated reflexively.

“I know your name,” you smiled, and he finally looked away, breaking contact to regroup for a second.

“We have reason to believe you used your backdoor into our system to access my personal file, is that correct?” It may have been asked as a question, but Spencer Reid already knew the answer.

“Yes, I did.”

“Why?”

You laughed at the simple question, sure that your behaviour until this point was evidence enough to answer it.

“Why? Because you're attractive and your smart and-”

“Why haven't you used the content of the files as leverage? I've been digging at you for the last half hour, and you have plenty of ammunition to throw back at me, yet you haven't. Why?”

For the first time in a while, you were speechless.

“Oh. Wow. Should I have said something? Would you have felt more comfortable if I were a horrible person using your background to make you feel vulnerable?”

“Why, Y/N?”

You sighed and looked back up at him.

“I'm interested in you. That's it. Honestly, there is nothing in your file more interesting than how you look running your hands through your hair.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a sigh.

“So you're a compulsive liar.” He said it so finitely it was like a kick in the teeth.

“Or maybe you're just insecure. I can help with that.”

He shot you another warning look as a grin spread over your lips. Yes, it was very fun to mess with Spencer Reid.

“FBI Agents aren't allowed to sleep with suspects.”

“You want to sleep with me?”

His eyes went wide as he realized his mistake, mouth opening and closing as he tossed another annoyed look in your direction.

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Reid quickly bolted out of his seat as Aaron Hotchner entered. The two men shared a nod before the younger man left the room entirely.

“Such a shame, I thought we were really getting somewhere.”

To your surprise, Hotchner’s lips curled up in a laugh as he sat down, straightening his suit.

“Miss Y/N, we've reviewed the information you've given us and taken into account your motives, and the FBI has decided not to prosecute you for your actions.”

You sat for a minute, Hotch doing the same, the both of you caught waiting for each other to say something or continue.

“But?” You prodded, knowing there was more left to say.

“But, we'd ask for your cooperation on cases in the future that require technological man-power. In a consultancy role, of course. You wouldn't be given a badge or a gun or any clearance, and you'd need to be with an agent at all times.”

You tapped your fingers against the desk, trying to figure out if this deal was beneficial or not.

“I'll do it if I can pick the Agent.”

Now, the man was fully smiling at you or giving you what you assumed passed for a smile in his books.

“We had recommended Doctor Reid for the role. Of course, if you're more comfortable with another agent, you can-”

“Doctor Reid is perfect, thank you.”

The man nodded and stood, and you stood with him as he led you quietly out of the room.

A flustered Spencer Reid exited the adjoining room, hurrying to catch Hotch before he really signed his life away to you.

“Hotch, what is this?” He demanded, stopping the man in his tracks. They both paused, turning around and moved a few feet awaywfrom.you whispering out their argument.

You couldn't catch most of it, but you did happen to catch the phrases “man-eater,” “I'm not good with people,” and “Spencer, this will be good for you.” Victory in the end went to Hotch, who promptly turned on his heel and kept walking down the hall.

“I work here now,” you said, grinning up at Spencer.

“No, you don't.”

“According to your boss, I do. And you're my babysitter.”

“You're a criminal. You hacked into the FBI database to leave ominous clues to multiple murders.”

“If you call those ominous clues, I'm curious how people usually flirt with you.”

“They don't. Why…why are we having this conversation?”

He stormed off ahead of you, and you quickened your pace to catch up to him, following him down a familiar hallway to what was obviously tech central at the BAU.

“Spencer, seriously? You're walking around looking like that, and no one hits on you?”

He stopped abruptly, and you ran into his back before he turned around to scowl at you again.

“Can we keep this serious, please?”

“I'm very serious about flirting with you, and I'm stumped why more people aren't.”

“Okay, let's go somewhere and talk,” his hand landed on your waist, readying his grip to forcibly move you if need be.

“I thought that's what we were doing.” Instead of allowing him to move you, you leaned into his touch, stepping closer and raising a hand to his chest, as his head dipped to maintain eye contact.

“No, this isn't talking, this is some weird foreplay I've never heard of, and I'd like you to leave my office if you're going to continue,” the woman sat at the desk exclaimed, horror and amusement fighting a battle for her facial expressions. “I like to keep my office a no trauma zone, so please take a walk to the nearest bed or storage closet or car and you can shove your tongues down each other's throats in peace and out of my sight, please and thank you.”

Spencer tried to step away, but a hand on his tie kept him close and kept his eyes on you. You poked your head out around him and smiled at the other woman.

“Sorry to disturb you. I'm Y/N. Based on the tech, I assume we will be working with each other soon.”

“Oh my gosh, you were, like, my number one most hated person last week. Penelope Garcia, tech analyst.”

“I'm sorry about that. If it makes it any better, it was really hard to get past some of your firewalls. And I couldn't even touch the classified files.”

“Apology accepted, on the condition that you lead young Reid out of my office right now before he explodes.”

You grinned and grabbed the man's hand, sending Penelope a quick goodbye as you pulled him out of the room.

He stumbled behind you for a few moments before catching up and pulling you in a different direction, keeping your hands intertwined as he bee-lined for the elevators and pushed the button to go down.

It arrived, and he pulled you in, not releasing your grip until the doors were fully closed and you were alone.

“Getting me all alone, Doc? What do you have in mind?”

“I'm driving you home.”

“My apartment is a crime scene, and I have no family in the city.”

“What about friends?”

“I've been stalked by a homicidal police officer for the last month and barricaded myself into an apartment. Do you think I have friends?”

His gaze was somewhat softer as he looked at you again. You saw the math happening in his head as he tried to figure out what to do with you. You also saw his brain short circuiting when you wrapped yourself around his arm.

“We're friends now, Doc. Isn't that right?”

“What?”

“We're friends,” you repeated again, tone becoming a little defensive in a pout.

“We are not friends, Y/N. We've known each other for less than 6 hours, and we haven't engaged in any friendly conversation.”

“We've known each other for two weeks, and I've been more than friendly enough for the both of us.”

The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. Gesturing for you to go first, Spencer hurried you out of the elevator and into the parking garage.

“Trust me, Spencer, deep down, part of you really wants to be friends with me,” you said poking his chest with a finger. You couldn't resist flattening your hand against his surprisingly hard chest and letting the hand drop slightly.

“And an ever deeper down part of you doesn't want to be friends at all,” you smiled at him.

He caught your wrist before it could reach his belt buckle, your unconscious finish line, spinning you around and dragging you to his car.

The biting cold of metal cutting into your wrists was the first indication that maybe Spencer Reid wasn't as easy to mess with as you'd hoped. He closed the handcuffs around your wrists and handed you into the car as you gaped at him.

“Spencer!”

“Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“I’m not a criminal, Spencer, let me go.”

“I'll let you go when you prove to me you can behave.”

You pouted as he strapped you into the car and closed the door, walking around to the passenger side before letting himself in.

“What's next? Are you going to gag me?” You scoffed as he turned over the engine and began backing out of the parking lot.

“No. I think you'd enjoy that too much.”

The drive to Spencer's apartment was long and quiet as you sat pouting in the passenger seat. Every few seconds, you twisted and moved your arms, fidgeting left and right so he could see how much the restraints bothered you. Luckily, he'd handcuffed your hands in front of your body, so you still sat somewhat comfortably, but you didn't want him to know that.

He pulled up to the building and turned off the engine, pulling out his keys.

“Let's go,” he said, not even sparing you a look as he climbed out.

“Spencer, I'm handcuffed. How do I even get out?”

“You'll figure it out. You're a smart girl, right?”

He closed his door and began walking, and you quickly fumbled your way out.

“Spencer… Spencer, your neighbours are going to ask questions about you bringing a handcuffed girl into your apartment!” You whispered at him as you paced behind him, somehow running to catch up with his mere walk.

“I don't have neighbours like you, Y/N. They won't notice a thing.”

“Right, okay. And when you murder a dozen people over a six month period, they won't hack the federal government.” You rolled your eyes as he unlocked the door, taking your arm and finally handing you into the apartment.

It was dark and cold, and you shivered, feeling his body pushed in right behind yours, closing the door before he felt around for the light switch.

When the lights turned on, you blinked, adjusting to the light again as he walked you further into the apartment, hands on your hips as you slowly stumbled forward.

“Can you take the handcuffs off now?” You asked, looking over your shoulder at him.

“And let you touch my things? No.”

You shook off his hands and walked further into the room.

“You know I can still mess with your stuff with my hands tied up like this,” you said, walking to the nearest bookshelf.

“Whoops, look at that,” you said, pulling a book off the shelf and letting it fall to the floor between you with a thud.

“Y/N!” He exclaimed, voice pitched up in exasperation.

“Oh, this stack of books on the ground looks well organized. Oopsie!” You acted out tripping over the books, sending them flying in different directions.

“One more time, Y/N, mess with my stuff one more time-”

You didn't hear the words as you pulled yet another book off his shelf and let it tumble to the ground.

He was on you in seconds, lifting your wrists and pinning them to the top shelf, pressing his body against yours as he stretched you out.

You gasped at both the sudden contact and the tight grip he now had on your hands.

“Tell me, do you actually want to be in control, or do you just think you should want to be in control?”

“What's the difference?”

“The difference is how much you enjoy it. I think you're only being a brat to get a rise out of me. You're doing this because there's no one else in your life that will give you exactly what you crave."

"And what would that be?"

"Attention," he whispered into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Great, thanks for the therapy. Are you going to show me how much I can enjoy relinquishing control now?”

“Brat,” he spat at you.

“Fed,” you spat back.

“You have a problem with law enforcement?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear as you tried not to shiver again at his touch.

“My neighbour was a serial killer whose day job was police brutality," you said, as if the answer was obvious, but Spencer still stared, waiting for true confirmation.

“Yes I have a problem with law enforcement. What, are you going to spank me?”

His eyes lit up, and you suddenly wondered if you'd made a mistake.

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“N-No.” You stuttered, but he'd already begun moving you over to his couch.

“It was a joke. Spencer, it was a joke, don't-”

You underestimated his strength as he flipped you around and guided you down over his lap. Keeping your hips raised, he used one hand to hold you down while the other pushed up your tight skirt.

“S-Spencer, I really don't think-”

“Then don't think,” he said, bringing his hand down hard on your ass as you cried out in shock and pain.

“Stop thinking. You think too much, let me do it for you.”

With each hit, your shock grew fuzzy, melting into pleasure as you felt wetness pooling between your thighs.

The doctor you thought would be an easy target was not sadistically returning every teasing word back to you with his hands, letting bruises blossom all over your ass as he delivered painfully arousing strikes.

His hand stopped and he rubbed your ass as you twitched at the gentleness, panties sticking to the folds of your cunt as you absent mindedly pushed up into his touch.

“See, now you're listening,” he said, fingers trailing down to touch you over the sopping undergarments.

With two quick fingers, the crotch of your panties peeled away from your skin and he was plunged deep inside you, fingers pressing in as his thumb found its way to your clit.

“Fuck, Spencer-”

“Doctor Reid. You can use my full title now or you don't get to cum.”

“D-Doctor Reid, please!” His thumb rubbed slowly over your clit bit his fingers didn't move as you shuddered and contracted around them.

“Please what?” He asked, voice light as if he wasn't two knuckles deep in you already.

“Please make me cum, Doctor Reid!”

“Good manners,” he said as he finally began pumping his digits in and out of you, spreading your legs wider as you clawed your hands into his couch cushions to ground yourself in the moment. His spare hands left your wrists, and you felt them again, delivering small, almost cute hits to your ass as you twitched around his fingers, shying away from the painful contact.

“That's it, Y/N, let yourself relax,” he whispered, shifting his weight underneath you as you became aware of the tent in his pants.

Your brain was jello as you tried to bounce back on his fingers, chasing your oncoming orgasm.

“Look at you, trying to cum on my hands. You're just an attention-seeking slut, right?”

His fingers continued ppimg as your tongue hung loosely in your mouth.

“Answer me, or I'll leave you here high and dry, Y/N. Tell me you're an attention seeking slut that's been fingering yourself to the thought of this for weeks.”

“I-I'm an a-atten…tion seeking s-slut,” you stifled a moan and bit back tears as he pressed another finger inside of you. “Spencer I can't I need to cum,” you cried, tears spilling down your cheeks pathetically.

“Say it.”

“I'm an attention seeking s-slut that's been th-thinking about this-”

“Fingering yourself,” he corrected.

“Fingering myself to the thought of this for w-weeks,” you cried, sniffing now as your thighs shook in anticipation.

“What a nasty little slut,” he said as you finally came, your cum running down his fingers as he kept his hands moving.

Your tears were falling freely now as you bit back little sobs and chokes of emotions, the pleasure from the orgasm almost too much to handle.

Underneath you, Spencer shifted, freeing himself from his position and laying you fully down on the sofa as your legs still shook.

“There once was a doctor called Reid,” he said, unzipping his pants as he took up his place behind you.

They were your words, and your body signalled warnings everywhere as his hands pulled your hips up once more, pulling your knees up too to bend under you, laying you face down ass up.

“Who I simply and truly just need.”

He pulled the panties down to the crook of your knees before leaning down over you so he could deliver the next few lines as whispers into your ear.

“I would lie on my back, And then let him attack, Any inch of my body with his seed.”

A weak moan escaped your lips as he sank his cock inside of you, lips still pressed against your ears.

“I don't want you on your back, though. I much prefer you like this.”

His cock slid out of you and returned with a speed and strength that had your eyes rolling back in your head.

He was thick, maybe a little longer than average, and he filled you perfectly using your cum as lubricant.

“Such a good listener, now, Y/N. I like you like this,” he said with a moan, thrusting hard and deep inside of you.

You didn't talk. You could only drool and moan into his couch as he emptied your brain one thrust at a time.

You didn't think about how he wasn't wearing a condom. You didn't think about how he'd spat your words back at you, ready to fill you with his seed. You just sat in a pool of your own pleasure and let Spencer Reid use your body as you'd been begging him to for weeks.

He raised your hips and gave one last thrust, stilling there for a second as he filled your empty body and mind with his cum and his entire being.

If you weren't obsessed with Doctor Spencer Reid before this, you certainly were now.

He pulled out of you quickly, wiping his cock on your skirt before hurrying off to the bathroom to clean up.

Your brain was still absent when he returned, cleaning you off and finally removing the handcuffs. He removed your clothes, replacing them with his spares as he threw the soiled ones into the wash.

When you regained your wits or what was left of them, you were laid out in his bed, wrapped in a blanket and stuffed into a sweater and sweats, fully covered from head to toe. Spencer was picking up his keys and trying his shoelaces.

“Where are you going?’ You asked sleepily, stumbling to the doorway. Your legs were still shaky, and your movement was already limited. You knew that tomorrow, the use of your limbs would be nonexistent.

“Back to the office. Now that you're not around, maybe I'll be able to get some actual work done.”

“Spencer,” you said, forcing him to turn around to look back at you.

Before he could say anything else, you pressed your lips to his, hot and needy, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kissed back, slipping his tongue into your mouth and pressed you into the wall next to the door.

When you both pulled away for breath, you detangled your limbs, smoothing out his shirt and readjusting his tie.

He looked down at you, waiting for you to say something else as you met his gaze, grinning at him.

“I look forward to working with you, Doctor Reid.”

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #mgg #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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vivwritescrappythings · 5 months ago

Text

squeeze

tattoo artist!eddie munson x fem!afab!reader

Eddie is your tattoo artist and long term boyfriend, one night you have an idea of how to spice up your next tattoo session.

an: idk why I thought of this but I did

cw: fem and afab reader, needles, tattoos, unsanitary tattoo practices, don’t let anyone do this to you, p in v sex, cockwarming, masturbation, mild dubcon, mentions of marijuana use, i picture this version of eddie as older, masochism, swearing, dirty talk, not proofread.

wc: 2.3k

masterlist

MDNI

—

It was only after a few joints that you could have ever thought this was a marginally good idea. You and Eddie were well baked by the time you stumbled out of his van in the alley, eyes bloodshot and a wide smile on your face. The rest of the tattoo shop was dark as Eddie snuck you in the back door, the two of you giggling like vandals as though it wasn’t his shop. The keys jingled as he tucked them back into his pocket, nudging you toward his station.

He turned on the harsh fluorescent lamps surrounding the leather chair in the center of the small space. Paper screens separated it from the rest of the store, drawings and sketches stuck haphazardly all over the dividers and walls. “You’ve been drawing more,” you murmured, looking over the magnitude of new additions.

Eddie was already wiping down the chair and getting set up, looking over his shoulder at you with a hum of acknowledgment. You took in the way his shoulders filled out his worn Metallica shirt, his jacket hanging on a hook near the back door. There was something about his warm, chocolate-colored eyes that made your heart flutter every time he glanced at you.

“You gonna pick something out or just stare at me?” he asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes, a little too stoned to come up with a response you considered to be clever enough. The wall of flash tattoos beckoned you closer. Eddie had given you countless tattoos at that point, insisting that dating a tattoo artist meant you had to get all your work done by him.

Anyone else would just be cheating.

It was how the two of you met five years ago: you came into the shop with a crumpled piece of paper with a book quote you loved scrawled onto it looking to get your very first tattoo. Eddie had stolen you from the guy who usually took the walk-in clients with a saccharine smile, ushering you to his little sectioned off area and charging you half what he normally would for a tattoo that size. You left with fresh ink and Eddie’s number, and the rest was history.

You squinted up at dozens of drawings crudely taped to the wall, admiring the smooth linework and the variety. There were a few from his Hellfire days, fleshed out Dungeons & Dragons monsters and sets of dice high up near the ceiling. The rest were the typical subjects: skulls and flowers and doodles of food and ghosts.

It was hard to decide, your arms folding over your chest as you worried your lower lip with your teeth. Normally it was a quick decision, you’d pick something off the wall or had an idea of your own and Eddie would be off to the races.

That time it took Eddie pulling out the battered notebook he insisted he did his best work in, his name scratched into the black cover. “How about this one? Been workin’ on it, thought it would look good on you,” he murmured, flipping it open to a page in the middle.

The drawing was beautiful, detailed and delicate while still fitting with the rest of your tattoos. You realized that Eddie was listening when you told him you wanted to tattoo your sternum a few months ago, the pages littered in drawings that were suited to the smooth patch of skin over the bone. As always, he knew what you wanted more than you did.

“Yeah, it’s perfect,” you finally said, tracing it with your fingertip.

“Yeah? You sure?” Eddie asked, already rifling through drawers to put together a stencil.

You nodded, biting your lower lip as you sat back on the leather chair. “Matches everything else you’ve put on me,” you said, making yourself comfortable as he went off to trace out a stencil.

You fidgeted with the well-worn Corroded Coffin shirt you were wearing, running your fingers over the torn-up hem and looking up at the ceiling tiles Eddie had painted black.

Meeting Eddie must have been the luckiest moment of your life. You never thought that you’d find someone, for some reason you’d been convinced that you were beyond what anyone wanted—destined to be the old lady with the cats at the end of the street. But Eddie wanted you, he wanted you fiercely and with a passion that was almost startling sometimes.

“Alright, dove, shirt off,” Eddie said, startling you out of your thoughts. He rounded the corner with the stencil in hand, chocolatey eyes focused on you.

You complied, slipping the shirt off your head and tossing the fabric onto a nearby folding chair. The cold air in the shop made you shiver with just your pajama shorts on. You’d forgone wearing a bra, the trip to the tattoo parlor borne from a spontaneous idea you had in the living room of your shared apartment.

“Never gonna get tired of that,” Eddie mumbled, staring at your chest as you settled back onto the cold leather. You rolled your eyes as your face started to heat up, part of you wanting to cover your chest with your hands.

Eddie stood between your legs, rolling over the silver tray that held the little containers of ink and gloves and his machine. He’d already washed his hands, his fingers were cold as he shaved off the smattering of vellus hairs covering your skin. You squeaked when he wiped down your skin with an alcohol pad. His tongue poked out when he concentrated, his brow furrowed as he started to apply the stencil.

He pressed firm to get it to transfer, pulling the strip of paper away and reaching for a mirror for you to see it. It was weird to see yourself reflected back in the small hand mirror. You sat up to properly inspect how it looked between your tits, the U-shaped stretch marks between them catching and shining in the fluorescent light. The mirror tilted up, letting you see your own bloodshot, hazy gaze in the mirror. The blunts Eddie had rolled earlier were strong.

“Looks great, Eds,” you said, lips quirking into a grin as you settled back on the chair. Eddie hummed, letting the mirror drop with a clatter on his drawing space as he went to wash his hands again.

He came back ready, black latex gloves pulled over his hands and hair tied back in a low bun at the nape of his neck.

Bony hips knocked the insides of your thighs apart, your boyfriend curling down over you. “You still feeling up to the rest of this?” he asked, a brow lifting until it disappeared under his frizzy bangs. You were silent for a minute, taking in the sincerity of his expression. “You don’t have to if you’re not feeling right, dove. I can just do the tattoo and we can go home.”

You furrowed your brow, shaking your head and blurting out protests a little too eagerly. It made him grin, boyish charm returning to his stubble-ridden face as though he wasn’t a day out of high school.

“If you feel uncomfortable, what do you say?” Eddie prompted softly, leaning forward to nudge his nose against your temple. He didn’t touch you with his hands, keeping them sterile.

“Yoo-hoo,” you mumbled a little sheepishly. Eddie picked it, the safe word always made you roll your eyes.

He hummed sweetly, pressing a kiss just above your eyebrow. “That’s right,” Eddie said, the simple praise already making you feel warm.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him, watching him get the machine going and getting ink on the needles. It felt like your body was buzzing with anticipation, your knees squeezing at his waist.

“Help me out, can’t get my hands dirty,” Eddie said, twisting to fuss with something on the tray next to him. You didn’t care about what he was grabbing, only reaching forward to loop your fingers in the waistband of the sweatpants he was wearing. On a normal day he wouldn’t be caught dead here in sweatpants.

The original idea had come from you. Something in your stoned mind combined to make you ask Eddie if he’d ever thought about cockwarming while giving a tattoo. He looked at you like you’d grown a second head, but fifteen minutes later he wanted to bring your fantasy to life.

“Been so fucking hard ever since you brought this up,” Eddie hissed through his teeth as you pulled his sweatpants down over his cock. It slapped up against his stomach, the tip flushed red and already leaking. You swallowed thickly, reaching out to wrap your hand around him.

The soft moan coming from Eddie’s pink lips was gratifying in more ways than you expected, satisfaction making you feel warm as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“You want me to take my shorts off?” you asked quietly, tilting your head to one side. There was a thrill associated with being naked in the tattoo shop. Of course, it was the middle of the night as no one would have reason to be there, but it still felt scandalous all the same.

“Yeah,” he said, the harsh buzzing of the tattoo machine starting as he touched the needle to the ink. The sound was familiar to you now, part of you associating it with Eddie. “It’ll be complicated to do this if you leave them on.”

You rolled your eyes, letting go of him to strip yourself of your shorts. He cursed under his breath when he saw you completely naked on the chair. Brown eyes traveled over every curve and slope of your body, taking it all in with reverence as his tongue poked out to run over his bottom lip.

There was a brief pause, the two of you waiting for the other to do something. Eddie ended up taking charge.

“Play with yourself for me,” he mumbled, staring down at your cunt. His gloved fingers twitched. “Get her nice and wet.”

Your face heated up at his request, bashfulness binding your chest together for a moment. It was impossible not to comply with Eddie’s request, your fingers finding their place between your legs. You touched yourself without fanfare, your fingertips settling on either side of your clit and rubbing in tight circles.

His gaze was locked on your cunt, chin pressed to his chest and lips parted. Normally you would be embarrassed under that kind of focus, but the awe shining in Eddie’s eyes made your anxiety slip away.

Your movements were practiced and smooth, sending electricity up and down your spine. It was easy to get turned on, your breaths eventually becoming pants and wetness building up around your fingers. His jaw was clenching, you knew he wanted to pull your fingers away and touch you himself.

He huffed, swallowing hard before directing his gaze to your eyes. “Alright, let’s do this,” he said, stepping in closer between your legs. “Before I just decide to ruin my sterile environment and fuck you the right way.”

The idea was enticing, making you bite your lip as you considered. But you already came all the way down here and had the stencil placed and ink in the tattoo gun. And you wanted to make your fantasies happen.

You grabbed Eddie’s cock, your wet fingers smearing down the length of it. Of all the times you fucked, you almost never were the one to guide him inside of you. It was a bit clumsy as you dragged his tip through the soaked seam of your cunt, nudging against the swollen bud of your clit a few times.

Finally you hit your mark, Eddie’s deep moan filling the air as he slotted himself inside of you with a strong thrust. The patch of dark, soft curls at his base brushed against your already sensitive clit. The stretch made you see stars. Your head rolled back against the leather chair, a breathy whine pulling from you as he rubbed against every gummy ridge and gooey spot inside of you.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, brows pulling together as you looked up at him. He seemed to be going through a similar sense of euphoria, his long lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he breathed into the feeling.

His eyes open, pupils expanding like ink in water as he curled over you, readying the tattoo machine over your chest. He blinked hard, rutting softly against you once… twice… before steadying. The concentration was incredible to witness, his expression hardening and jaw flexing again.

“You ready, dove?” he asked, briefly glancing up at you before staring at the patch of stenciled skin like he could burn a tattoo into it with just his eyes.

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling like your entire body was made up of TV static as you willed yourself to relax on the chair.

He nodded, the familiar buzz of the tattoo gun starting again. It pressed to your skin like fire, the vibration carrying from the gun all the way down into the flat bone of your sternum. You held your breath without meaning to, toes curling.

Eddie groaned, a smile finding its way onto his face. “You’re squeezing so fucking tight around me,” he said, voice a bit raspier than normal.

You made a conscious effort to relax, staring up at the ceiling and tapping the tips of your fingers along the sides of the chair. “Sorry,” you murmured, a giggle echoing from you as Eddie resumed the line he was tattooing.

Each stab of the needles kept your body alight, teetering you on the edge of pain and pleasure. “You're such a masochist.”

You smiled, your gaze hazy and your pussy fluttering a bit as you took shallow breaths. “I know, it’s gonna be a long night.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #reader insert #eddie munson x afab!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #tattoo artist!eddie

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hgfictionwriter · 7 months ago

Text

Handy

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Sometimes you forget Jessie’s an engineer. A very thoughtful, but shy one at that. One who feels more comfortable renovating your apartment than telling you she likes you.

Warnings: No warnings.

A/N: I'm hearing some fluff is in order. Hope you all enjoy!

"Where do you want this?" Jessie asked as she stood holding a large box in the doorway to your new bedroom.

You looked over your shoulder and pointed to the walk-in closet. "Over there would be great. Thank you."

"No problem," Jessie replied as she walked over and set the box down. She looked around as she stood. "Are you doing anything with the shelving in here?"

"Oh yeah," you said as you got up and joined her. "I'm going to move these shelves up and add another set here to create more storage."

"Smart. That'll be good," Jessie affirmed as she scanned the space.

You tried not to stare, but her profile, curious eyes, and the way her baby hairs stuck to her face after several trips to and from the moving truck made it challenging.

"Hey, I think that's everything."

Both you and Jessie turned when Janine's voice filtered in from the bedroom, seeing Kelli standing beside her.

"Oh amazing. Thank you so much, all of you. I'm sure your coach would have my head if he knew you helped me move, but I'm very grateful. And hey - no injuries! Knock on wood. I guess you all still have to make it home in one piece," you joked.

"Anytime," Janine said as she crossed the room and gave you a hug. "The new digs look great. Condo ownership looks good on you."

You laughed. "Thank you. And it's even better when highly trained athletes do all the heavy lifting for you."

"No unpacking though," Kelli joked. "That's where I draw the line." You held up your hands in mock surrender.

"I can handle that part. Thank you. Next round of dinner and drinks are on me."

Once everyone left and you continued the tedious task of unpacking, your phone dinged with a text. You retrieved it to see Jessie's name on the screen.

"Hey. I hope unpacking is going well. I just wanted to say that if you need any help redoing your shelves I'm happy to swing by. I like projects like that."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth.

"Sometimes I forget you're an engineer. You've done so much as is - I already rolled the dice by getting you to help me move furniture and precariously packed boxes. I don’t want to push."

"I really don't mind! And setting up shelves is a lot less risky than holding the bottom end of the couch on the stairs while Kelli and Janine argue about how to angle it through a doorway."

You laughed recalling the scene in your mind. She had a point. Plus, spending some time alone, just the two of you, wouldn't be unwanted.

You'd met through Janine a few months back and had become friends in your own right since then, but it was still the norm that you typically only saw each other with Janine. This could be a nice change of pace. And, you know, if seeing her work in such a capacity would turn out to be eye candy - so be it.

"Alright. You've convinced me. When are you free? And please, please know that if you change your mind it's really not a problem at all. Please don't feel pressured or obliged."

"Excellent! Does next Sunday work for you? I'd say Saturday, but we have a game that afternoon."

"I'm aware lol. I'll be there, after all. Sunday sounds great."

"Right lol. Okay, Sunday it is! Let me know if you need me to pick anything up prior. I'm happy to."

"You're too sweet. See you then."

-----

"You brought your own drill set?" You asked with an amused smile. The blush on Jessie's face was immediate.

"Well, I didn't know what you had." Her voice rising in pitch. "And I have a spare battery. There's nothing worse mid-project than running out of a charge."

"Nothing," you mocked affectionately and she averted her gaze as her cheeks grew redder. You smiled at her and ushered her to the walk-in. "Okay, well, between the two of us I think we're all set. Let's get started."

It didn't take long for it to become Jessie leading and you helping. Going in, you felt you had a decent grasp of what to do, but as the work progressed, you realized how good it was that Jessie was here because she guided things with confidence and ease that you had to admit you probably wouldn't have had in her absence.

You were expecting this to be an all day venture, but with Jessie at the helm the work went by quickly and smoothly.

"Hand me that last shelf, please," she instructed calmly as she double-checked her work.

You were ready with it and handed it up to her. You watched in what you hoped was subtle appreciation as she set it in place.

She stood perched on the ladder, wearing her black hat and her shirt was tucked in. The tape measure was hooked onto her pocket and she wore a soft look of concentration on her face. When she took the shelf, her biceps popped as she lifted it and set it down on the brackets with ease. The pencil tucked behind her ear was the cherry on top.

Once she was confident the shelf was secure, she turned to you with a bright smile.

"All done! What do you think?"

"It's fantastic," you relayed, forcing yourself to refocus. And it was true. Not only was her workmanship thorough, but she'd tweaked a few things in your plan to optimize the setup even further. "Thank you so much. This is better than what I could've imagined. I owe you big time."

She shrugged and focused on her feet as she stepped down off the ladder. "No, it's all good. It was fun."

"Well, I really appreciate it. Truly," you went on, seeking eye contact, but she seemed to readily avoid it as she began cleaning up her tools. Eventually, she looked to you with a small smile.

"Don't mention it. Thanks for letting me help."

You rolled your eyes teasingly. "You're funny. Can I at least order us in some dinner and make you a drink or two?" You saw her begin to hesitate, a blush creeping up on her cheeks as she fidgeted. Early on, you would've immediately backed off, fearing you were making her truly uncomfortable, but by this point you knew she was just shy. And a bit skittish. You went on gently. "Consider it a small token of my appreciation."

She gave you a crooked smile as she distractedly readjusted her hat before seeming to catch herself and clasped both hands in front of her. "Okay, sure. That sounds good."

You two talked fairly late into the night and you noted how Jessie relaxed into the evening. Conversation was easy and naturally weaved from the light and fun to the more serious and heavy without getting uncomfortable or awkward. The night only came to an end because you had to work in the morning.

"Thank you again for all of your help," you told her as she stood at your front door, shoes, jacket and backpack on. "Not only does the closet look great, but it was a lot of fun - thanks to you. I can't help but think about projects half that serious that I've done with exes and they've turned into all out brawls. So, thank you."

Her posture straightened slightly and as she blushed with a nervous laugh. "Well, what can I say. We work well together." If you were right, the flush of her cheeks deepened. She averted her gaze, shuffling her feet a bit before she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and nodded over your shoulder.

"You said you were going to change out the lighting fixtures in the living room, right?" She asked. Her smile morphed into a smirk. "I mean, I'm not an electrical engineer, but a couple lighting fixtures is no big deal. I could come over next week and help with those."

You gave her a smirk of your own, unknowingly looking her up and down.

"If you'd really like to. I certainly won't stop you."

The easy confidence she was trying to channel a moment ago flickered before she gave you a nonchalant shrug.

"Sure. It's not a problem."

"Alright," you accepted. "I'm looking forward to it. Thanks again, and good night." You leaned forward and pulled her into a short hug - something you hadn't done before - and it seemed to catch her off-guard as she very belatedly put her hands up around you as you were already beginning to pull away, and even then, her movements were stiff and tentative. When you fully broke away her face was beet red.

"Okay." Her voice was high and tight. She gave you a quick, awkward wave before turning to leave. "Have a good night."

-----

The next weekend rolled around and Jessie was yet again up on a ladder in your new apartment. She tilted her head and frowned in concentration as she installed the last set of screws on your new lighting fixture.

"Okay, go ahead and turn the breaker back on," she told you as she stepped down and walked over to the light switch. You did as you were told.

"Okay, done."

The switch went on with a soft click and light filled the room. You watched her before looking up at the newly installed fixture. She smirked.

"Looks good," she said. “How do you like it?”

“It's brilliant. Thank you again. But what I’m really interested in is this,” you said as you closed the space between you two and grasped her hand, she tensed at the contact, but didn’t pull away. You lifted her hand to see the cut on her knuckle.

“I knew it. Let’s get you cleaned up,” you said and at that she pulled her hand back, hiding it behind her back.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but still,” you told her gently, noting the embarrassed look on her face. “Indulge me. Let me at least put a bandaid on it.”

She grumbled in contemplation but eventually conceded. You smiled to yourself at how her head jerked away when you glanced up from her hand to catch her staring at you.

When you finished placing the bandaid on her you released her hand and took a step back. You waited to catch her eye and spoke, “Make sure you clean that up more when you get home.”

Her cheeks grew pink and she rolled her eyes. You caught the hint of a smile on her lips though.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jessie stayed for dinner and a drink once more. Conversation flowed even easier, if that’s possible, than last time. You tried to hide the smile over how pleased you were by this since you and Jessie had been texting all week in between. It would've been understandable if you ran out of things to talk about by this point, but you didn’t - at all.

"I noticed there were a couple of dings in the drywall - probably from when we were moving stuff in. Probably Janine's doing - I'm much more conscientious," Jessie relayed with a facetious eye roll. "I could patch those up for you. I imagine the previous owners left some of the original paint or we could just get it paint matched."

You smirked at her from across the couch.

"You know, we could always just hang out - no reno job required. You don’t have to do something every time."

She blushed and took a sip of her drink.

"Oh, well, you know. I don’t mind."

"Well, how about we just hang out next time. If you are desperate to repair the drywall even after that, well, have at 'er. But maybe a work-free, normal hang out would be nice," you told her with a soft laugh. She nodded, blush fading as she returned your smile.

“Okay, that sounds like a plan." She swirled her drink, looking down at the churning liquid and speaking into it. "You could come over to my place? I could make us dinner. Or whatever." She finally mustered up the courage to look back up at you.

Now it was your turn to blush. You fiddled with your glass and offered her a hint of a smile. "Okay. That sounds nice."

————

“Whoa. That’s fancy,” Jessie commented as you set down a nice bottle of Chardonnay on her counter.

“Well, it’s my first time over. I had to break out the good stuff for you.”

Jessie grinned and retrieved a couple of glasses for you before setting down two plates of food on the kitchen table.

“This looks amazing,” you told her as you looked at the meal she prepared. “And I can’t help but think this just isn’t fair. You did all this free work for me and now you’ve made me dinner.”

“Was it free?” She squinted at you teasingly. “You had to listen to me babble on about metric versus imperial for a solid 20 minutes there.”

“I didn’t mind. I’d listen to that any day. I like hearing your facts and tidbits and about whatever you're interested in,” you assured her and she tried to conceal her smile. “How’d you become so handy anyway? I mean, I know you have this engineering background now, but still.”

She shrugged. “I liked helping my dad with projects around the house. Helping him build stuff. It was just always fascinating to me to see things come together like that and to know you did it with your own two hands.”

“That’s cute. And very sweet,” you told her as you took a bite. She dismissed your comment with a small wave of her fork.

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Well. I still think it’s cute. And I certainly reaped the rewards. Thank you again - seriously, for all of your help. You didn’t have to help me, and I really appreciate all the work you did.”

She took a sip of wine and peered at you over the glass, taking a moment to contemplate.

“There’s still that matter of the drywall,” she joked.

“You’re still on that, huh?” You said with a laugh. “What are we going to do when there are no projects left to work on?”

A faint blush began to form on Jessie’s face and she shuffled around in her chair a bit before taking a bite of food.

“There are always projects to be done. And if not, well, you’re the one who said we could hang out without a project to work on.”

You propped your elbow on the table and rest your chin in your open palm. “And the offer still stands. Clearly,” you gestured around her apartment. “If you’re interested.” Jessie dropped your gaze and flushed a deeper tone of pink.

“Yeah. I mean, we get along alright.”

You snickered a bit before taking a sip of your drink.

“What resounding affirmation," you said dryly and she shot you a bashful look. You smirked. "I guess it’s settled then.”

You polished off the bottle of wine that evening and your conversation carried you late into the night. You made a point of not checking the time and Jessie made no attempt to either. You had to work in the morning, but you just didn't care. You'd deal with the consequences later.

At some point though, an inevitable yawn escaped Jessie.

“Oh, I should let you get to sleep,” you offered, though not yet moving from your spot on the couch next to her. You were sitting across from one another and you were very aware of how if either of you shifted in a particular way, your legs would brush.

“No, it’s fine,” she dismissed. “I’ll get my second wind here in no time.” You chuckled and finally checked your phone. Your eyes went wide.

“Oh shit,” you laughed. “Well, I’ve worked off of less sleep before.”

“You didn’t tell me you were working,” she frowned at you. “Yeah, some clients are in from out of town. It’s okay, I wanted to hang out with you.” You reluctantly rose from the couch and she followed. “As much as I'm enjoying myself, I should go. I can get about 4 hours of sleep if there are no delays on the train.”

“You are not taking the train,” Jessie told you in the most stern voice you’d ever heard from her. It actually caught you off guard and you ignored the stirring in your chest at her display.

“Fine. An Uber,” you conceded.

“No. I’ll drive you,” she countered.

“Don’t be silly.” You waved her off. “You’re tired too and I’m not making you drive 30 minutes across town and back at this hour.”

“Then…I don't know, just spend the night.” She immediately held up her hands in defense. “Not like that. I just mean…it’s super late, getting home is going to be a pain. I’ll drive you home in the morning whenever you’re ready.”

“Jessie…” It was tempting. The logic wasn’t entirely bulletproof, but reasonable enough.

In the time you took to start contemplating, Jessie had run to the closet and started pulling out spare pillows and blankets. You looked at them when she returned and gave her a discerning look. You didn’t feel uncomfortable, you just didn’t want to intrude.

“I’ll take an Uber in the morning.” You told her and she gave you an easy smile as she began setting up the couch.

“I’ll drive you,” she repeated nonchalantly.

“Oh my god. You’re so stubborn,” you complained half-heartedly.

“Sometimes,” she admitted with a shrug as she went to her room for a few moments and came back out with a set of pyjamas.

“Don’t tell Janine. She’ll never let me hear the end of this,” you warned in mock petulance as you went to take the clothes from her. She pulled her fingers across her lips, feigning a zipping motion.

“She wouldn’t let me hear the end of it either, so I'd say we're now partners in crime,” she laughed, but held the clothes back from you. “These are mine. Yours are on the bed.”

“Huh?” You asked, giving her a blatant look of confusion.

“I’m sleeping out here. You take the bed,” she returned lightly and before you could retort she gently began to corral you towards her bedroom.

“Jessie.” You protested. “Are you nuts? I’m taking the couch.”

“Incorrect,” she refuted before giving you one final, soft push into the room. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She looked up at the ceiling, seeming to calculate something in her head. “6 am?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, still giving her a lingering look of disapproval. Before you could conjure a retort, she went on.

"This is my house, so what I say goes," she said rather haughtily, coupled with a subtle smirk. She was evidently very pleased with herself and her mannerisms had you too distracted, a small flutter echoing in your chest, so you let it be. You rolled your eyes.

“Fine. Okay. Well, if you change your mind - feel free to kick me out. Of your bedroom or the apartment - either is fine.”

“Now who’s nuts,” she quipped. Her light and easy demeanour wavered slightly as she paused in the doorway and ran a hand through her hair. “Um, well, bathroom’s through there. Help yourself to whatever. Good night.”

You were still in vague disbelief about how the last part of the night had unfolded as you lay in Jessie’s bed, wearing her clothes. Had you previously imagined being in Jessie’s bed? Yes. Did you imagine this? No. Certainly not.

All things considered, you slept pretty well. You didn't expect yourself to, so it was a surprise when your alarm went off. It took you a few moments for your mind to reconcile the unfamiliar surroundings, but you quickly came to. You sat up, the first rays of morning light illuminating the room and you observed them in a more lucid headspace than you had the night before.

The room was neat, organized, minimalistic in a way, but still had plenty of things that made it Jessie. A few framed photos of family and friends, her camera, a few, select books neatly displayed, some cute trinkets from her trips around the globe - no medals on display though. How typical.

A sound from the kitchen pulled you from your observations with a frown. You thought you were hearing things at first until you heard a few more faint sounds.

You quickly got changed and tentatively opened the bedroom door a crack to peer out. Not only was Jessie up already, she was in the middle of making breakfast. You opened the door the rest of the way with a puzzled look on your face. She turned to you with a smile.

"Morning! How did you sleep?"

"How long have you been up?" You asked instead. She glanced at her watch.

"I don't know. 30 minutes maybe? So, how did you sleep?" She repeated her inquiry.

"Shockingly well," you replied with a light laugh as you leaned on the kitchen counter and watched her work. "How about you? Miss I-insist-on-taking-the-couch."

She shot you a smirk over her shoulder as she scrambled the eggs in the frying pan. "I slept perfectly well, thank you," she relayed pointedly. "Coffee?" She asked.

"Please."

"Black, right?"

You smiled at her. "Yes, thank you. Can I do anything to help you?"

"Nope, just about done," she told you as she handed you a travel mug with steaming hot coffee. "For the road," she explained.

You watched Jessie as she turned back to the stove and continued making breakfast. For a split second, you pictured yourself as a couple in this moment. Easy mornings together, sharing breakfast and coffee, talking about your day ahead, kissing each other goodbye and going your separate ways until you came home to one another. You cleared your throat and shook out your head subtly as you came back to reality. You didn't want to get too far ahead of yourself.

You both ate a quick breakfast together, and took your toast and coffee to go. Jessie navigated through traffic on the way to your apartment. You scolded yourself internally for how you found something as simple as Jessie driving, attractive. Okay, maybe you really had it bad for her.

"I have to say, I feel like I'm 18 again or something," you joked. "Getting 4 hours of sleep, going through a whole bunch of hoops just to get to school - or work in this case - on time. It's ridiculous. But it was fun." You took a sip of your coffee. "I bet you were in bed by 10 every night in uni - minus late game nights, if that was a thing. But 8 hours of sleep, very responsible, all your readings and homework done."

Jessie shot you a mild glare.

"I've had some wild nights," she countered, not sounding entirely convincing, or even remotely, really. It endeared her to you more.

"Oh yeah, I bet you were a real bad girl," you teased. Jessie rolled her eyes.

"Oh, and like you were."

You sat primly and gave her a sly smirk. "Wouldn't you like to know."

You bantered back and forth the rest of the drive, and again, it felt like you were already something you were not. You found yourself lamenting your arrival as she pulled up to your building. Pushing aside your disappointment, you instead leaned over the middle console and gave Jessie a fleeting kiss on the cheek. She startled at the touch.

"Thanks for driving me. And for letting me spend the night. And for dinner," you frowned as you added things to the list. "I've gotta start pulling my weight here."

"No," she said in a strained voice, her cheeks flaring up as she glanced at you before her eyes darted away. She laughed nervously and scratched the back of her neck. "Don't mention it."

You gave her forearm a quick squeeze, a blush threatening to form on your own face at how firm the muscles were there, and stepped out of the car. You walked to your door, quickly strategizing if or when to turn back and wave when you heard her call out your name. You turned around with a puzzled look on your face.

"Uh, I could drive you to work? When you're ready?" She offered from the car through the now-open window. Her face burned impossibly brighter red. "It'll be faster than the bus."

You smiled openly at her.

"Oh, you're just spoiling me now." She smiled in return. "Well, who am I to say 'no'?" ------

A/N: Part Two is available here.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso #woso x reader #jflem #woso imagine #canwnt #portland thorns

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midnight-shadow-cafe · 26 days ago

Text

More Than Enough

Pairings: Eddie Munson X Plus Size!reader

Warnings: Smut, Spice, Angst, insecurities for being plus sized

Authors Note: I do relate to this a lot being a plus sized girl myself so I decided to make it with one of my favorite boys!

Word Count: 1.3k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The familiar warmth of Eddie Munson’s basement wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The soft glow from the mismatched lamps gave the room a cozy, intimate feel, casting long shadows across the table littered with dice, character sheets, and empty soda cans. It was the final session of the week’s D&D campaign, and though you loved every second of it, your mind wasn’t entirely in the game tonight. Every time you looked up, you found Eddie’s eyes on you—intense and playful, like he was always one step ahead, waiting for you to notice.

But behind the excitement of the game, something tugged at the back of your mind. As you leaned over to grab your dice, you tugged the edge of your shirt down a bit, feeling self-conscious about the way it hugged your body. The soft fabric clung to your curves in a way that made you hyper-aware of every extra inch, every dip and swell that you were never sure was attractive enough.

You tried to focus on the game, on the banter between Eddie and the other players, but your mind kept wandering. You’d always been the “big girl” in your group of friends. It wasn’t something you ever hid, but deep down, that quiet voice of insecurity whispered whenever you caught sight of yourself in the mirror or overheard other girls at school talking about their crushes. Eddie was different, though. He never treated you like you didn’t belong. In fact, sometimes it felt like he noticed you even more because of it, but you couldn’t quite believe that.

The session was wrapping up now, your sorceress character leading the charge in the final epic battle. You cast a massive fireball spell, decimating the Dark One, your hands trembling with excitement as the group cheered in unison. The adrenaline of the final encounter flooded your system, but even that couldn’t shake the feeling of self-consciousness that always seemed to linger beneath the surface.

“Great work tonight,” Eddie said, his voice casual but carrying that familiar edge of something deeper. “That last spell was killer.”

You gave him a small smile, but the insecurity gnawing at your insides made it hard to fully enjoy the praise. “Thanks. I just followed your lead, really.”

As the others packed up and started to leave, Eddie lingered, his eyes flicking back to you more often than usual. The air between you both felt heavier, charged with a tension that had been building for some time. You could feel it, and it seemed like Eddie was about to address it.

Once the door closed behind the last player, silence settled over the room. Eddie took a step closer, his posture more relaxed now, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. "You’ve been a little quiet tonight," he said, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "What’s going on?”

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. The urge to downplay your feelings tugged at you, but Eddie had this way of making you feel safe, like you could be yourself without judgment. "I don’t know… Sometimes, I just don’t feel like I fit in. Like, not really. I’m not like the other girls, and it’s hard not to think about."

Eddie stepped closer, his fingers tracing the back of your hand as he crouched down to your level. “What do you mean?” he asked softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours. His thumb gently grazed your knuckles as if grounding you in the moment.

“I mean… look at me,” you said, voice tinged with hesitation. “I don’t exactly look like the girls you usually see around school, the kind guys are into.”

Eddie shook his head, his expression turning more serious. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” he said quietly. “Look, I’ve seen you around those people, and I see you. You stand out in all the right ways.”

His hand slid from yours, and before you knew it, he was sitting beside you on the couch, his knee brushing yours, sending a spark of warmth through your skin. “I notice you, and not just because of your confidence in the game or your laugh,” he continued, his voice low, “but because you’re real. You’re not like those girls—you’re better. Your curves, your strength... You have no idea how much I love that.”

Your heart pounded as his words sunk in, disbelief and hope battling in your chest. You felt seen in a way you never had before.

“Come here,” Eddie murmured, his voice dipping as he leaned in closer, his eyes dark with sincerity. His hand found your waist, fingers grazing the curve of your hip as if testing the waters. The moment felt electric, his touch making your skin tingle with warmth.

You hesitated for a beat before allowing yourself to lean into his touch, your breath hitching as Eddie’s hand slid up the small of your back, pulling you closer. His lips hovered near your ear, his breath warm against your neck. “You’re more than enough,” he whispered, and those words felt like a balm to the insecurity that had taken root deep inside you for so long.

Your hands moved on their own, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him into a kiss. It was slow at first, a tentative brush of lips, but the moment his lips touched yours, all the built-up tension between you both melted away.

Eddie deepened the kiss, his fingers threading into your hair as he angled your head for better access. His free hand gently explored the curves of your body, never rushing, as if he wanted to take his time feeling every inch. You could feel his appreciation in every stroke, every caress, the way his fingers seemed to linger on your soft curves as though they were something he adored.

You gasped softly into the kiss as Eddie’s hand slid under your shirt, his fingers trailing up your sides, grazing your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. The touch wasn’t rushed or aggressive—it was careful, deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed against your lips, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with desire but filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. His words weren’t just sweet nothings—they were truths spoken as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “Every part of you.”

Your breath hitched, your insecurities momentarily forgotten as Eddie’s hands roamed, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t get enough. You felt the heat between you building, your body responding to his touches, but more than that, you felt a sense of acceptance. A sense of being wanted, exactly as you were.

Eddie’s hands continued their slow, appreciative exploration, his lips finding the sensitive spot just below your jaw as you leaned back against the couch. You shivered under his touch, your body alight with sensation, but what struck you the most was how cherished you felt in this moment.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Eddie whispered against your skin, his voice low and gravelly with need. “Wanted you.”

Your response was lost in another kiss, more urgent now as your hands roamed over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the strength beneath his shirt. The closeness between you both felt intoxicating, each touch fanning the flames of desire that had been simmering between you for weeks.

As Eddie’s hand slid further up, his fingers grazing the soft swell of your chest, he paused for a moment, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was intense, but there was a question in his eyes, a silent ask for permission. You nodded, breathless, and his hand moved again, cupping your chest with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, and in that moment, you believed him.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

#x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #plus size reader #x plus size reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #x you #x you fluff #x you smut #joseph quinn x you #eddie munson x you

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piastree · 10 months ago

Text

Take a Chance with Me | OP81

oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)

— Part 2

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary : They are a couple caught in the chaos of a love filled with randomness and quirks. Their relationship is marked by funny and unpredictable moments, where each day feels like a new adventure. Despite frequently engaging in amusing and spirited bickering, beneath the banter lies a deep and meaningful romance. noted: idk i decided to make the part 2 haha. Enjoyyy!!<3

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tagged oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 15,397 others

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oscarpiastri liked the comments

user OMGGGG I LOVE HER

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yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, mclaren, and 20,987 others

yourusername on duty🏁🏎️

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mclaren oscar's serotonin booster💪🧡

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yourusername the luck just took a vacation for today :(

oscarpiastri

liked by mclaren, yourusername, landonorris, and 80,987 others

oscarpiastri Gracias México 🇲🇽 Not the Sunday we planned but more points on the board. Onwards to 🇧🇷

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mclaren Let’s go after it again in Brazil! 👊

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 20,997 others

yourusername farewell to the my ginger hair era

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user MARRY ME Y/N

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oscarpiastri lost in ur beauty

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twitter

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liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername, landonorris and 119,992 others

oscarpiastri Rolled the dice and bagged some points 🎲 Vegas, you were fun!

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user and bagged fastest lap🙌🏼🧡

user bad strategy but incredible pace

user A BIG THANKYOU Y/N FOR GIVING MY GIFT TO OSCAR!! YOU ARE TRULY AMAZINGGG<3 @/yourusername

user aww she's the kindest

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user wishing lando a speedy recovery❤️🙏

oscarpiastri liked the comments

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, alexalbon, oscapiastri and 39,152 others

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I don't know why I wrote part 2 but I enjoyed writing this, I hope you also enjoy reading this

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri au #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau

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cuubism · 3 months ago

Text

tagged by @the-apocrypha, @magnusbae, @valiantstarlights in last line tag game 🥰

from Complex Math elopement chapter. they just got engaged and now they're killing time before the registrar's office opens trying unsuccessfully to make pasta in the middle of the night

“You don’t have any champagne, do you?”

“Death has vodka in the kitchen,” Dream says. “She says she buys it for cooking, but the rate at which she makes penne alla vodka does not match the rate at which the vodka is depleted.”

“Look at you, deductive mathematician,” Hob says, grinning. “Well, vodka shots it is. Unless you wanted to use it for its intended purpose and cook something?”

“We have the ingredients,” Dream realizes.

“Good! I’m hungry. Come on.” Hob takes Dream’s hand and drags him out of bed. Dream is helpless to do anything but follow him; he doesn’t care what they do with their time, he just wants to be around Hob.

Half-dressed in mismatched clothes, they wind up in the kitchen. Dream’s efforts at quieting Hob’s mind have evidently been completing unsuccessful, because Hob immediately starts pulling ingredients out of everywhere and laying them out on the counter in an unorganized mess. How Hob even manages to function while cooking, Dream doesn’t know, but somehow the result is always tasty, which Dream can never manage.

“You’re in charge of sauce ‘cuz I know you won’t want to get the pasta dough on your hands,” Hob says, setting a pan on the stove and passing him tomato sauce, onion, garlic, and several other ingredients Dream doesn’t immediately clock as he gathers them in his arms. It’s possible Death had all these ingredients on hand because she intended to cook this exact meal later in the week… Dream will have to make it up to her.

“You intend to make pasta by hand?” Dream asks.

Hob is already laying out flour on the countertop. Dream gets briefly distracted watching his hands. “Why not? We’ve got ten hours.”

Dream supposes neither of them would be able to sleep tonight anyway. And he is getting hungry.

He watches Hob crack an egg into the center of the flour, and decides it was good indeed that Hob handed him the other ingredients instead. Even the enjoyment of being able to look at Hob’s forearms as he kneads the dough can’t override the visual squish of the egg. Dream decidedly looks away.

There is, in fact, a recipe, which Hob’s laid out between them on the counter, so Dream starts trying to follow its instructions in terms of cooking the sauce. He is not so good at cooking. He is used to determining his own rules and procedures, not following instructions. But he dutifully starts trying to dice an onion.

By the time he has the sauce simmering, Hob has the dough partly mixed, which is to say he’s covered in flour and has sticky egg mixture up to the elbow. Dream can’t help but laugh at the sight of him.

“Dream,” Hob whines. “Don’t just stand there and laugh. Help me!”

“It was your idea,” Dream reminds him.

Hob yelps as a dribble of egg escapes the containment of the flour and starts sliding towards the counter edge. “Dream! Marriage is about teamwork!”

Dream pours out some more flour, creating a wall between the egg and the edge of the counter. Hob scoops it all in towards itself and starts kneading again. “How are you going to shape that into penne?” Dream asks.

“I don’t know. Don’t you know I have mainly bad ideas?”

Dream leans against Hob’s back, hooking his chin over his shoulder to watch. “You do not have mainly bad ideas. This, however, might be one.”

“Thanks for the support.”

Dream kisses the side of Hob’s neck, smiling to himself. “I will fetch you a rolling pin.”

Eventually, as Dream works on finishing up the sauce, Hob gets the pasta dough rolled out into a flat rectangle. He studies it critically, hands on hips. “This might have been too much.”

“It will make approximately one hundred and thirty-two penne noodles,” Dream says.

“‘Approximately’ one hundred thirty-two? How do you figure that?”

“A penne noodle is a cylindrical concave hexagon. It's a simple matter of determining the area of the hexagon, then how many hexagons fit within the area of the pasta sheet,” Dream says. “Of course, you have to take into consideration the fact that the edges of the sheet would create partial shapes.”

Hob rubs his forehead. “This is what I get for dating a maths student.” He’s grinning underneath it all, though. “Alright, how many linguine can I make out of it? Because I’m thinking about the effort involved in penne and I’m rapidly losing interest.”

“Approximately eighty-seven linguine.”

“Okay, do you think you can eat forty-three and a half linguine?”

“I don’t know.”

Hob starts cutting the dough anyway. They don’t have a pasta roller, so he’s just winging it with a pizza cutter. Dream is feeling increasingly dubious about how all this will turn out, but Hob seems to be enjoying himself which is entertaining to watch.

“How’s the sauce coming along?” Hob asks.

“Fine.”

Hob sets aside the pasta temporarily to taste a spoonful of sauce.

He immediately chokes. “How much—” he coughs, spluttering, “Dream, how much vodka did you put in that?”

Dream frowns, looking at the recipe. “It says ‘4’.”

“Four what?”

“Cup.”

“Four CUPS? You put FOUR CUPS of vodka in it??”

It hadn’t struck Dream as strange, but then, he doesn’t usually drink vodka—or cook—so what would he know.

Hob takes the recipe, squints. “I think it’s supposed to be a quarter cup but the one is faded… Jesus Christ.” He takes another spoonful of sauce and holds it to Dream’s mouth. “Try.”

Dutifully, Dream tries the sauce. It is… Well. It’s vodka.

His face must twist, for Hob starts laughing. Dream starts laughing, too. It really is awful. It will pair well with the linguine.

“We’ll just have to let it simmer for a while, the alcohol will burn off eventually. Mostly. Don’t add the cream yet. And you know what, give me that.” He takes the bottle of vodka, almost empty now, pours a shot and tosses it back. He shakes himself. “Jesus Christ.”

“You should have known you’d be doing all the cooking from now on,” Dream tells him. “I don’t intend to learn.” He’s simply had to accept the fact that it’s not in his skill set. Particularly as he doesn’t tend to eat much in the first place.

“You intend to let me spoil you.” Hob steps in close, taking Dream’s hips in his hands—fortunately now merely lightly dusted with flour—and bringing him in close. He leans his face against Dream’s, their noses brushing. “And I will.”

Dream:

tagging @five-and-dimes, @dsudis, @hardly-an-escape

#the adventures of Adhd Boyfriend and Guy Always Quizzing You on High School Geometry #dream could figure out how many noodles there are but couldn't deduce that '4 cups' was probably wrong. that's why he is the way he is #dreamling #complex mathematics #trying to reclaim the joy in writing by doing silly self indulgent scenes...

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colealexart · 1 year ago

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story time! i met the cr cast this past weekend at mcm london and they were the kindest people imaginable, but my interaction with laura and marisha was just. incomprehensibly sweet and the best thing to ever happen to me.

first up was laura. my friends izzy (@wvearp) and abby (@overnighttosunflowers) went before me in the queue and they got my art signed by her. when they did, she said “oh, best art” and they told her that they were here with the artist. she immediately was like “what?! where?!” and started looking around frantically. i was standing just to the side and i waved awkwardly and she was like “NO WAY! YOU!! i favourite this shit on twitter ALL THE TIME!” which i find hilarious because yeah, i freak out a little every time she does.

when it got to my turn, i said hello and asked her how she was doing. she did not answer my question and instead said “cole, are you kidding me? these are gorgeous” about the two prints i handed to her. (the one pictured and a different one i got signed.) she said she remembers seeing this after the episode aired and i was like “yeah, it airs at 3am here so i drew this in a frantic, sleep deprived stupor at 7am” and she said “you did it so fast, i remember! i sent it to marisha! people are SO QUICK with the fanart, you guys are insane.”

after she signed the print, she held onto it for a moment and just sat and admired it, before looking at me with the BIGGEST smile and saying “you are seriously the best. thank you.” and i don’t know how to handle sincerity so i handed her the dice i got for her. she was so excited about them and immediately rolled the d20 and got a 10 (edit: i misremembered, she got a 3 lol). i then asked if we could play rollies and she beat me. i got a 5 and laura got a 7. i said i’m sorry they’re not rolling well and she was like “it’s fine, they just need charging up!”

i also got a selfie too, but the guy helping her at the table took the photo for us instead of me trying to take it because i suck at taking selfies. she gave me a really tight side hug and when it was done, she thanked me again with the biggest smile.

i also didnt realize until afterwards but instead of writing a character quote, laura wrote “you are everything” on my autograph 😭

next was the group photo op. as we walked up i said hi again to laura and she immediately recognized me from before. she grabbed onto my shoulders and literally spun me around to marisha and was frantically saying “marisha marisha, this is the person that does the amazing imodna art!” but there was a lot going on and marisha was looking at me with the most bewildered expression, until she eventually understood what laura was saying but we had to rush to take the photo. laura held onto my arm and marisha leaned against me and i didn’t realize until afterwards but liam and tal also had their hands on my shoulders lol. it was A Lot. i told marisha i would probably be heading to her autograph queue next so i’d see her there and she was like “awesome, i cant wait!”

so after that, i met marisha. i was probably the most nervous to meet her because she’s just so cool and intimidating but in reality she is just so warm and has such a calming presence about her. she was like “cole, good to see you again!” and i handed her the same imodna print that i had laura sign. she said “ohh, aww this is amazing! this is what laura was talking about, i was so confused!”

then we talked a bit about the live show because her voice was hoarse and i asked her how she was feeling. she said it was just her voice that was gone, but we agreed that it was absolutely worth it because the live show was incredible. i also congratulated her on the how do you wanna do this, then gave her the dice i got for her and we played rollies too. we both got an 18 at first and when we rerolled, she beat me with another 18 to my 16. then she was like “oh these roll really well, i’m definitely gonna use these!”

we took our photo together and afterwards she said “thank you for your art and everything. seriously, you’re so talented” while rubbing my shoulder, and then i headed off to join ashley’s queue.

i’m probably gonna make a separate post about meeting ashley and sam. i just wanted to write this down mostly to immortalize on my blog. i expected them to be kind but i did NOT expect to feel so loved and appreciated. laura was about as excited as i was, and made me feel so special. (this is also a pretty small thing but i dont think i pass very well, so the fact that laura said ‘person’ and didn’t misgender me meant a hell of a lot too.)

i did bring extra prints to give to them as a gift but was overwhelmed and forgot lol

anyway, that’s it! for anyone wondering if the critical role cast are as kind in person as they seem online, they absolutely are and then some. i’ll never forget this past week.

#laura bailey #marisha ray #critical role #imodna #yes i cried a little while writing this out #they just make me so HAPPY

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1d1195 · 7 months ago

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Dolcezza Extra I

Read Dolcezza here | ~4.7k words

From me: this is something I’ve never done before: an alternate idea to something I've already written. I will be copying and pasting parts to keep the continuity but I hope you like it. It was pretty fun. The first couple paragraphs are from the original part. I’m sure you can all follow without me telling you all this. Have fun!

Warnings: stalking, scary (?) Also, no clue what kinds of protocols are supposed to be in place for this sort of thing. I don't think it makes a lot of sense logistically or law-wise. But that's not what we're here for, right?! I wanted it to kind of go right in the middle of Part 8, like starts in the beginning-ish part of it and end essentially in the same way.

It was one of those nights where everything was going wrong, and everything was too busy. Antonio was caring for Leo, the baby, and the missus—all sick with something Leo brought home from preschool, so Harry and Niall were left in charge. Normally, the sweet girl found her way down and situate herself at a station doing the takeout orders but given the little... spat (what else could he call it?) she seemed to be avoiding him.

His phone began vibrating in his pocket without pause for three full minutes, but he literally hadn’t a second to look at it. All he wanted was for the pretty girl to appear. He wanted to apologize profusely for overstepping. He just cared for her so much. Even if she wasn’t comfortable with how he handled things, he wanted to make it better. He cared so deeply for her it hurt to be apart from her without so much as a text message between them over the last two days. He managed to see her exit a car that wasn’t hers parked in her spot. At least her car was getting fixed. But he imagined she had another busy Friday and Saturday. He wished he could have helped more. Wished he didn’t mess up and revealed that he messed it up in a way he couldn’t fix it.

The moment the orders slowed, Harry was planning to race up her steps and beg for forgiveness.

Harry dropped a knife for the third time on the same onion he had been trying to dice for the last five minutes. He growled to himself, snagged it off the floor (nearly slicing his hand from his anger overtaking rational thought to pick it up by the handle), and all but tossed it in the sink.

“Why not just talk to her?” Niall muttered across the way.

“Shut up,” he snapped, bitterness coating his voice. Niall raised his eyebrows at him and shook his head. He turned the other way, turned his attention to the soup he was pouring into bowls. “M’going to,” he mumbled grabbing a clean knife as he started chopping again. “Sorry.”

He nodded. “It’s alright. Just thinking we could really use her help,” Niall smirked.

Harry snorted. “Y’could probably ask her,” he mumbled. “She’d come running t’help m’sure.”

“Yeah, but it defeats your whole she’s spreading herself too thin. And then I’m no different than rest, huh?”

Harry sighed, grateful for his understanding. “You’re a really good friend, Niall.”

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed. It was infectious. Hard to keep Harry in a bad mood and he prayed to God the orders slowed soon so he could run up and beg her to come help Niall and him because as much as he didn’t want to ask her for another thing, working with her on busy nights were some of his favorite moments.

Harry’s phone was still vibrating. He wondered if he set a timer for something and it was just going off continuously. “M’phone’s been ringing nonstop.”

“Mum?” Niall asked.

“No... she knows m’at work. Plus, she’d call the restaurant if it was an emergency. I gave her the number.”

“S’probably an alarm, yeah?”

“Yeah... probably.”

“Oh, she’s here,” Niall mumbled his gaze narrowing at the slip of paper in his hand. “Eggplant and two times the extra garlic bread…” Niall waved the ticket out like he always did when they realized the arrival of Harry’s Principessa.

Well, at least Harry wouldn’t have to sprint upstairs to apologize. Still, it was odd she didn’t make herself known when she got there even if they weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Harry glanced toward the window for a peek to see if she was there, but he was too far away. “Niall did you see her?” He asked.

“No…” his voice was low, over the bustle of the few staff that were in the kitchen, Harry hardly heard him. Like he was piecing a puzzle together. He was studying the slip. Like it would give him the hint.

“See who?” The hostess asked. She was grabbing a take-out order off the counter that Niall had just finished packaging. Niall slid the ticket into the holder still examining it.

“Principessa,” Niall mumbled. “She always orders extra garlic bread with her eggplant.”

“Oh yeah she’s here with her brother or something,” Antonio’s nephew, Matteo, jumped right into the conversation as he brought back empty plates from the dining room.

Harry’s head snapped up from the veggies he was cutting and tossing into a pot to make a sauce. “Brother...?” Harry didn’t think that made sense at all. He remembered seeing “James groceries” on her calendar while he cleaned earlier in the week. It was always done on a day when James had to work in the evening so there was no way he would have come all the way out here for dinner. Still, he thought Harry would have known if James was here—between his protective brother streak or even just saying hello and thank you for the food. Harry thought she would bring him right back here to the kitchen and make herself at home.

But maybe Harry misread it. Or maybe James finally suspected she was tired and strung out and was taking a step to help with his kind older sister.

“Well, it’s not dinner with you; so, who else would it be?” Matteo reminded them with a shrug.

Niall gasped dropping the plate he was holding, and it shattered to the ground. Everyone stopped to look at him and he grabbed the ticket once more. Like it finally revealed the missing clue. At the same time Harry dropped the fourth knife he was using because if Matteo hadn’t said “who else would it be” they might not have put it together right then.

Harry hurried to the window and searched. “Where’s she sitting?” His voice was hurried. There was a one second pause. “Matteo, now!”

“Corner, near the door. What’s—”

“Niall...” Harry’s body felt weak and shaky. His blood was hot and boiling immediately. His vision was getting blurry at the edges, and he had never felt so close to throwing up in his whole life. Not even when he had the flu in university.

Why was his phone vibrating still?

“Oh no,” he murmured reaching for the phone in his pocket.

“Shit!” Niall hissed looking at the direction of the man sitting across from the pretty girl all the way across the restaurant.

Harry slid his thumb across his phone without taking his eyes off the table across the main room. The weakness he felt ached through every inch in his body. “Eleanor, I—”

He yanked the phone away from his ear as she responded, loudly, shouting. “Harry! For the love of GOD! Do you never look at your phone!? Why do you even have one!?”

Harry felt sicker at the accusation. How could he not look at his phone? “El—”

“Harry it’s bad,” Eleanor sobbed, barely getting the words out. Harry could hear Louis shushing her as best he could. “It’s really bad.”

It was every one of Harry’s worst nightmares.

She was trying to process why the door was open. She quietly stepped back from her own door, but she wasn’t in control of her own body. Her heart was beating a little faster than normal. Her brain tried to reason with her muscles that there had to be a reasonable explanation. Instead, her muscles continued moving; she pressed the volume button on her phone to turn Eleanor’s voice down even though she continued rambling about how Harry adored her, and she was pretty sure he was in love with her too.

Not even the idea of Harry loving her could shake the nerves away.

“El... Eleanor,” she whispered listening intently to Antonio’s office door distinctly closing and three foreboding footsteps reaching her door. The clinking metallic sound of someone fiddling with the lock on her door came next. She had the phone pressed to her lips trying to soundlessly alert Eleanor as best she could as she scurried backwards as if the door was on fire. “El! STOP!” She hissed listening for more sound.

“What?” She could hear the eye roll in her friend’s voice. “You have to confront these emotions Harry is—” There was a low voice cursing outside her door as the lock was fiddled with more and she stepped back as the door opened. Her jaw dropped along with her phone smacking to the ground. She could faintly hear Eleanor calling at the sound of the noise.

The man before her smiled excitedly, relieved. “You’re home. I knew I’d find you,” he sighed with relief reaching for her. Instinctively she took a step back, it took every ounce of her self-control to keep from throwing up all over herself or the not-so-stranger. “I’m so glad I’ve found you; I missed you so much.”

Her heart was pounding erratically. Her only saving grace was knowing Eleanor heard. She reached for her phone. Autopilot. Grab the phone that clattered to the floor.

He kicked it out of the way. “You don’t need that,” he assured her with an easy smile. She straightened; cleared her throat.

“I…don’t?” She whispered. She should have spoken louder so Eleanor could hear. Of course, she loved her apartment, and she loved Antonio and the little family he invited her to be part of that was Dolcezza. Right then, however, she wanted to cry that her apartment was soundproofed beyond auditorial recognition. Her eyes dropped to the fabric in his hand. She swallowed the bile that continued rising in her throat while he looked at her as if he had known her his whole life.

“No,” he shook his head.

Her mind wasn’t working. She was exhausted and terrified and poor Eleanor was screaming from the other end of the line. He grabbed the phone. “Hi Eleanor,” he said simply. “She’s okay. We’re going on a trip, she’ll be safe with me,” he assured her.

Then he left her phone on the side table. Hanging up and leaving it there. It started to vibrate immediately; Eleanor desperate to hear her answer again. Instead, he ignored it, held his hand out for her to take. “I need my stuff—” she stepped toward her bedroom, but he grabbed her arm. She yanked it away, like he burned her. She gasped at the touch, and he frowned.

“Sorry—”

Her fight or flight kicked in and she bolted for the bathroom. It would lock and she would drop from the second story if necessary or scream until Harry heard her.

Oh. Harry.

Right as she tried to slam the door shut behind her his foot got in the way. She yelped as he grabbed her arm and yanked her out of the room. “Honey, stop fighting me,” he grumbled bitterly. She felt so sick. So scared. She wanted to scream and cry but it would be useless. No one would hear her. She needed to make someone hear her.

Slowly, painfully slowly, her brain started to work. It wasn’t much. But she prayed silently to herself that it would be. She took a shaky inhaled breath. “I’m…sorry,” her voice cracked, and tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t look at him. She was too scared. It was a nightmare, but she could feel the way her teeth bit into her cheek. It wasn’t something she would be waking up from. “I’ve had a really long week and a really long day. I haven’t eaten yet,” she whispered. “I was going to go downstairs and eat at the restaurant,” she sniffled. “Can we do that? A date?” It tasted sour in her mouth to say it. Her fingernails dug into her palms reminding her further it was a nightmare. It had to work. Please let it work.

“A date?” He mused. He stuffed the fabric in his hands into the pocket of his pants.

“Please,” she whispered. “I’m starving.”

“And then we can go to my place?”

The idea was so nauseating, so terrifying, she worried that it wouldn’t work. If the food got to her table, she was so incredibly scared she wouldn’t be able to eat it. Her whole body felt shaky and clammy. Like when she had the flu. One bite and she would be puking all over her table.

But hopefully that would get Harry’s attention.

“Okay,” he agreed and held his hand out for her to take. It felt like cheating on Harry to hold someone else’s hand. She forced the tears behind her eyes and willed the nausea to stay in the pit of her stomach.

She placed her hand in his.

Harry was pacing trying to figure out how to tell her he knew. Niall was on the phone with the police begging for no sirens and no lights. Eleanor was, in the smallest of possible ways, relieved to hear she was in the restaurant and not halfway to somewhere they didn’t know.

Harry couldn’t see her face. It killed him. Why didn’t he go up sooner? Why didn’t he beg for her to come down and help so they could make up? Why didn’t he insist and help her stubborn self the way he wanted to?!

“Goddamnit!” He shouted and shoved a bin of clean cutlery on the floor. It was so loud the restaurant ceased to make noise for a prolonged moment.

“Harry,” Niall was off the phone with the police Eleanor sobbing in his other ear no doubt. “You need to be smart. They cannot leave before the police get here or we’re fucked. Eleanor already sent the detective on her case to his old place of residence and there is no sign of him there. So, if they leave…” he trailed off and Harry released a strangled noise from his throat. Not quite a cry, not quite a yell. The pain was so intense from the thought he thought he could feel it in the atoms of his body. “If you cannot have a controlled response...,” Niall warned without finishing the sentence.

Harry swallowed the feeling of being sick down. He knew what Niall meant. “Okay,” he croaked.

Everyone was still trying to work. But the whispers ensued. Within moments, everyone knew. Everyone was trying to piece together a plan and Harry felt so confused, so lost, so scared because the only one he could ever imagine getting out of this situation was his sweet Principessa herself.

“Alright,” he cleared his throat. He needed to be brave. She needed him. She never needed anyone. The weight of that made him terrified. Shaking his head he pressed the heels of his palms in his eyes to stop the stressed tears from escaping. He swallowed and shook his head again. She did the hard part. She got herself in the restaurant and Harry’s attention without even talking to him. “Niall, bring out the garlic bread in three minutes,” he ordered while untying his apron and heading for the door to the alleyway. “Tell Eleanor to tell the detective to hurry.”

The restaurant was easily one of her top five favorite places in the world. But right now, she wanted to scream and run from it. Where was Harry or Niall?! God, she wanted to kill Matteo. How did he not know? Wasn’t everyone under a silent direction to tell Harry when she arrived?

The worry began to take over. Harry wasn’t coming to her rescue because he didn’t want to. She pushed him away and he was going to let—

No.

Harry, despite how mad he might have been, would never let anything happen to her. She was certain.

Wasn’t she?

Perhaps Harry really just didn’t know. It was unfortunate, but there was nothing she could do about it. Especially without any indication that anyone knew she was there. Her back was to the restaurant, and she was still in her gym clothes. With her back turned, hair in a ponytail, she was probably less recognizable than normal. That had to be it. He had no idea she was there.

It was a miracle she could keep her breathing as even as she did. The thoughts started to spiral further. Maybe he wouldn’t know. It was really busy in the restaurant—Matteo might not have noticed she was there with a stranger when he seated them since the hostess wasn’t there. Maybe he didn’t tell Harry yet.

Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears it was hard to hold a conversation with him almost because she couldn’t hear him; more so than the fact that she didn’t want to talk to him. But she didn’t have a choice. He asked her about work, her family, and if she had been reading anything good. She wasn’t into it—it was obvious and she wished she was because the only thing that was going to save her was being able to play it off that she didn’t want to crawl out of her skin at the sight or sound of him. Her stomach was churning, and her voice was so quiet she wished she could do a better job acting but she was terrified. Pain started behind her eyes, and she wanted to scream.

“Good evening.”

Her head snapped up to Harry briefly, who seemingly appeared out of thin air. Her jaw dropped silently. She was really beginning to believe that he wasn’t coming to her rescue. But now he was there. He knew she was there. He was going to help. She was sure of it.

He knew she was there.

Her heart started to pound in a new way, still scared but for the first time in twenty minutes she took a deep cleansing breath; relieved. She looked at her lap afraid to give it away that she knew him. “We are very short staffed this evening. We’re extremely sorry for the delay,” Harry sounded so formal, and she couldn’t look at him. If she did, she would cry. “Your food will be out as soon as we can. Please be patient with us. We’re very sorry.”

If she looked up, she knew his eyes would be looking at her. She knew his apologies weren’t about the food. The gravity in his voice said he was sorry because he didn’t know she was there sooner. He was sorry he didn’t come upstairs or to her rescue faster. A tear slipped across her cheek. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “Do you have a bathroom?” She asked.

“I don’t think—”

“Of course,” Harry interrupted hurriedly; she could practically hear the excitement in his voice. Like he was grateful she had a plan because he was a little stuck, a little lost. It made her feel weak immediately. The worry Harry must have felt because of her made her feel guilty and sad. She wanted to fix it and it was hard she felt like she was balancing on a tightrope. She hoped Harry wouldn’t hate her for running the second she had the opportunity. “I’ll lead you,” he offered.

“You just used the bathroom upstairs, honey,” the man reminded her. His voice was tight.

He was going to be mad if she left; that much was evident. “Well, I just—” She started.

“She’s all set, actually. Thank you.”

Harry stared at him. Weighing his options. She could see it. She cleared her throat. “Um...it’s okay,” she whispered quietly. Refusing to look at Harry again. If she did, she was going to blow what little cover she had. Poor Harry. “M’just a little tired,” she assured him, trying to sound braver than she felt.

“S’back and to the left,” Harry murmured and then headed to the next table and explained the short-staffed shift again. She wondered what he was thinking and what he was saying to the table. They looked like regulars, but she wasn’t completely sure because her mind was frazzled. Harry leaving her to fend for herself, even though he was only four feet away at most had her aching for him more than she ever wanted to hold his hand in her whole life.

Harry was losing his mind. He knew she understood his apology for taking so long. He knew that she understood between the lines that he was apologizing for Matteo’s mistake in not telling him sooner. Harry would have been out in the dining room so much faster. As much as it pained him to see her seated across from another man, regardless of the circumstances. It would have been better if she was with another guy in general. At least he wouldn’t be worried sick about her safety.

It took every bit of his strength to keep blowing their cover. To keep from shaking while he told the next table that they were short-staffed. They quietly inquired about the strange man sitting with the sweet girl they all had grown to know as their sometimes-waitress and Harry’s lovely Principessa. He quietly murmured something and then casually bumped into the table dropping the knife near the edge to the floor. As he bent to grab it, he murmured to the guy, pleaded with his eyes as he tried to whisper devoid of emotion. “Do not let her leave with him.”

Harry moved to the next table—strategically he chose the tables that allowed him to keep her in his peripheral. It was killing him. The shaking was becoming uncontrollable, and the whisper beg to the couples, imploring for help from the people he had gotten to know over the years, was getting strangled in his throat as he moved to the third and fourth table.

He was at a loss. The bathroom was a great idea, but he hadn’t a clue as to how to get her from point A to point B. Maybe he could pour hot soup on her, insist she come to the kitchen for help. But he wasn’t sure he wanted to spill their hot soup in her lap either. He supposed he could throw ice cubes in it and make it less horrible on her delicate skin, but he had to do something! His mind was spiraling. He wouldn’t see her in his peripheral in just two more tables and he was already about triple the distance of what he wanted to be from her—granted even an inch of space given the scenario seemed more horrific than he could bear.

He was feeling nauseous. Maybe he should just grab her by the hand and pull her away. But they had a chance to get rid of him. To keep him away from her once and for all. He violated the restraining order. That had to be something. He would have to go away.

Despite the fact she was so close but felt like an entire galaxy away. Harry was crumbling internally. This poor older woman who had been coming in every Saturday for years looked at him with pity in his eyes as he repeated his spiel once more. The agony he felt was in every inch of his bones, every pore of his skin. His eye was twitching.

When he got her safe and out of harm’s way, he planned on never letting go of her. At least not for a few days. He was going to kiss her and hold her. Apologize to her and cook for her. He wasn’t going to let her out of his sight. Harry was going to tell her he loved her and didn’t care if she was stubborn or felt like she was hard to care for because she didn’t like to be needy. He was needy. He needed her. It was killing him to be so close and so far away. So helpless and terrified that he couldn’t help her the way he wanted to right then. Even scared shitless, he thought she was beautiful and brave. So brave. She got here. She got his attention. That had to mean something. She believed in Harry and that he would find her or know she was there despite the frustration and anxiety she felt.

It was hard to believe it was only three minutes since he actually talked to her and apologized for taking so long. Niall came from the back with a plate of garlic bread as promised. Niall was going to come up with the next part of the plan, Harry hoped. Hell, he would go back to the table, feigning exhaustion for apologizing twice. God, he needed to get a bowl of soup, he was going to have to spill it in her lap! It was the only way.

Harry listened intently as Niall arrived at their table. He could almost see the glitter of her tears in her eyes. Nearly crying again at the sight of Niall. He wanted to make a joke more than anything that it had nothing to do with Niall but everything to do with her favorite bread in his hands. But he was mortified. Speechless in front of a table waiting with waited breath as they heard the murmurs and the wisps of what Harry managed to mumble before Niall’s arrival.

“Garlic bread,” he announced, as if she didn’t know. “Buon appetite,” he winked casually. He was far better at lying and acting than Harry or herself combined. She was itching to run. Niall and Harry, both could stop him. Someone would tackle him, right? She was fluttery. Ready to leave as soon as she saw an opening because she didn’t know what else to do. “Can I get you two anything else?” Niall asked kindly.

“I know you,” he said. It lacked suspicion but was no less terrifying.

She could see Harry’s back straightened in her peripheral and his speech silenced. Matteo and the hostess were working from the other end of the room at the same time. Probably explaining the situation to every table as quietly as they could just like Harry was.

Without any tell in sight, Niall merely tilted his head and looked at him. “Hmm...sorry. M’not sure I recognize you,” he shrugged. Niall stepped closer, getting a better look at the man across from her. His acting skills deserved an award.

But in moving closer, Niall also blocked her a good margin from his view. It was her chance. She bolted. Running from the main room and toward the kitchen so fast it took a minute for anyone to realize she was gone. She zipped out the kitchen door, back through the alley, and up to her apartment. She heard a shout coming quickly behind her, so she had to be faster. She hurried back into her apartment unable to do anything but grab her phone off the table and run into the bedroom and hide in the closet, closing the door quietly behind her. She dialed Eleanor. Her heart pounding as she heard the sound of steps. She left the door open to make it look like she ran back out, but it was impossible.

He was already in the apartment. Already tearing through her belongings, shouting, upending her furniture, and rifling through everything.

“Babe?” Eleanor nearly screeched with relief.

“I can’t talk,” she whispered barely an audible octave.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay on the phone,” she promised. “The police are on their way.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz

@likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59

@babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06

@canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong

@foreverxholland @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03

@luvonstyles @tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr

@crossyourpeter @kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @harryscherri

@indierockgirrl @michellekstyles @hermionelove @somethingabout1d19

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite @lovingfurypanda @sideboobrry11 @theresnooneheretosave @12yeahiminluvwu

@cohnfusedarling

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if I put you on the wrong list, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

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circeyoru · 2 months ago

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Collection of Overlords _ Part 16 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9 — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 (here) — Epilogue

“203 shots.” Carmilla announced once the time was out.

Husk halted in his attack while Valentino dropped to the floor, the charged cards all losing their effects and fell to the ground one by one. Wounds all over Valentino’s form to the point where it looked like he was dumped in red paint. The demon didn’t even have the energy to argue or ask what all that was about. On the other hand, Husk landed on his feet and folded his wings with a proud look on his face, evident by his smirk.

“The victor is Valentino, since he had landed more shots.” You spoke up, not missing the way Valentino gave Husk a dirty look while Husk wasn’t even fazed by the ‘lose’.

Valentino taunted with a smirk, “Can’t even win when you cheat.”

Husk gazed at him lazily, “For your information, you only said hit the red things, you never specifically say what red things. So… I wasn’t even cheating.”

“You..” Valentino growled, just as he was about to stomp his way to Husk, you interrupted.

“Husk, what would be your challenge?”

“Flight.” Husk stated as his wings opened, “Let’s see who can reach our own booth the quickest. Or you could just give me the win.”

Valentino’s eye twitched, a scowling frown shown. “As if I would ever.”

After catching your nod of acknowledgement, Husk started the countdown. “Ready, set, go!”

The moment Valentino opened his wings with a pained expression, Husk threw charged bomb dices at Valentino and readied his cards once more. In his wounded state, Valentino could only take the ambush and defend himself as best he could. “What is this…?”

Husk answered nothing and continued to attack while Valentino tried to evade. When Valentino was in the air, Husk counted and flew ahead of him with his healthier state, grabbing Valentino in whatever area he could get his claws on and threw the moth back onto the platform. From the amount of craters and the depth of them, everyone could see there was no playing around with Husk.

While the challenges all sounded simple enough and practically childish, it takes the participant’s mindset and logic to make it twisted. If one were to think simply, all would take it at face value, like Valentino did with his challenge when he summoned actual target boards to shoot. Husk saw the loophole in the rules and done accordingly, to satisfy your wishes while fulfilling his own personal wants. That was what you wanted from your Overlords.

Without a timelimit, essentially, this round could only end when one of them actually reaches their respective booth or Valentino gives up.

“My bet’s on Husk for this round. What say you all?” Rosie opened a conversation while the platform’s battle continued.

Every spectator looked over to Rosie who actually had the guts to chat during such an important event happening before them. Velvette looked over to Carmilla and Vox eyed Zestial for some form of hint as to what they could do or say since their status as Overlord was still relatively new in your eyes.

Alastor chuckled, “I second that. No way would the cat I brought under my well care lose to a moth of that stature.” He played with his cane as he gave the others a smirk, “Failure is not an option.”

You hummed, with a soft smile, you lifted your cup to your lips. “In that regard, if Husk were to have challenged you, would you lie down and protect his victory?”

Once more, Alastor chuckled, “Of course not, My Liege, the moment Husk regained his title by your will, he is no longer under my care but yours. However, I’d never let the challenge through,” He raised to his feet with a bow, “For all your precises souls should never fight each other for the sake of our own scabbles. Not unless,” His eyes glowed at the obvious implications. “You permit it, My Liege.”

Your smile widened. Alastor sure does have his way with words. “Well said, Alastor.”

“So the victor was decided the moment this challenge began.” Carmilla remarked with a grin of her own. “My Liege, you have a wicked sense of humour.”

You merely hummed as you sipped on your drink, making no comment on her claims.

It wasn’t like Valentino didn’t tried to retaliate after Husk showed his true colours in his round, but it was more like he was unable to. Although the previous round was his win, he has exhausted his guns and bullets, adding to that, he was never the confrontational type where he battles other demons on the front line. Such was the reason why he was so keen on sharing the Overlord title with Vox and Velvette because they would hide his misability and weaknesses while showing his strength.

Still, even when it was Husk’s lost in the previous round, he used it as a guarantee win for his round. By inflicting such wounds and injuries on Valentino, the moth was basically powerless. It showed everyone Husk’s calculated moves and quick thinking to give himself the edge and step down on his opponent. Not to mention, showcasing his superior strength and powers even after just being released from his soul contract with Alastor.

“...I give up…” Valentino choked out.

“Tsk. Coward.” Husk clicked his tongue and backed away.

“It appears to be a tie, so the winner of the final and special round will be the owner of Angel Dust.” You stated with a hint of playfulness. “The last round is simple.”

Valentino and Husk were forcefully moved to the oppose side of the platform while Angel and his cage was moved to the center. The platform was split into three areas, with the grey area that separated the red area where Valentino resided and the black area where Husk resided.

“If this isn’t obvious enough, I’ll have Angel decide where he wants to go. There’s no catch or play. If Angel goes to the red shaded region, he will continue to belong to Valentino. If by choice Angel goes to the black shaded region, his soul contract will be moved to Husk as his new owner. The round ends when Angel touches either region. If Angel doesn’t move within 20 seconds, however, he will be… Well, let’s not get to that.” You grinned, “Oh, but the Overlords can’t leave their region, how to tell is their feet must be touching their respective region. Are the rules clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Crystal.”

“Wonderful.” The cage disappeared with the snap of your fingers and the round begins.

A smokey chain appeared around Angel’s neck and wrists just as Angel started to sprint to Husk’s direction, only to be dragged back. Valentino held the end of the chains with a snarl. “You must be f***ing high if you think I’d just let you go!”

“Damnit!” Husk cursed as he fired his charged cards at Valentino and the chain.

“Let go of me!” Angel screamed.

Husk’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the chains and their quality. Smoke and loose. Just like the contract. “Angel, pull back!”

An extra pair of hands formed and Angel turned around and planted his feet into the platform as hard as he could to give him some form of advantage against Valentino’s pull. “I’m not letting you boss me anymore!”

Husk closed his eyes as he tried to force out something.

“Overlords all have some sort of trump card or a more dominant and haunting form.” You told Husk as Alastor was cooking you a meal. It was late into the night and all the hotel residents were in their room but you three who were still lingering in the kitchen and dining area. “Take Alastor for example, he has an enlarged form and a more demonic form. The others also have them, but they are more secretive with theirs. It’s elementary but a crucial tool to use against others.”

“I’ve never had something like that before.” Husk spoke honestly and defendedly.

You hummed since you couldn’t understand what the challenge was, you looked over to Alastor and asked, “Say, Alastor, which form is easier? Enlargement or demonic?”

At your question, Alastor’s head turned 180 to look at you, making a resounding crack sound. “Hmm, not sure. It came so easily to me. But… Perhaps demonic? Size manipulation does take a bit of energy. I merely prefer both at the same time.”

You smiled, “And how dashing you looked when you do.”

“Mn!” Alastor flinched at your comment and snapped his head to the side with a blush, “Thank- Thank you, My Liege.”

“Your meat’s burning.” You reminded.

Alastor immediately snapped back to normal and continued cooking while your words repeatedly looped in his mind like a broken record.

You turned back to Husk, “I’d agree, demonic seems easier and more straightforward for you to master in a short time. However, because it’s so normal and easier, it’s seen as nothing special. So in terms of intimadation, it would be lacking.” You pointed and poked at Husk in the chest from across the table. “At the moment, your powers are limited because of your contract with Alastor, so there’s not much you can do. If you want to win against Valentino for your dear friend, you need to adapt and change the moment you’re released from your contract.”

Husk’s claw tapped on the table with a frown of uncertainty. “Can I though?”

“The challenge for his contract won’t be announced by me, initiative is with you. This will also be your only chance because I have will remove Valentino from my Collection of Elites permanently.” You stated.

“Is this something you can tell me?!” Husk flinched at the news.

Your face was one of disinterest, near emotionless. “My keener Overlords are aware who would be next to be devoured. They are only in the dark about when it will happen. You’ll pick up this bit soon, or Alastor and the other would let you know in time. Some are saved and one’s not so lucky to escape. So you see, there will be changes.”

“... Okay… But if he’s to be removed… Then Angel will be free…”

You laughed, and Alastor even chuckled, a teasing smirk now on your face as you ridiculed Husk’s naive and fantastical thought. “To remove him means everything of his will be mine. Including Angel. I am no saint nor am I an angel that grants happy ending. This is Hell. All contracts under Valentino’s ownership wll be mine and so their souls will be reduced to nothing as well, just like their master.”

Husk gasped.

You got up and went to join Alastor while giving Husk one last advice. “Being uncertain and cowardly will cost you a lot more when you’re in my Collection. Remember these words.”

Husk roared as his wings opened and slowly enlarged, growing two times his size, then three, four, five, and six. Similar to an extra pair of hands, his wings curved forward and came to Angel’s side. The marginal coverts part of his wing gently wrapped around Angel’s form, while the other wing flicked at Valentino to produce strong winds that knocked him back to the edge of the platform.

With Valentino’s hold over the chains gone, Angel was free. He immediately ran into Husk’s hold while Husk’s large wings covered Angel from Valentino’s view. “Husk!”

“You’re safe now…” Husk sighed in relief, his wings returning back to their usual size. He held Angel’s hand and looked in your direction. “It’s over. This round, this challenge is over.”

You smile. “Indeed it is.”

“No. No! I don’t deserve this! I was betrayed! Those fucking b*tches Vox and Velvette left—!”

“Don’t you dare talk down to them.” Your Cages all dove down into Valentino and began tearing into his body bit by bit, his screams rang in everyone’s ears as it went on. As that happened, you changed the content of the contract and moved the ownership of Angel to Husk before passing it into his care.

Your Overlords all stood in attention and bowed deeply to you. Angel flinched and also did the same, silently thankful that you would allow such a thing and even let him have a say in this. Even though there was no need for you to even care when he acted so foreign and borderline hostile to you in the hotel.

You crossed one leg over the other and smirked, leaning your cheek to your knuckles. Your head tilted with your signature smirk, “With that, this gathering is over.”

“Hellish morning today at 666 News, right, Tom?”

“Right you are, Katie. Don’t we have something important to announce to all of Hell today?”

Zestial was seated in the empty audience seat of Velvette’s new threatre while she was on stage with her workers organizing them and arranging everything.

“Breaking news indeed! This just in from our big boss The Collector, the Vees have broken off from each other! Velvette and Vox remains but Valentino is no more.”

Rosie grinned with sharpened teeth as she watched her people devour a feast provided by your generosity. She eyed the meal in front of her and her hands cupped an soul with a wavy tail at the top. A soul. Slowly, she brought it up to her lips and devoured it in one gulp.

“Gone. Disappeared. Dead. Off the face of Hell. Who knows, he’s gone that’s it!”

Carmilla and Vox were both looking over designs for some technological weapon and serveiliance system together in Carmilla’s workshop while her daughters were setting refreshments on the table.

“That’s not all, folks! We got news that Husk as returned to the Overlord ranks and has taken over Valentino’s region, the gambling areas and bars alike! Looks like he’s giving the other Overlords a run for their money, or should I say souls? Hahahaha!”

Husk’s wings let him hover in the air as he directed his contractees and Zeezi’s what to do for the Vees tower to be reconstructed as his base. Husk landed before Zeezi and gave her a smirk to while she returned, they looked forward to the construction before them.

“That was some big changes. Looks like after a meeting held by Carmilla Carmine, alleged leader of the Overlords, their members have changed and so have the domain ownership in this Pride Ring.”

“That’s right, Tom. So everyone’s gotta make sure to be more aware of the new Overlords and their domains at least. After the last purge, they are not pulling any punches. With Alastor’s return, the Princess’ win against Heaven’s extermination, there’s more to come for Hell.”

Alastor set down a tray of your favourites while your head was turned to the direction of Hell’s scenery, he placed everything in a neat order and bowed his head before he was gently moved by your Cages to take a seat in front of you.

You turned your attention to Alastor and smiled. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Note: Now, this is the final part, but there's still the Epilogue that transitions into Season 2. Supposedly. Question for you guys~ What do you think is the relationship between the Collector and 666 News?

Circe Y.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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ihavemanyhusbands · 3 months ago

Text

Fantasies

Also on AO3

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Escort!Fem!Reader

WC: 2.6k words

Summary: I've done escort!Cooper, so I thought i'd try the inverse ;) // Your favorite regular, the Ghoul, drops by at the Atomic Wrangler for a visit.

Warnings: MINORS DNI THIS FIC IS 18+, crossover (fallout new vegas and fallout tv show), smut, formalized sex work (prostitution/escort), unprotected p in v, radiated creampie (with implied radaway use), swearing, shenanigans in front of a mirror, fingering, alcohol mention, vague dom/sub dynamics, just a little fluffy, two fools who can't get enough of each other, lmk if anything else!

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The Atomic Wrangler was just as he remembered — swimming in smoke, as if lost in a hazy dream, the ringing of the slot machines and the clacking of dice an accompanying symphony. Drunken patrons shambling about or slumped in shadowed corners, chips spilling from their pockets. Bar fights that were quickly, and often messily, dealt with.

It wasn’t the best place to gamble, he didn’t think, especially with how well he knew the Garrett twins and their wiles. But that wasn’t the reason for his visits, anyway, so it didn’t really matter to him.

At certain tables on the main floor sat sultry figures that whispered promises of ecstatic oblivion. The deepest fantasies come true, if only for a few hours before sunrise. It was worth every cap if it was in the right company, and he happened to be very particular about who he wanted around.

He knew you usually hung in the anteroom, and he even caught a glimpse of your skin in a rather low-backed dress as soon as he rounded the corner past the front desk. James Garrett caught his eye momentarily in silent question, to which he nodded in response. That meant you’d be booked for the rest of the night – his and only his.

Since you’d transferred from the Gomorrah, you were a hot commodity around there, and therefore could charge a much higher rate. You also had the chance to pick your own clients, which hadn’t really been an option before, so you were much more exclusive because of it.

But out of the handful of regulars you’d amassed, you only had one favorite. You heard him before you even saw him, what with the telltale jingling of his spurs, and when you did see him, a slow, easy smile spread on your lips, mirroring his.

Ruggedly handsome as ever, the same easy swagger and suave edge. His hazel eyes on you felt like a promise – like a caress – and you felt a fire begin to simmer under your skin. No one had ever made you feel the way he did; How quickly he could get your blood to warm, pupils blown wide with desire. No matter how much time passed between visits, he’d become a permanent fixture in your body, impossible to forget.

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in…” you drawled, casually leaning against the bar. “Back so soon, Cooper?”

He chuckled slightly. “Were you countin’ the days ‘til you saw me next, sweetheart?”

You shrugged one shoulder, playfully noncommittal. “Were you?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, following your game. “Guess you’ll be finding out soon enough.”

You let out an amused huff, giving him a once over. “You want your usual drink?”

He nodded and you pointedly leaned over the bar for a quick word with the bartender. He noticed some other patrons craning their necks to get a better look, eyes wide as saucers at the vast expanse of exposed flesh. A few of them noticed him hovering nearby, and any who dared to make eye contact were met with a smug wink and grin.

Under his gloves, his fingers itched to touch, but he kept his hands to himself. The building anticipation would have a greater payout, he already knew, and he wanted it all to be for his eyes only.

Unfazed by the outside attention, you turned back to him with a bottle of scotch in hand and a suggestive glint in your eye.

“Lead the way, then, cowboy.��

He clicked his tongue twice for you to follow, making his way back to the main room and towards the stairs. His room — which James had given him a key to for helping with some rather pressing business — was at the very end of the hallway. It was the most spacious out of all of them, but it was sparsely decorated, only meant for temporary visits. Still, it was a nice little sanctuary for you two to escape to.

“So, what will it be tonight, hmm?” You said, setting the bottle down on top of the old dresser. “Wild cowgirl for you to tame? Or maybe you’ve got some … ailment I can take care of for you?”

You opened the closet door and took out a cowgirl costume and an old nurse’s uniform, flirtatiously raising your eyebrows at him. Many fantasies had been played out within those four walls, and you certainly didn’t mind playing a little dress-up.

“No, none of that tonight,” he said with an amused huff, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You tilted your head to one side in curiosity. “What would you have me wear, then?”

He made slow work of taking his gloves off, his eyes roaming down and then back up equally slowly until he was holding your gaze.

“Well, that’s just the thing… I don’t want you in anything at all.”

You smiled, putting the costumes away and leaning against the door as you closed it. “That can be arranged…”

You reached up to undo the top clasp of your dress, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“Woah there, I ain’t in a rush. Do it slowly…”

You complied with a small chuckle, undoing the clasp but not letting the straps fall quite yet. You turned around and then let them fall, glancing coquettishly at him over your shoulder. One corner of his lips tugged upwards in a sly grin, and he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

Without turning around, you shimmied it down your hips and heard his sharp inhale as he saw you weren’t wearing panties. You felt a flutter in your stomach at the sound, intoxicated by your effect on him. Still, you didn’t bend forward for him to get a better look at the apex of your thighs, wanting to string him along for a little while longer. He had said he wasn’t in a rush, after all.

As the fabric fell to the floor, you stepped out of it, only shoes left to discard. You grabbed a chair and sat across from him, extending your leg to rest it on his lap. Another playful grin on your lips as your hand snaked down to cover yourself in a faux display of demureness, your eyes downcast.

“I could use some help with my shoes, if you would be so kind,” you said, a sultry edge to your tone.

His eyes flicked down to where your hand was resting as he swallowed hard, but he kept his bravado close as he undid the straps of your high heels and carefully took them off. His hands caressed your calves but went up no further, almost like a test. You gave him a look that said good boy, but he found a challenge within that look, as well.

“Now, why don’t you come sit a little closer? Don’t much like how far you are right now…” he said.

You raised an eyebrow, practically halfway on his lap already. “That so?”

He patted his thighs. “Oh yeah, got a whole lotta space right here with your name on it.”

You chuckled, shaking your head as you stood. But before you could straddle him, he turned you around and sat you down on himself. Affixed on the wall in front of you was a dirty full-length mirror, and he kicked the chair to one side to get a better look at your reflections.

“There we go, much better,” he said, caressing your arm with one hand until it was over the hand that you were covering yourself with. “No need to be shy now. Pretty sight such as yourself… Can’t just let you miss it.”

You squirmed on his lap, but he held you fast, burying his face in the crook of your neck and kissing the sensitive skin there. You let him remove your hand and spread your legs, arching against him as his fingers lightly traced your inner thighs.

“You sure don’t waste any time,” you said, trying to sound teasing, but you couldn’t help a small gasp as he cupped one of your breasts with his free hand.

“Somethin’ about you, darlin’… just can’t seem to keep my hands to myself when I’m around you,” he rasped, nipping your shoulder with his teeth.

Slowly, his hand slipped further up, past your sternum and your throat. His fingers dipped past your lips and your tongue circled around his digits, a low hum in your chest.

“Go on, get those nice and wet for me,” he said, craning his head to look at you, hips bucking upwards as he felt the sudden suction of your mouth on his fingers. He groaned, his voice raspy as he spoke again.“Oh, just like that, sweetheart.”

You moaned, his fingers pressing down on your tongue for a moment before releasing. His hand immediately dipped down, his hips adjusting so he could keep your legs spread over his. When his fingers found purchase, you felt it surge through you, your back taut as a bow.

“Holy fuck, Cooper.” You gasped.

He chuckled smugly. “Didn’t I tell ya you’d find out soon enough?”

The words melted away before you could try to respond. Your eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back against him. He grasped your chin with his other hand, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“Keep those pretty eyes open, darlin’. Don’t you wanna see how I’m makin’ you feel so good?”

You complied with a nod, your eyes training on your reflection. The sight of his hand’s slow, methodical ministrations on your clit, spreading your glistening slick through your folds, stoked the fire burning low in your belly.

Your eyes met his through the mirror, the intensity in his gaze nearly making you shudder. He kissed your shoulder and nipped gently at the junction where it met your neck. You squirmed against his grip, pleasure intensifying almost to the point of overstimulation.

Your voice was shaky as you said, “I-I think I’m getting close already… Fuck…”

“That so?” He hummed thoughtfully. “Better not look away again, then, ‘cus if you do, I’ll stop.”

Your brows furrowed as you tried to glare at him through the mirror. “You’re so mean.”

He chuckled, taking it as a challenge to be even meaner. His hand found a quick, sloppy rhythm that nearly had your body going into overdrive. You could feel his cock straining in his pants against your backside, heard his barely contained groans in your ear as he made sure you didn't break eye contact. The slight humiliation of watching yourself come undone – so wanton and desperate – tinged with the threat of him stopping, finally toppled you over the edge.

With a cry, your muscles seized up as you felt heat spiral outwards from your core. He worked you through it, even as your legs shook and your knees tried to draw close. In the aftermath, your body went slack against him, your breaths coming out in ragged pants. You smiled at each other mischievously through the reflection.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I can’t say I hate it…” You said, chuckling weakly.

“Oh, and that was just the start of it,” he said, voice husky. “I’m nowhere near done with you… Or did you forget how long our nights usually are?”

“How could I ever forget?”

You slid off his lap and knelt in front of him, eyes glittering as you reached to undo his pants and pull them down. But before you could even try to get your mouth on him, he hoisted you up and onto the side of the bed on your stomach. You let out a small yelp of surprise, the tips of your toes barely touching the floor as he positioned himself behind you.

“God, are you just not gonna let me do anything to you?” You teased, resting your head sideways to glance at him from the corner of your eye. “I want to touch you, too, you know.”

“You’re forgetting this is my fantasy,” he said, clicking his tongue. “And what I want right now is to make this body of yours feel as good as I know how to. Ain’t gotta do much else but let me spoil you.”

You felt him press against you, the textured skin of his cock sliding against the swell of your ass. You wiggled it a bit, half plead and half tease, eager for the stretch and weight of him inside you. You felt his hands spreading you from behind, getting a better look. A low, rough groan and he couldn’t take it anymore, notching against your entrance and pushing inside.

You moaned loudly at the immediate stretch, feeling every inch. Your torso lifted, but one of his hands came to rest on your head, pushing you back down against the mattress. With his other hand, he gripped one of your hips tightly, both possessive and ardent.

“Fuck, you’re nice and tight, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Feels so good squeezing around my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him as if in response to his praise. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, exhaling it slowly to keep his composure. He leaned more of his weight on top of you, his thrusts hard and slow, punching breathy sounds out of your throat every time he bottomed out. You tried to get a better footing but to no avail, instead surrendering to his mercy. Or lack thereof, as it were.

The sounds you were making were loud and unrestrained, like two animals mad with spring fever. Flesh slapping against flesh, breath, and teeth, and sweat intermingling. His body pushed and pulled over you with the intensity – the violence – of rolling waves. God, you had missed this a little too much.

“C-Cooper,” you whimpered, unable to say anything else.

“That’s it. Just let go and give it to me, doll,” he panted, his movements harder and faster.

You felt yourself dissolve once more, eyes rolling back into your skull as you squeezed tight around him. He made a strangled noise, pushing through for as long as he could until he felt ecstasy wash over him as well. His warmth filled you, pushed deep inside by a few last shallow thrusts.

When he pulled out, you barely had time to catch your breath, unable to help a dizzy laugh. He pounced back on you soon after, when you’d playfully tried to crawl away from him.

It was perhaps a good thing the room had so little furniture, given that you probably would have destroyed it all, anyway. No corner was left untouched as you two seemed to play an unending game of cat and mouse that always ended the same way… only in different positions.

“You’re gonna be the death of me!” You said, collapsing on one side of the bed and tucking a pillow between you as a barrier.

He chuckled, lying on his side facing you. “Tough luck, sweetheart. Sure don’t seem like the sun will rise any time soon…”

“So that’s how it is, huh? What if I get you next?”

He smirked, a primal edge to the curve of his lips. “You can certainly try, but you better move fast, ‘cus that barrier ain’t gonna protect you from me for long.”

You bit your lip to contain a grin, feigning being aghast. Still, though, despite these threats and the imminent exhaustion, the last thing you wanted was for morning to come.

Not that you would give him the satisfaction of admitting it out loud, though. At least not unless he worked particularly hard for it…

Well, perhaps he was starting to get close enough. Maybe he would get lucky one of those nights.

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#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #fallout fanfiction #fallout smut #cooper howard #the ghoul #minors dni

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 30 days ago

Text

Invite Me In

Author's note: More of Nanael in Husbandry.

Summary: So- how did Nanael go from being a tragic boy to Cedric's Body dumping buddy?

Warnings: LMK if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis, @undeaddream

Nanael was glad that he had some rations, both hydration, food and... other fluid rations on him. It helped his healing factor charge up as he carefully poked at his body parts, took off his helmet and grabbed a stick from the ground to bite into as he set his own bones.

Not wanting to bite through his own tongue or make too much noise as he patched himself up as best he could and just wait for his body to stitch itself back together. After the pain tapered off a bit he thought of calling for help.

No- there's no one to help him. His Company is dead- he's the last survivor of his company. Tears fall down his cheeks at he recalls that and he shakes his head, carefully as he closes his eyes and wrestles with his emotions in order to stop crying.

He needs to conserve resources- the time for tears and grief will happen after he's found some semblance of safety. He opens his eyes and carefully looks around- this place- this planet. This is not the planet that he was on before, when he had died- where his brothers had died.

He remembers the voice- the hands the words of his Primarch Father, 'Live, my son.' And part of him feels great joy and pride, while another part of him wonders 'why me?' He's no one special, he's not an Officer of many years, he's not a Librarian of great power.

He's just a freak with wings. Most brothers who gain the wings also get Psykery powers to activate. Unfortunately for Nanael, he just has the wings- but no Psykery to use as well. At least his wings aren't broken and he slowly gets up, and put his helmet back on.

He doesn't know where he is- but as he takes in a deep breath- he has noticed that there is pollution in the air- which means a civilization of some kind must exist on this planet. Whether the civilization is Human or Xeno, he won't know until he finds them.

He checks his vox- and tries to call out- no dice, it's busted. Which, is par for the course, really. He heaves a sigh and tries to find a source of water- a flowing source, like a river is ideal. Most peoples have their places of civilization near a source of water.

He finds a stream and follows it downwards. At just watches this lovely biodiverse planet as he walks. For hours in silence, slowly- he starts to hear noise, of people nearby.

He slows down and lifts his head- he recognizes the language that's spoken. It's High Gothic- and as he carefully approaches, his hearts fall to his stomach. The colors and iconography of the brothers- well cousins, who speak are that of the Black Tempars.

Black Templars tend to be a rather... intense chapter- and are very good at killing. They don't tolerate those they find as Other. And with his golden armor and wings upon his back.

He will be lucky if they don't try and kill him. Maybe... maybe he can ask for direction from them and leave? He makes sure to make noise as he approaches their camp.

"Halt!" one of the Black Templars on guard duty calls out sharply, "Identify yourself."

"Nanael of the Lamenters," Nanael reports dutifully.

"What are you doing here?" The Black Templar says as he approaches the Lamenter suspiciously as he glares at the larger space marine.

"Looking for help," Nanael replies honestly.

The Black Templar spots the black and white Checkerboard, the bleeding heart- and hears his name and chapter and, Nanael's hearts sink as the Black Templar pulls out his weapon.

"Foul Mutant- begone from here." The Black Templar barks out- he had spotted Nanael's wings. "If you come closer I shall strike you down!"

"What's going on brother?" One of the other Black Templars calls out- noticing that his fellow Templar has drawn a weapon.

"A Mutant dares to approach our campsite." The first Black Templar says with an angry growl.

"I am not a mutant!" Nanael protests, "I'm a fellow Astartes."

"Oh- it's one of that, Chapter," The second Black Templar says in disgust and recoiling a little, "You- bad luck magnet. Begone! Before your presence curses us."

"But I," Nanael tries to say.

"Leave or else!" A Third Black Templar barks out- this one is in Terminator plates. "We don't want your kind to taint us with your cursed luck. Try and stay and death is what you'll get."

"... I'm leaving." Nanael says, with no other choice, still badly hurt and aching.

Another voice calls out, "What is going on here, brothers?" While Nanael limps away.

"A foul Mutant freak, that dares to call itself an Astartes has approached our camp, Chaplain Petras." The second Black Templar says, as he spits towards Nanael.

"That sounds concerning," The Chaplain says sounding concerned as the Chaplain of the Black Templar approaches the group. "Oh- a Lamenter."

The Chaplain looks him over, the skull mask of his Specialty glaring at Nanael as he shifts away from the other's judgmental gaze. The Chaplain gently pats the shoulders of each of his Crusade.

"Why don't you three go and get something to eat, hm? I shall speak to this one." The Chaplain says.

They protest, the Black Templars not wanting their Chaplain to be near the foul abomination. "I can handle myself brothers, besides- I can guide That One to a place of rest, where it- he, shall not bother us."

"Yes Chaplain Petras," The line brothers say with polite nods as they head off back deeper into the camp.

Nanael has a really bad feeling about this as the Chaplain turn towards him. He braces himself, wondering what is going to happen next.

#warhammer 40k #warhammer #space marine husbandry sentience #adeptus astartes #space marine husbandry #oc: Nanael #Lamenters #Black Templars #Mortifactors #Night Lord #oc: Petras

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gaybananabread · 1 year ago

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Oh my gosh congratulations on the milestone!! 🥳💖 I would love something for ROTTMNT! Maybe lee Mikey and ler Leo or lers Raph, Leo and Donnie. I’d love Dragon Fruit, Oranges & Grapes! Take all the time you need and I hope you’re doing well! 💖

Fruit(s): Dragon Fruit, Oranges, Grapes

AAAAAHG THANK YOU! You're so nice all the time, just make my brain go (>w<)✨! Been a hot second since I've done something for Rise, these boys need some more love from me. (Got carried away but we don't talk about that shhhhhshsh) Again, thank you sosososo much, and I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Mikey

Lers: Raph, Leo, Donnie

Summary: Mikey tries making a treat for his bros, but things don't go as planned, bumming him out. The boys quickly notice and, after a quick wrestling match and some questions, manage to get their baby bro back into his high spirits.

Warnings: none! This is a fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

“No no nononONONO!”

Feeling his heart sink, Mikey pulled his fruity Danish pastries from the oven. The charred surfaces and burning smell of the treats brought tears to his eyes. Three hours of work down the drain…

The teen had been trying to make desserts for his brothers; they’d been really supportive during his recovery from the Kraang invasion, encouraging him and helping him wrap his arms. Even Donnie had put aside some extra time to shop for arm braces. They deserved it.

His arm had a flare-up during the baking, making him take a break to put a brace on. The timer had gone off without him in the room, his poor confections roasted beyond recognition. He sniffed, dumping the marred fruits of his labor into the trash. Maybe some music and drawing would help…

“Okay, family meeting.” Raph sat down with his two of his brothers, Donnie quickly correcting him. “Teeechnically, it's a partial family meeting. If we count the main seven family members and round the percentage, it's only about 42%-” He got a hand clamped over his mouth, the blue-themed turtle interjecting. “HUSH the nerd stuff! We know what we're here for, right?”

Donnie scoffed, but stopped spouting math. All three brothers knew what the problem was. Raph took charge again, attempting some order. “Mikey's been really down all day. Raph's worried about him.”

The purple clad turtle tapped his wristlet, frowning. He had been keeping track of Mikey's expressions from the past few days.“He seemed fine yesterday. Angelo’s face only drops around two today. I hadn't seen him for a few hours, my data’s a bit incomplete. I think he was in the kitchen.”

Leo blinked, seeming shocked. “Wow. Your number craziness finally paid off.” A claw extended from Donnie’s battle shell, whacking the snarky teen upside the head. Raph stepped between them before any more chaos could ensue.

“HEY! Donnie, do ya know what he was doin’ in there?” He huffed before answering, looking down. “I…do not. Dr. Delicate Touch made me promise not to install cameras; even I won't defy him.”

That was fair; none of them wanted to go against Dr. DT… Leo sighed, twirling his mask tails as he spoke. “I've tried asking, but no dice. The dude's clearly not okay, but he won't talk about it. Little hypocrite…”

The techy teen offered an idea. “We could try to interrogate him.” Leo snorted, snapping out of his little trance. “Interrogate? What is this, one of dad's movies? Besides, it'd probably only make him more upset.”

Raph bit his finger as he thought; one bad habit he'd tried and failed to drop. He got an idea, snapping his fingers and smiling. Bingo. “I got it! Listen up boys, here’s the plan…”

Mikey was sitting on his bed, moping and dragging a pencil across some cardboard. He wasn’t making anything; it was just a nice way to destress. Things weren’t working as well as they usually did, though… A knock at his train car door startled him, making the typically upbeat boy flinch and drop the pencil. “C-coming…”

The metal slid open, an obviously forced smile on his face. All three of them wanted to wrap him in a hug, but they had to follow the plan. “Hey guys…what is it?”

Leo stepped forward, looking his brother over. He took special notice of the arm braces. “Alright hermano, the jig is up. What’s wrong?”

The boy’s fake smile faltered a bit, though he tried to keep the act going. “J-jig? I dunno what you’re talking about, Leo. I’m good!” His artificial confidence got a bit stronger at the end. It was clear he wasn’t telling them without a fight.

Raph was next to get closer, trying to sneakily box the boy in. This time, however, a small smile was paired with the chasm.

A small squeak escaped the youngest as he backed up, recognizing the look on his brothers’ faces. They wouldn’t…would they? “C’mon Mike, this can go quickly if ya just hold still.” Oh. They would.

Feeling a slight giddiness rise in his chest, Mikey ran farther into his train car, diving for his escape hatch. Raph stopped him in his tracks, using his mystic tonfā power to catch him in a giant fist. Leo ran over, being careful of his brother’s arms as he tossed him into his hammock.

“GUys- guys wahait! Mikey squirmed and kicked, the hammock swinging as he thrashed. Leo flipped his sword, opening two portals to hold his brother’s arms safely. Didn’t want him getting hurt after all that recovery time.

“Nah, there’s no fun in waitin’. Raph’s out for giggles and the truth.” Wasting no time, Raph started poking at his brother’s armpits. A genuine smile formed on the younger’s face, giggles spilling from his lips. “Rahaphie! Nohohot thihis!”

“But this is the best! You get to giggle, and we get to hear it.” Leo smirked, not wanting to miss out on the fun. “Big man’s right, Miguel. The truth will set you free~!” He moved his hands to Mikey’s plastron, scratching and scribbling on the area where his stomach would be. “LeheheHEEOOOOO! C-chohOHOME OHOHOhohon!”

“Just tell the truth, Micheal. You know there’s no simple way out of this predicament.” Donnie took in the sight of them; his co-conspirators smirking, enjoying the sound of their brother’s laughter, and Mikey, laughing and sounding happier than he had all day. He supposed it was worth breaking a few of his rules for the occasion. He pressed a button on his bo, the feather he used against Shredder popping out.

“D-dehehee? Whahat ahare youHU- NYAAAHAHAHO!” Mikey squealed as he felt the soft fibers of the feather run behind his knees. Curse him for taking off the knee pads… The armpit pokes, the tummy scritches, the feather on his knees; it was all too tickly. It was nice to be able to laugh with his brothers, though he didn’t know how much longer he could take all of them at once.

Raph chuckled, smiling warmly as his brother laughed. Those goofs were gonna be the death of him…but he loved them more than he could ever express. If it takes some playful tickles to get one of his bros to open up, then so be it. “All ya gotta do is fess up, Mikey. What’s been goin’ on today?”

He still didn’t seem like he was giving up, though it was clear he was reaching a breaking point. Donnie, ever the over-achiever, wanted to speed things up. He sent a claw from his battle shell to his brother’s knees, having it squeeze and scribble along the underside. That did him in.

“K-GAHAHAHA! DOHOHONIEHEHE! *snrk* NAHAHAH!” Raph gave the purple-clad turtle a look, sighing. “The goal is to get the truth, Donnie, not kill him.” Dee just chuckled, continuing the metallic tickles.

Kicking and thrashing like crazy, the teen finally reached his limit. “OHOHOKAHAHAY! IHI- *snrk* IHI’ll TEHEHELL!”

And just like that, it all stopped.

Donnie begrudgingly retracted his tools, a small smile still on his face as he watched his little bro giggle. Leo followed suit, though Raph’s hand moved to the underside of the boy’s chin. He gently wiggled his fingers into the soft skin, chuckling as his little bro melted into the touch. His loud and bubbly laughter died down to soft, breathy giggles.

“Spill it, little man~” Raph practically purred as he said it, his tone softening with the next phrase. “We promise not to judge.”

Mikey whined through his giggles, but didn’t squirm. Leo had long since released his arms; he just hadn’t noticed. “Uh-uhuhum…I wahanted to make youhuhu guhuys some d-dahanishehes for helpihing me throuhugh recovery.” He looked down, still not pulling away from the loving tickles. He’d never say it out loud, but he loved them.

“Ihi uhm… Ihihi kinda buhuhurned them. H-hahad a flare-up whehen they went ihin the ohohoven…” All three brothers’ expressions softened, even Donnie’s. The thought was incredibly sweet, and it wasn’t his fault his arms still hurt sometimes.

“Mikey…listen. We love ya. Even if you weren’t an awesome baker, we’d still take care of ya.” He continued to gently scritch under his chin, though the big guy limited it to one finger. Donnie jumped in, not making eye contact. “It’s not your fault you still get pains. Based on typical recovery times, you’re actually making exponential progress. Occasional aches are to be expected.”

“If you ever need anything, we’re all here for you. I could help with the baking and stuff, if you want.” Leo’s offer made his heart soar, as well as his other brothers’ kind words. Heartfelt moments like those would forever be cherished, especially that one.

He felt a few tears spring to his eyes, arms reaching for his bros’ hands. “Youhu guys are the behehest…” Raph stopped tickling, enveloping them all in a hug. Donnie whined, but he relaxed into the embrace. Mikey sighed, his heart full and the sadness from earlier in the day completely gone. He loved his brothers so freaking much…

#rottmnt tickle #kasey's fruit shop #lee!mikey #ler!leo #ler!raph #ler!donnie #ticklish!mikey #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #rise of the tmnt tickle #hamato bro shenanigans #tickle fluff #rottmnt #rise of the tmnt

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