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Hi! I'm Keira and I'm a writer :) if you want to know who I write for, check my rules for requesting. I go by she/her pronouns and that's primarily the pronouns I use in my fics.
My interests include but are not limited to Stardew Valley (Harvey my love ♡) romance novels (current rec: The Spellshop by Sarah Beth Durst) and painting!
If you'd like to get to know me better feel free to send an ask or dm me! :) Also check out my side blog where I reblog my favorite fics - @keirasficrecs
♡ summary: Dustin is quickly getting rather irritated with his sister's new admirer
wc: 292
My contribution to the January Jumble Scribbles! - Jan 28 “I actually watch her back and not her backside.”
Eddie was still trapped in exile. He’d been relying solely on you and his young curly haired friend, AKA, your younger brother Dustin, to bring him food, water, and entertainment. Who would've thought that the weight of his sanity would rest on the shoulders of the Hendersons? You visited often while the others worked out a way to prove his innocence, keeping him company at Reefer Rick's remote cabin. Every time, without fail, the minute you left the cabin, Eddie was counting down the seconds until you came back.
Currently, you, Dustin, and Eddie were walking through the woods behind the cabin. After way too much of his groaning and a pretty convincing pair of puppy dog eyes, you relented to take him out on a short walk, you a few feet ahead to keep watch. It was getting dark out anyway, so you weren't too worried about getting caught.
Dustin walked with Eddie behind you, intensely aware of the way his older friend's gaze lingered on you. More specifically, the part of you that looked oh-so-good in those jeans.
"Are you even listening?" Dustin asked, interrupting his own rant about the latest campaign.
"Huh? Yeah, yeah man, I'm listening." Eddie barely spared a glance away from you. Dustin scoffed, about to continue his rant when he spotted something ahead of you.
"Hey, watch out!" He lurched forward, yanking you back just before you could step into the hidden bear trap in front of you. Eddie peeked around your other shoulder to see what all the fuss was about.
"Hey, nice catch, Henderson. How'd you even see that thing?"
"Because I actually watch her back and not her backside." He sent a glare at Eddie, who replied with only a sheepish glance.
guess who just saw Fantastic Four!!!!! Here are my thoughts:
Reed? More like Reid cuz why is that man just Dr. Spencer Reid if he was stretchy and married? Like, who let me watch another thing with a hot brainiac who stops bad guys.
anyway I'm absolutely obsessed with Herbie, HE' SO CUTIEEEEE! I need my own litte Herbie, but maybe like a tiny one to just roam around my desk.
Okay, being serious now, I did actually really like the movie. the plot was cool, and the silver woman (I don't remember her name, did they even give her one?) was absolutely iconic.
quick update on this: I've probably watched this movie maybe 10 more times since I posted this and I am so obsessed with Joseph Quinn's portrayal of Johnny Storm that I have started writing multiple fics about him (stay tuned)
My rating has changed to a 10/10 and my requests for Johnny are now open!
jk, I don't know how long I'll be writing again for, hopefully this'll help me find my motivation, but I'm sorry for being gone so long, I haven't had a lot of time to write with work and school and all that 🫣
and to everyone who has requested something while I've been gone, I have seen them and I will get to them all eventually! :)
anyway here's a lil blurb about chronically offline spencer and his chronically online girlfriend because I've been thinking about this as of late while I bed-rot 🤭
spencer reid x chronically online!girlfriend
warnings: brainrot terms used, explaining brainrot to spencer, may be a bit cringy 🫣
wc: 0.7k
You laid in bed on top of the covers as you do after every long shift at work (which is about ninety percent of them), the sounds of Spencer in the shower providing white noise for your doom-scrolling. You don't know what it was about tik tok that pulled you in. It's not like you really enjoyed most of the videos it fed you anyway.
Spencer has told you in the past how the constant stream of notifications, content, and social validation trigger small dopamine releases in our brains, creating a powerful reward loop that makes us constantly crave more which is why we're so addicted to our phones. But what did he know? The man still had a flip phone.
You heard the shower turn off, the steady pound of droplets hitting the floor easing to a halt. Spencer hums softly as he dries and dresses himself, a faintly familiar song you're sure he's hummed to you before, late at night when neither of you can sleep.
The door opens as your thumb swipes up, almost an unconscious routine movement by now.
"What are you watching?" Spencer asks innocently, shaking his hair dry with the towel as he stands at the foot of the bed. Him in his fleece pajamas and faded t-shirt with wet hair, curling slightly at his chin, would normally distract you, but you'd just stumbled upon a 'get ready with me' rant in which the woman spoke at the perfect speed for your brain. It almost reminded you of Spencer in a way, when he'd get sucked into a ramble, his words speeding up with excitement.
You barely remembered to answer his question. "TikTok." A soft mumble half into the pillow. Spencer chuckled and shook his head. He finished drying his hair, hanging up the towel in the bathroom, before climbing into bed behind you. His chin hooks over your shoulder, arm winding around your waist.
"Get ready with me to hang out with fine shyt-"
"What does that mean?" Spencer murmurs, eyebrows furrowing at the strange video playing on your phone.
"Fine shyt? It's like calling someone attractive kinda." You explained, quickly scrolling past the tik tok as Spencer hummed noncommittally.
After passing by a few clips, barely hearing a second of the audio before you scrolled, you paused on another one. It was a video of a cat with the sound of a man saying 'my shayla' over it. Watching cat videos online always made you feel like an old millennial woman.
"Who's Shayla? Is that cat Shayla?"
"No, it's- that's just the audio. It's not the original sound." You could practically feel the confusion radiating off of Spencer. "It's a trend." You said, as if that would make him understand.
The next video just confused him even more.
"How old are you? I'm four! You are the youngest person ever-"
You giggled, that audio never failing to make you laugh.
"I don't get it. Why did he say that?"
"I don't know, Spence, it's just funny. You don't have to understand it to laugh at it." You said through chuckles.
"I don't know how you watch this stuff." He grumbled but he didn't turn away as you scrolled.
"I am the owner of the one and only twenty four karat gold labubu-"
"What is that thing?" He sounded truly bewildered, only spurring on more laughs from your lips.
"It'd be too hard to explain."
Your stomach is aching at your boyfriend's confusion to nearly every tik tok you show him, and you finally have to just turn it off.
"I don't understand! Why is this funny to you?" He's laughing now too, more so at the absurdity of the video of the shark with blue shoes and the ballerina with a cup of coffee for a head that you just showed him.
"I don't know! It just is!" You curled into his chest, your giggled stifled in his David Bowie shirt.
By Monday, Spencer finds himself saying 'what the helly' during a briefing and his face goes bright red as Penelope cackles at him.
it's officially the first day of autumn! and that means it's time for some fall themed prompts! if you'd like me to write any of these, send in a request with a character from my rules for requesting and I'll write it!
🍁 Picking Pumpkins/apples Together
🍂 Haunted hayrides
🎃 Haunted House party
🍁 Traveling through/Getting lost in a corn maze
🍂 The Jack O'Lantern Pact
🎃 “Autumn always feels like a countdown, doesn’t it?”
🍁 "I saw you at the harvest festival. With them."
🍂 "This costume was supposed to be sexy."
🎃 "Apple cider on the stove, socks mismatched, and you in my kitchen — it’s perfect."
🍁 "You always were a sweater thief."
🍂 "One more haunted house, and then we go back to pretending we’re just friends."
🎃 "I hate that everything feels like an ending."
🍁 "I love you more than this stupid flannel, and that’s saying a lot."
🍂 "You’re tracking leaves through the house again, and I swear you do it just to hear me scold you."
🎃 “Your lips are blue. Here, take my coat.”
🍁 "I think she’s been haunting the attic since last Halloween. I just… I don’t think she’s ready to move on."
🍂 "oh, come on! it's just a haunted house; it'll be fun."
🎃 "don't you just love when the leaves change colors?"
🍁 "You died on Halloween. Do you remember anything? Or... just me?"
🍂 “Do you wanna wear matching costumes for Halloween this year?”
🎃 “But Halloween is for kids!”
🍁 "You dragged me into the woods on Halloween. This better be a murder or a proposal."
🍂 "You keep bringing home pumpkins and pretending you don’t love this season."
🎃 “You carved my initials into the pumpkin?”
🍁 "you look so cute in your scarf and hat!"
🍂 “Don’t jump in the leaf pile! I spent an hour raking—”
🎃 "we could just stay in, you know... can we please stay in?"
🍁 "do you know where i put the nutmeg?"
🍂 "Every fall leaf I see makes me think of your hair in the sunlight."
♡ summary: superman finds himself in yet another battle but this time, there's more at stake
wc: 1.4k
It was a slow day. With an average of about four customers an hour, you were undeniably bored. If you squinted your eyes enough, you could maybe, just barely convince yourself that you caught a glimpse of Clark through the Daily planet windows across the street.
Of course, you were kidding yourself because he worked on the eighth floor. Working right across the street from your boyfriend did have its perks. Often, he or one of his coworkers would make a coffee run to your cafe and that would be your entertainment for the day.
"Welcome to Grinders, what can I get you?" You asked, focused on the tablet in front of you instead of the customer. It’s not like your manager would care much about your unprofessionalism. Not while he’s out back on his third smoke break of the morning.
"I'll take one kiss from my girlfriend, please." You look up, seeing your boyfriends grinning face.
"Clark!"
"Hi, you look pretty today." You glanced down at your uniform.
"I wear this every day."
"Doesn't mean you don't look pretty." You rolled your eyes through a grin, glancing around to see if your manager was watching before leaning over the counter to peck him on the lips.
“The usual?” You asked, already putting it into the system. He hums in approval, sliding his credit card onto the counter.
“How’s business?”
“Torturously slow.” Clark chuckles as you hand his card back. He leans against the counter, chatting idly as you make the drinks. Too soon, he’s leaving, parting with another kiss, heading back to the daily planet and leaving you to your boredom.
An hour or two passes and there’s a few more customers inside, sitting at the tables. The bell above the door jingles and you recite the greeting that’s been burned into the fabric of your brain. You’ve caught yourself saying it when you answer your phone occasionally. Why? You’re not sure.
“Welcome to Grinders, what can I get you?” You glanced up, straightening immediately, eyes wide, when you see the man in the doorway.
He looks otherworldly. Like… half man, half robot. Or rather, thirty percent man, seventy percent robot. Metal coats his arms, legs, and half of his face. In place of hands, he has two powerful looking blasters, one of which he raises to point at you.
You duck behind the counter as he shoots, the impact destroying the wall behind you as you cover your head.
You groaned, “I don’t get paid enough for this.”
–
Clark was trying to focus on his work. Truly, he was. But it was impossible when he kept hearing snickers and sneaky muttering behind him. He ran a hand through his hair, just about ready to lock himself in the bathroom so he could finish when Lombard wheeled over, bumping the back of his chair into the edge of Clark’s desk.
“Soo… when are you going to pop the question?”
“What? What question?” Clark balked.
“You know…” Steve prompted, grinning.
“Well, I’m not proposing, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“No! You- you’re asking your girlfriend to move in with you.”
“Wha- how did you know that!?” Clark's head whipped around, making sure no one was listening. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone in the office yet. Frankly, he hadn’t planned on telling any of them until it was solidified.
He had started to plan, though, finding inspo pictures, looking at listings online in case you wanted a whole new place
“We found your little project. Well, actually it was all Lois. Her and Jimmy were snooping and I had nothing to do with it…” He continues talking but Clark tunes it out, turning around to find Lois and Jimmy huddled together, giggling like a couple of gossiping schoolgirls.
“You two…” He trailed off, glaring at them.
“It really wasn’t that hard, Clark. I mean, you left your monitor on and the tab was open. You were practically begging us to find it.”
“Unbelievable. It really is the ones you trust.”
“So when are you going to do it?” Jimmy asked.
“I- you’re- that’s none of your business!”
“Guys, guys, look at this.” Cat rushed in, grabbing the remote and flicking on the tv. The news reporter was speaking but Clark didn’t hear a thing because on the screen was a blurry iphone video of the coffeehouse you worked at, part of it on fire, a hole blown through the other half.
You could see a glimpse of a figure in the video through the window of the building before he turns, staring directly into the camera, raising an arm and sending a blast of energy at it. Then the video ends.
“Wait, that’s right across the street.” Jimmy said, the crew rushing to the window. Clark can feel his heart pounding in his ears as he stands, easily slipping away to switch his alter identity.
Soon, Superman is flying out to the street where the man stood, sending blasts at everything he could find, a dumpster in an alleyway, a painting on a window, a passing car.
Superman could see a fire inside the coffeehouse, the furniture destroyed, but he couldn’t see you.
“Hey buddy!” He calls, making the robot turn around. “I think you’ve done enough destruction.” The man raises his metal covered arm, sending a shot directly into Superman’s chest. He’s knocked backward, though he quickly recovers, flying back into the fight.
So far, the man hadn’t said a word. Clark didn’t even know if he was from this planet and it seemed he wasn’t going to find out anytime soon as the man sent another blast at him.
–
Smoke filled the air, curling in tendrils around you. You were hiding in the backroom, unsure if the robot was still out there or not. The fire in the front of the shop was growing, bright orange flames licking at the bottom of the door.
You pushed yourself further into the corner, covering your mouth with the crook of your elbow. Maybe, if you waited long enough, someone would notice and call the fire department.
Either that or the flames would eat through the door, swallowing you whole and burning you to a crisp. Let’s hope it’s the former.
You don’t know how long you sat there waiting, eyes watering, curled into the corner before you heard your name. A faint shout from the front of the store.
“In here!” You called, voice hoarse. The door burst open, revealing Superman, in all his glory. He stepped through the smoke like the superhero he is, scanning the room for you.
When he found you in the corner, he crouched down, checking you over before lifting you into his arms, using his super speed to get you out of the building as fast as possible.
“Are you okay?” He asks, stood in the middle of the street, you cradled in his arms.
“Yeah, I’m fine… you can put me down now.” He flustered immediately, setting you on the ground with an incoherent mumble. Clark looks around before leading you away to a more private area away from prying eyes.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine.” You brushed him off.
“Honey,”
“What happened to the-”
“Look at me.” He takes your chin in his hand, looking into your eyes. A thin sheen of soot lines your brow and there’s a small wheeze each time you exhale.
“I’m fine, Clark. Promise. Well, I mean, I’m out of a job and my purse was in there somewhere, but-” Before you can finish, Clark is off in a flash, leaving a gust of wind in his stead. The next moment, he’s back, your purse in his hand.
“It’s a little… crispy, but the contents of it might be okay.” He holds it out to you like a cat bringing their owner a dead mouse.
“... Thank you.” You said slowly, holding the purse delicately between two fingers, as if it might suddenly turn into ash if met with too much pressure.
“Do you need me to take you home?” Superman lifts you into his arms again, flying you back to your apartment and leaving his coworkers to wonder where Clark went.
Maybe now was a good time to ‘pop the question’ seeing as it’ll be a bit harder for you to pay rent now. Clark was always happy to take care of you.
♡ summary: spencer is a good husband and a good dad
wc: 1.4k
based on this request
It had become a ritual, Spencer greeting you after work with an apron on, a glass of wine in his hand that he handed you, and a sweet kiss on the lips before he guided you to the kitchen table to sit.
The kitchen smelled delightfully of spices and meat and you couldn’t wait for the dish to hit the table. Spencer had been practicing cooking lately and, setting his mind to it, he’d gotten really good.
He was still a little meticulous about recipes and getting the exact right amount of all the ingredients, but so far, everything had been delicious. Well, except for the burnt banana pancakes and the undercooked brownies.
“Welcome home, angel.” Spencer pressed the glass into your hand, dipping down to kiss you, more passionately than you expected.
“What’s gotten into you? How much wine have you had, Spence? You know it makes you bonkers horny.”
“Only one glass! And it’s not the wine, I just missed you.” He defends, pulling you closer into another kiss. You’d been on a case for the past week with little to no time to call Spencer.
Ever since he’d left the BAU to teach, he’d more or less taken on the role of a… housewife. He cooked, cleaned, did all of the shopping, did the laundry, and took care of you after work.
Now, it’s not like you didn’t do anything around the house. When you were home, you did little things like dishes or dusting or sweeping, but often you were too busy with cases or files or even just catching up on sleep.
It’s not like your husband minded. He was happy to take on this role and take care of you like this.
“I missed you too.” He brought you to the dining table like always heading back to the kitchen to finish up.
“How was the case?” He calls from the stove as you kick your feet up on the other chair.
“It wasn’t too bad, actually. I mean, of course it was bad, but, well- you know what I mean.” He hums in agreement. Soon, he is bringing dishes over to the table and sitting next to you.
“It looks amazing, Spencer.” You said, eager to dig in, and Spencer felt a blush rise on his cheeks.
“Thank you.”
“How’s teaching going? How are your students?”
“Uh, good. There’s one, um, Jeremy, he’s incredibly smart. He excels at everything. The only problem is that I feel like he’s not being challenged by the standard curriculum.”
“Then give him something more challenging.”
“But then I worry about the other students falling behind or- or maybe they’ll think I’m playing favorites, or-”
“Spence, I’m sure they’ll be fine. They’re college students aren’t they?” You placed a hand over his in comfort.
“You think so?”
“Definitely.” You finish the rest of the meal in quiet conversation before Spencer stands up, taking your plates to the sink. You followed, intending to help out but getting a little distracted when he rolls up his sleeves.
“Thank you for making dinner tonight.” You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Of course I do. My pretty little househusband.” You cooed, making Spencer blush again, ducking his head to hide his smile.
“Househusband?”
“Yeah. You don’t think that’s accurate?”
“I- I don’t know.” You chuckled, grabbing a dish towel to help dry the dishes. “Angel, you don’t need to do this, go lay down, you've had a long week.”
“It’s alright, Spence, I can-”
“No, come on. Go rest.” He ushered you out of the kitchen, grabbing the towel to smack your behind. You laughed, raising your hands in defeat as you headed to the bedroom.
You changed into pajamas, climbing into bed to wait for your husband, who thankfully doesn’t take long. Spencer is immediately on you, curling into your lap, a nightly ritual of head scratches while his arms wrap around your thigh, gently kissing your bare skin.
“I’ve been thinking about something.” He murmurs.
“Uh oh.” You teased, chuckling softly. “What is it?” He turns his head to look up at you, brown doe eyes wide and pleading.
“Kids.”
“Are you gonna be the one getting pregnant and giving birth to them?” You asked rhetorically, scoffing a bit.
“I would if I could. Maybe one day science will figure out the logistics of… that.” You just hummed, continuing to scratch at his hair before he sat up.
“Look, I know it’s a lot-”
“Oh yeah?”
“Just- I think it’s time. We’ve been dancing around this conversation for months.”
“Spence… can we talk tomorrow? I’m exhausted and I just want to go to sleep.”
He sighs. “Okay.” He drops back into your lap, your fingers tangling in his hair again.
–
Three more hours. Three hours until you could see Spencer again. Work had been long and tedious, files upon files stacked on your desk. It was all so monotonous, you were sure you were going insane.
You missed having Spencer sat right across from you, simple entertainment five feet away. Just being able to look at him made all the stress of work go away. Now all you had was a few pictures strewn about your desk.
The door to the bullpen opened but you paid no mind until you heard Penelope’s squeal. And when you turned around, a smile immediately grew on your face and the tension in your shoulders released. Your husband was here.
He smiled, waving at you from across the room where Penelope was holding him hostage to coo at the baby in his stroller. Baby Jude. About seven months old and already the absolute love of your life. The sweetest little human being you’d ever set your eyes on.
You stood up from your desk, striding over to your family. Spencer greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, his hand at your waist.
“Hi, angel.”
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I thought it might be nice to visit. Also, Penelope wanted to see Jude again.”
“How could I not? He is such a little cutie patootie.” She says, grinning widely as she stroked the little boy's cheek, delighting in his giggles.
Spencer was the picture of a stay at home dad, diaper bag hanging off his elbow, hair slightly tousled from lack of grooming time, loose threads on his sweater from the baby clutching it in his fist. You made a mental note to buy him a new one. Or maybe you’d take up knitting. Yeah right. Like you’d have time to do that.
He was wearing his glasses which meant that either he’d been too tired to put contacts in, or Jude had knocked them into the toilet again. You reached up to fix the way they sat on his nose, slightly crooked, and brushed a hand through his hair as well.
He smiled fondly at you, hand squeezing your hip. Jude babbled, his little chubby arms reaching into the air as he looked around.
“Mama.” Of course he’d already started speaking, he was an advanced baby, I mean look at who his dad is. You rounded the stroller, bending to unbuckle him and lift him into your arms.
“Hi, baby! How’s my little Jude?” You murmured amorously, bouncing him gently. He laughed, his hand fisting the fabric of your shirt.
The rest of the team flocks to you like geese and Jude a piece of bread. Well, Spencer would tell you that actually, Geese aren’t supposed to eat bread as it can cause digestive issues and-
“Can I hold him?” Emily asks.
“Uh- could you use hand sanitizer first?” Spencer asks. He digs in the diaper bag to find the little travel sanitizer he’d bought. Jude is passed over to Emily, then JJ, then Derek before Hotch walks past. He paused on his way to the kitchenette, stopping to figure out what the distraction was.
“Reid, it’s nice to see you again. How’s paternity leave?”
“It’s great. Spending time with Jude has been amazing. He’s progressing rather fast, actually.”
“That’s good to hear.” Hotch nods. “How is the lack of sleep treating you?” Spencer just chuckled. Being a father himself, he knew exactly what you and Spencer were going through. The sleepless nights, the stress of the job you have combined with the stress of just having a child, but he also knew it was all worth it.
When Jude giggled again, the three of you looked over, surely all thinking the same thing.
(4, I , 𓆟) taunting Aaron all day until he can’t take it anymore, pulling you into his office and making sure your quiet 🤗
thank you for the request! here it is :)
build a fic choices: ꒰ 4 ꒱ doggy, ꒰ I ꒱ covering their mouth to quieten them, ꒰ 𓆟 ꒱ a work office
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, spanking, reader wears a skirt
wc: 1.4k
You knew how to get Aaron going. You knew the exact movement of your hips, the precise inflection in your voice, the perfect angle to lean over his desk to make his brain go haywire.
He knew that you knew that, but that didn’t make it any less easy to get to him. And it didn’t make him any less likely to fall prey to your flirtations.
It was your secret, but not really all that secret, tool to get whatever you wanted from your boyfriend. As for how often you used it, well… that’s irrelevant.
It seemed Aaron would be falling victim to it today, as his gaze found you in the bullpen through the window of his office once again. He really should shut his blinds if he wanted to get any work done today.
You were sitting on Spencer’s desk, listening to the young man rant about whatever it is that he was hyperfixating on currently. Now, Hotch wasn’t a jealous man, per se, but when he was forced to sit and watch you laugh at Reid’s joke (you being the only one on the team to really understand it) smile at him, and toss your hair over your shoulder, he felt a tinge of… something, deep down.
He sighed, getting up to get his fifth coffee of the day, which really meant pouring out the one that had gone cold and refilling his mug with stale office coffee that was never as good as the ones you made him at home. The only reason he kept going to the kitchen was so he could maybe catch a snippet of your conversation or even receive a smile from you across the room. How desperate could he be?
But, not only did he get a grin from you, you actually left Spencer’s desk to meet him in the kitchen. Take that, Reid.
“Whatcha up to?” You asked, leaning against the counter, all sweet smelling and perfectly styled. He gives you a sidelong glance, eyes narrowed.
“Why?” The grin on your face alone was enough to make him skeptical of your intentions.
“I just figured that, maybe you could use a break.” You walk your fingers up his arm, smoothing down his collar when they reach it. He grabs your wrist, staring into your eyes scoldingly.
“Behave.”
“Just saying.” You raise your hands, feigning innocence with a very contradicting grin. When he goes to put the coffee pot back, you hold out your empty mug. “Could you fill mine too?” Your voice is so sugary Aaron’s convinced you’ve given him a sweet tooth.
He starts pouring the coffee when you reach out, turning his face to you with your fingertips on his chin.
“You’ve got a little ink there.” You murmured, thumb wiping at a spot at the corner of his mouth, definitely not just looking for a reason to touch him. After a moment, you glanced down, a grin spreading across your lips. “I think you overfilled it a bit, hon.”
Aaron glances down, realizing that your mug is overflowing onto the counter, quickly shoving the near-empty coffee pot back and snatching up the paper towels.
You chuckled as he wiped up the spill, grabbing your coffee and heading back to your desk, putting a little extra sway in your hips.
–
Aaron couldn’t take it anymore. All day you’d teased him, coming up to his office an excessive amount of times, texting him pictures that he assumed you’d kept hidden until now, waiting for the right moment.
He’s had enough of the temptation and now… he was going to make you sorry. He stepped out of his office as the team was packing up to go home, calling out your name.
“See me in my office.” He turned, not waiting for you to follow, though he knew you would. The blinds were snapped shut as you entered, hands clasped behind your back.
“You wanted to see me sir?” You used the title you knew would get him going.
“Shut the door.” The demand caught you a bit of guard, but you obeyed
“Did you need something, Aaron?” You purred, playing up the innocent act. He didn’t say anything, just beckoned you closer with a crook of his finger.
You rounded his desk, standing chest to chest with him, reaching out to play with his tie, loosening it teasingly. But instead of scolding you, he yanked the tie over his head tossing it aside.
Suddenly, he grabbed your hips, spinning you around and pushing you down against the desk. You gasped as he kicked your legs wider, leaning down over you, his big palm pressed against the wood next to your head.
“You’ve had this coming. Thinking you can torture me like that.”
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“No? You don’t remember the harassment in the kitchen? Or cornering me in the storage closet? Or how about flashing me every chance you get?”
“Oh… that.” You said cheekily.
“Yeah, that.” He murmured, leaning down to brush all your hair over one shoulder, nipping at your earlobe. “I’m waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“An apology.” He kissed your cheek, down your jaw.
“Wha- I, uh… I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’re so easy to rile up. And I’m sorry that, because you’re a man, you have such a visible sign of arousal.” You teased again, wiggling your hips back into said arousal.
“That didn’t sound genuine.” His hand leaves your body, only to land with a sharp smack on your ass. You yelped and his other hand slid around your mouth, just in case there were still other agents lingering in the office. “Try again.” He lifted his hand just enough for you to speak.
“My deepest, sincerest, apologies, sir.”
“Better.” Aaron hums, his palm soothing over your ass before bunching up the hem of your skirt, tugging it up your thighs. You let out a gasp as he shoved the fabric up to the small of your back, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.
You turned your head to grin at him over your shoulder, watching the way his eyes zoned in on your pretty lacy underwear. The pair you’d worn just for him, because you knew you’d end up in this position one way or another.
“But I don’t think just an apology is enough.” He delivers another smack to your ass, relishing in the moan you let out, muffled into his palm, before tugging your panties down.
You hear the clink of his belt being shucked off behind you and his trousers pushed down, then his hands are on you again.
The sound you let out when he first pushes into you is loud, unabashed and his hand wraps around the lower half of your face again. If Rossi somehow heard this, Aaron would never hear the end of it.
“Quiet, sweetheart. We’re still at work.” You say something he can’t quite make out.
His thrusts start slow, filling you up deliciously until he bottoms out inside you, hips flush with yours. Your eyes roll back as another desperate moan leaves your lips.
Aaron’s hand on your back pushes you further into the desk, grunting his cock splitting you open. You babble something into his palm that he doesn’t catch, and he removes his hand.
“What was that, honey?” He leans over you, chest against your back.
“I’m close.” You whined. He starts kissing your neck, biting down gently.
“I’m almost there.” Aaron buries his face in your neck, his body draped over yours, as his thrusts become sloppy, his length twitching inside you.
Your orgasm rocks through you like a freight train, your legs shaking trying to hold you up until you just slump onto the desk. Aaron’s not far behind, a higher pitched groan leaving his mouth as he releases inside you.
You let your forehead rest against the wood as he stands, righting his slacks. Aaron, being the gentleman he is, pulls down your skirt, smoothing a hand down over your ass.
“You ready to go?” He asked, almost casually. You stare at him over your shoulder.
“I think you’re going to have to carry me out of here.” He chuckles, peeking out of the blinds to make sure the office is empty.
“Alright. Come on.” He pats your bum, waiting for you to stand before sweeping you into his arms. “You’re lucky I love you so much.” He grumbled playfully, carrying you out of his office. You grinned, kissing his jaw.
for the build a fic, i’d like to request 2, B, 𓃱 for spencer, pretty please <3 and i think it would be so cute if they’re sharing a room for a case, and maybe they’re secretly dating, and they have some soft morning sex, before they have to get ready to go back to work <3 love ur writing <3
this is cutee!! here it is, hope you enjoy :)
build a fic choices: ꒰ 2 ꒱ spooning, ꒰ B ꒱ teasing a nipple between fingertips, ꒰ 𓃱 ꒱ a seedy motel room
warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, female descriptors
wc: 0.7k
You’ve been awake for three hours. Three hours of laying on your back, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the sun to rise. Your boyfriend, unbeknownst to the rest of the team, was asleep next to you, his head buried into your neck.
You’ve been dating for a few months now and decided not to tell anyone. Lucky for you, the two of you had already been pretty close before that so nothing seemed very different when you got together.
Normally, you’d share a motel room but this case you’d been split up, meaning Spencer had to sneak across the hall in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, you’d both been too tired to do anything other than cuddle, so this morning, you were itching to feel his hands on you.
Spencer let out a soft hum as his eyes cracked open, his hands pulling you closer.
“How long’ve you been awake?” He mumbled, voice slurred with sleep.
“Not long.” You fibbed, turning on your side, back pressed against his chest.
“Why aren’t you asleep?”
“Just couldn’t.” He didn’t respond, instead pressing a kiss to your jawline.
“What time ‘s’it?” You strained your neck to see the clock on the bedside table.
“Six.”
“So we’ve got about thirty minutes then?” You looked over your shoulder at him.
“Thirty minutes for what?” He just kissed you again, trailing along your neck. He stopped at your pulse point for a moment, feeling the thrum under his lips before sucking a mark into the skin.
“Spence.” You breathed as his hand found its way under your cotton sleep shirt, unabashedly palming your breast.
“Shh. Just relax.” He murmured, his thumb and forefinger pinching your hardened nipple between them.
He moved his fingertips down your skin until they reached the waistband of your shorts, slipping beneath it. A soft moan left your lips when his digits finally made their way to that spot between your legs, dipping inside you.
Your head fell back onto his shoulder, leaning your body into his as he lazily pumped his fingers.
“Spencer, I need- please, I need more.” You said breathily, starting to sway your hips forward to meet his hand. Spencer immediately understands what you want, reaching down with his other hand to tug down his sleep pants, freeing his cock.
It’s a blur as he pulls your shorts all the way down, inserting himself inside you. You let out a shaky gasp when he pulls you back, back pressed against his chest.
He wants to stay here like this, fall back asleep tucked into you and wake up still there, your walls fluttering around him, but you don’t have the time. So he starts moving, thrusting deeply, slowly.
You’re quiet, not wanting to wake the rest of the team, but a few faint moans sleep through when Spencer hits that spot deep inside you.
“Fuck, you’re so- so good. So perfect.” Spencer murmurs, his sounds of pleasure flowing right into your ear as he tucks his head in your neck.
You don’t know how long it is before you’re reaching the edge, but soon it’s upon you and you have no choice but to tumble over, your body trembling in your boyfriend’s arms.
You’re sure you blacked out at some point and when you come to, Spencer is moaning and spilling himself inside you, twitching faintly before he pulls out, rolling onto his back. A few seconds later, he speaks, turning his head to look at you.
“We have to get ready for work.” You sighed.
“Right. Work.” He lays there for another moment before pushing himself off the bed, smiling down at you softly.
“You know, it’ll be quicker if we shower together.” You perk up at that.
“Not a bad idea, doctor.” He bends to take your hands, pulling you to your feet.It was not, in fact, quicker to shower together and you were both fifteen minutes late to the precinct.
♡ summary: clark comes home to you at night, all battered and bruised. What happens when he doesn’t have the sun to heal him?
pairing: clark kent x fem!reader
warnings: mention of injuries and blood, suggestive intimacy, wound care
wc: 1.0k
You sat on his lap on the couch, pressing a damp cloth over the cut on his face. His hands were on your hips, knuckles bloodied, something you’d have to tend to next.
It was kind of touching to know that even superman could get hurt sometimes. It humanized him a bit more, not that he needed that in your eyes.
“Now… don’t get me wrong, honey, I love the little spandex, but-”
“Don’t call them that.” He grumbles ignoring the butterflies he’s getting from your finger fiddling with the thigh opening of his suit. Well, maybe a little more than butterflies.
“That’s what they are.”
“Yeah, I know they’re spandex, but you don’t have to call them little.”
“Okay- anyway, they’re cute and all, but I just think-”
“Well, I don’t know if cute is the right word either.” Clark cuts you off again and you send him a glare.
“Can I just finish my sentence?” He has the decency to look sheepish as he goes silent. “I think they could stand to have a bit more… protection, no?” He hesitates a second, making sure you’re finished speaking before he answers.
“Well, the suit isn’t really where I get my armor from, it’s more that I’m superhuman and-”
“No, I understand the logistics of it all, I just think a little more safety would be nice, so things like this don’t happen.”
“But then I wouldn’t have a reason to have you on my lap.” You laughed.
“Oh Clark.” You swept his hair back from his face, smiling down at him. “You don’t need a reason for that, baby.” He grins, his hand squeezing your hip three times. I. Love. You.
“I wish I’d known that earlier.” You smiled, but it soon turned somber as you looked down, focusing on cleaning his wound.
“I just… I worry, you know? I know you’re like… invincible, but… I’m scared that one of these times, you’re just- you’re not going to-” Your voice wobbles and you cut yourself off with another sigh.
“Hey, hey…” Clark shifts, sitting up more and reaching up to hold your cheek. “It’s okay. I promise, I won’t let anything like that happen.”
“But, you can’t know that, Clark. You just can’t. What if someone gets their hands on some kryptonite, and-”
“Hey, listen to me.” His voice is firm and he holds your face in both hands, making you look in his eyes. “I’m going to be just fine. You don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff, okay?” You nod and he drops his hands, letting them intertwine with yours.
“Clark-” He leans forward, kissing you before you can say anything else. Your nose brushes against his as he tilts his head, his hands sliding down your back, grazing the skin above your pants. “I’m here. I’m right here.” He murmurs against your lips.
You pull him closer by his jaw, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. He winces when you bite down and you quickly pull back.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you were- are you okay?” You reach out, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip gently but he doesn’t look pained at all. He looks rather captivated, actually. By you.
“Oh, I’m fine.” He smiles. “Actually, I feel a lot better. Why didn’t you tell me you had the power to heal through kisses?” He teases and you roll your eyes through a grin.
“Stop.” You said weakly, smacking his chest. He lifts a hand to where you just hit, feigning injury.
“Agh, that hurt! I think I’m gonna need another kiss to make it better.”
“Clark!” You whined, blushing.
“Sweetheart!” He mimicked your tone.
“Have you got any cuts under this or just bruises?” You asked, dragging your nails down the front of his suit.
“How about I just show you what’s under this?” He flirts, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
“As much as I would like that,” You send him a pointed look. “It would only distract me. And I’d like to stay more concerned with your wellbeing right now, than… something else.”
“Honey… it’s sunrise in, what, six hours?” He spares a glance at the clock. “And then I’ll have to get up and be ready for work, by which time I’ll be healed already.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just think… the only thing that would make me feel better right now, is… you.”
“I’m right here.”
“You know what I mean.” His voice is soft, sultry even.
“Clark… just for my own peace of mind, could I just clean your hands up, please?”
He sighs. “Alright, sweetheart.” He holds one hand out to you, letting you soak the cloth in the bucket before gently going over his knuckles with it.
When you finish with one hand, you switch to the other, cleaning until the water is tinted red. Until Clark’s hands look like the hands you know again.
The hands that cook you delicious dinners, or, technically breakfasts. The hands that rub your shoulders after a long day at work, even if his has been longer. The hands that caress your skin in the dark of night, that map every inch of your body with his soft but callused fingertips.
“Feel better?” He said and you chuckled.
“I’m supposed to be asking you that.”
“Well, I mean… I never did get my kiss.” He lifts his hand a bit more and you grin, bending down to peck each knuckle before moving back to the other hand.
You turn his hand over, gently kissing the pulse point of his wrist, moving up his forearm with your lips. You trail up his bicep, to his neck, then his jawline and finally, his lips. He hums into the kiss, his hands finding your hips once again.
“Finished with your assessment, doctor?” Clark teases.
“Affirmative.” You joked back, leaning in to kiss him again. There were still six hours left until the yellow sun came out, but he didn’t care. All he needed right now was the sweet comfort of his girl on his lap, her hands in his hair, and he’d be a happy man.
why doesn't this fic have thousands of likes? It's so underrated. It's such a cute, tender and funny story. feels like people gathering in the kitchen while the rest of the house is having a party))
♡ summary: when you get badly injured during a heist, kaz is forced to drag you out, unsure of whether or not you'll make it
warnings: established relationship, blood, gore kinda
wc: 1.1k
based on this request
The job was a mess from the start. Jesper mistimed the distraction, resulting in you and Kaz getting caught. Wylan’s bombs from plan C never ended up going off, and you still hadn’t found the documents Kaz was looking for.
And to top it all off, the owner of the mansion had come home earlier than your timeline had established, sending his guards after you.
About a week ago, you had robbed this same man, slipping easily past his defenses. It seems he’s upped his security since then.
You and Kaz had been in the office when you were caught, going through the rich man’s desk. You weren’t exactly sure what Kaz was looking for, one of his worst traits was not filling you in on his full plan, but you were trying your best to help.
“Have you found them yet?”
“If I had, we wouldn’t still be here.” He snapped and you sent him a look. He had the decency to look at least a little apologetic. Finally, he snatched the documents from a false bottom in the desk drawer, shoving them in his pocket, but that’s when security kicked the door down, blocking the doorway.
Luckily, Kaz had a backup plan. He grabbed your wrists, tugging you out the secret exit through the bookshelf, racing against the thundering footsteps behind you.
You didn’t feel the pain at first, the slash across your back sending you stumbling to the ground. They were fabrikators, sharp shards embedded in their fingertips as amplifiers, but acting more like claws.
Kaz turned, eyes widening as he reached for his gun. You don’t pay much attention to the fight, bodies dropping to the ground all around you, but you feel the sting now, blood seeping through the back of your shirt.
Kaz slammed one of the guards into the wall, knocking him out with a firm hit when he heard a sharp cry. When he whipped around, you were pinned to the ground, one of the security sinking his claws into your back.
You hear the shot go off and the thud of the body hitting the floor next to you before you're being pulled up by your bicep.
“Come on. We have to go.” You whimpered as he pulled you to your knees.
“Ah- Kaz, Kaz, I can’t.” Your voice was a few octaves higher, strained in pain.
“Yes you can, come on.” He urges.
“Just go without me.”
“No. That’s not happening.” He tugs you to your feet, blood dripping down to the ground.
“Kaz…”
“Don’t do this. I’ve got a safehouse not far from here, you can make it.” Your breath was shallowing, back stinging.
Kaz half dragged you to the front door, and before you knew it you were outside in the dark streets of Ketterdam.
“Stay with me, schat. Stay with me.” He begged. His skin tingled, overwhelmed by the feel of your skin even through his gloves. He felt chills rising on his body, desperately trying to control himself.
By the time the safehouse is in view, his breathing is heavy and your feet are dragging on the ground.
“We’re almost there, just hang on.” Kaz’s limp was pronounced and you weren’t sure where his cane went, but his grip was tight around your waist.
You were fading in and out of consciousness as Kaz struggled to get the door open, his hand shaking. He dragged you inside, carefully depositing you on the rickety wooden bed in the small room.
He can’t think of anything reassuring to say in this moment so he rushes to get the first aid kit. He wouldn’t be able to find a healer in time, at least not before stopping the bleeding.
After arranging you on your stomach, Kaz cuts the back of your shirt open, revealing your wounds. He’s taken aback by how torn up your back is.
Your eyes are closed, skin pale, but you’re still breathing and he’s not sure if you’re awake or not. It doesn’t matter right now because he’s scrambling to get the sutures.
One by one, he stitches up each slash across the expanse of your back, your whimpers and cries of pain invading his thoughts. The water is nearly at his chest now, sweat on his brow, his hands shaking. He can’t breathe. He’s going to pass out but if he does, who’s going to help you?
That thought is the only thing that makes him push through, along with the vivid images of what might happen if this doesn’t work.
This is it. She won’t wake up after this. This is the last thing she’ll ever experience and it’ll be the pain I’m giving her. I should have been quicker. I should have foreseen this. I should have planned for this.
The bleeding has stopped and your back is bandaged but you’re unconscious, all of the pained sounds from your mouth gone. Kaz takes a moment to gather himself, heading to the sink to splash water on his face.
His hands grip the basin tightly, his gaze finding you in the mirror. He’d only known you for about two years and yet, for some reason, you were the person he trusted most in the world.
He held you close to his chest like merchants hold their riches. Neither of you are really sure when you started dating, it just happened. Over time you’d started spending more time in his office, he looked out for you, you shared intimate touches in the shadows of the nighttime.
It was like a mutual silent agreement that you were his and he was yours. But now, just when he might lose you, he wished he’d said it out loud. He wished he’d told you how deeply he felt for you. How much he craved your touch, your voice, your quiet reassurances in his ear.
Kaz turned away from his reflection, striding back to the bed where you lay, breathing slowly. Too slowly. What he wouldn’t give to have Nina here right now. Ghezen, that hurt to say. He needed help, a healer, a heartrender, anyone.
“Stay with me, schat. I can’t-” His voice broke and he cut himself off, looking down. “I can’t do this without you.” He spoke, barely above a whisper.
He had to go find a healer. He was running out of time and he could sit here any longer, as much as he wanted to. He’d pay whatever they asked, as long as they bring back his girl.
Hi, hope you’re having a good day and staying hydrated! I had a request for Kaz if you’re still taking them 👉👈. It’s a bit of an angsty one but basically I had an idea that reader and Kaz with an established relationship are on a job but it goes wrong and ends up with reader’s back getting torn to shreds and it’s up in the air whether or not reader makes it. Just angsty, tears, and begging. Pls and thank you ❤️
yes! I need more Kaz requests in my inbox so thank you for this! here it is, hope you enjoy :)
♡ summary: your boyfriend 'helps' you build your new Ikea bed frame
warnings: suggestive intimacy and comments, kissing, groping, kind of fade to black
wc: 0.7k
“Honey, can you pass me the screws?” When you didn’t get a reply from James, you turned to look at him. He sat criss cross next to you on the ground, his elbow resting on his knee, chin in hand as he looked at you.
“Hmm?”
“The screws, James.” You pointed to the small package of screws on the other side of him.
“Oh,” He grabs one, holding it out to you, but when you reach for it, he pulls it back, leaning forward with a flirty grin. “I wanna screw you, lovie.”
“Just hold the pole.” You rolled your eyes, snatching the screw from his hand. He snickers, reaching out to steady the half-built frame so you can screw it together. “Okay, what’s next?”
“What?”
“The instructions, James!” You exclaimed through laughter.
“Oh!, Sorry, sorry, ‘m just distracted by your gorgeous face, darling.” He grabs the paper manual, finding the step you were on. “Okay, next we need to put the bars in the middle of the base.”
You nodded, hunting for the right screws. You maneuver James to hold the bar up so you can screw it in.
“Woah! Careful there, lovely, you almost drilled my finger off.” He teases even though the drill had been nowhere near his finger.
“Don’t be dramatic, James. Hold it straighter.” He scoffs.
“Is this really all I am to you? A machine to prop up your poles for you?” He asks theatrically, sending a pout at you when you roll your eyes playfully.
“Shh, honey, I need to focus.” He balks, considering dropping the pole to make a point.
“Unbelievable! My own girlfriend!” You couldn’t stifle your laugh, setting the drill down as your shoulders shake.
“James, we need to finish this! I have other things I need to do today!” You exclaimed, the grin still present on your face. He grumbles something under his breath but he lets you continue screwing. Even when there’s a different type of screwing he’d rather be doing.
When you finish that, you roll the slatted bed base down over the midbeam, and just like that, you’re done. James helps you grab the mattress and settle it over the finished frame.
“Finally.” James groans, flopping onto the mattress. You stand at the edge of the bed, hands on your hips as you stare down at him. “Come on, darling, let’s test it out, shall we?” He hooks his foot between your legs, tugging you forward.
You kneel on the bed and you lean over his knee to kiss him. James pushes himself up on his elbows to meet your lips. He drops his leg to tug you forward by your waist, rolling you over onto your back.
You moaned softly when he knee pressed between your legs, your arms winding behind his neck.
“So pretty… you’re so smart, my love.” He murmurs against your lips before trailing his kisses down your collarbones, tugging at the top of your tank top.
“Jamie… I have other chores to do.” You protested weakly, letting his kiss between the valley of your breasts.
“Do them later. You have all weekend.” James said, his hands gliding up the hem of your shirt, cupping your chest in his palms.
“I want to get them done now so I can relax the rest of the weekend.”
“Alright… but don’t you have time for just a little break?” He pulls off of your chest to look down at you.
“How little?” He grins.
“I can do ten minutes.”
“Five.”
“Seven.”
“Deal.” You smiled and he leaned back down, his lips meeting yours again. Eight and a half minutes and two orgasms later, you were laying next to each other on the bare mattress.
“Well… I think it’s a good frame. Very sturdy.” James breathed.
“Yeah…” You nodded, still catching your breath. “I think it might need some more… testing out.” You turned your head to look at him and he was already staring at you.
“I think that’s a good idea.” Safe to say, you didn’t get any other chores done that day.
♡ summary: clark comes home to you at night, all battered and bruised. What happens when he doesn’t have the sun to heal him?
warnings: mention of injuries and blood, suggestive intimacy, wound care
wc: 1.0k
You sat on his lap on the couch, pressing a damp cloth over the cut on his face. His hands were on your hips, knuckles bloodied, something you’d have to tend to next.
It was kind of touching to know that even superman could get hurt sometimes. It humanized him a bit more, not that he needed that in your eyes.
“Now… don’t get me wrong, honey, I love the little spandex, but-”
“Don’t call them that.” He grumbles ignoring the butterflies he’s getting from your finger fiddling with the thigh opening of his suit. Well, maybe a little more than butterflies.
“That’s what they are.”
“Yeah, I know they’re spandex, but you don’t have to call them little.”
“Okay- anyway, they’re cute and all, but I just think-”
“Well, I don’t know if cute is the right word either.” Clark cuts you off again and you send him a glare.
“Can I just finish my sentence?” He has the decency to look sheepish as he goes silent. “I think they could stand to have a bit more… protection, no?” He hesitates a second, making sure you’re finished speaking before he answers.
“Well, the suit isn’t really where I get my armor from, it’s more that I’m superhuman and-”
“No, I understand the logistics of it all, I just think a little more safety would be nice, so things like this don’t happen.”
“But then I wouldn’t have a reason to have you on my lap.” You laughed.
“Oh Clark.” You swept his hair back from his face, smiling down at him. “You don’t need a reason for that, baby.” He grins, his hand squeezing your hip three times. I. Love. You.
“I wish I’d known that earlier.” You smiled, but it soon turned somber as you looked down, focusing on cleaning his wound.
“I just… I worry, you know? I know you’re like… invincible, but… I’m scared that one of these times, you’re just- you’re not going to-” Your voice wobbles and you cut yourself off with another sigh.
“Hey, hey…” Clark shifts, sitting up more and reaching up to hold your cheek. “It’s okay. I promise, I won’t let anything like that happen.”
“But, you can’t know that, Clark. You just can’t. What if someone gets their hands on some kryptonite, and-”
“Hey, listen to me.” His voice is firm and he holds your face in both hands, making you look in his eyes. “I’m going to be just fine. You don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff, okay?” You nod and he drops his hands, letting them intertwine with yours.
“Clark-” He leans forward, kissing you before you can say anything else. Your nose brushes against his as he tilts his head, his hands sliding down your back, grazing the skin above your pants. “I’m here. I’m right here.” He murmurs against your lips.
You pull him closer by his jaw, your teeth grazing his bottom lip. He winces when you bite down and you quickly pull back.
“Oh, shit! I’m so sorry, I completely forgot you were- are you okay?” You reach out, your thumb brushing over his bottom lip gently but he doesn’t look pained at all. He looks rather captivated, actually. By you.
“Oh, I’m fine.” He smiles. “Actually, I feel a lot better. Why didn’t you tell me you had the power to heal through kisses?” He teases and you roll your eyes through a grin.
“Stop.” You said weakly, smacking his chest. He lifts a hand to where you just hit, feigning injury.
“Agh, that hurt! I think I’m gonna need another kiss to make it better.”
“Clark!” You whined, blushing.
“Sweetheart!” He mimicked your tone.
“Have you got any cuts under this or just bruises?” You asked, dragging your nails down the front of his suit.
“How about I just show you what’s under this?” He flirts, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
“As much as I would like that,” You send him a pointed look. “It would only distract me. And I’d like to stay more concerned with your wellbeing right now, than… something else.”
“Honey… it’s sunrise in, what, six hours?” He spares a glance at the clock. “And then I’ll have to get up and be ready for work, by which time I’ll be healed already.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I just think… the only thing that would make me feel better right now, is… you.”
“I’m right here.”
“You know what I mean.” His voice is soft, sultry even.
“Clark… just for my own peace of mind, could I just clean your hands up, please?”
He sighs. “Alright, sweetheart.” He holds one hand out to you, letting you soak the cloth in the bucket before gently going over his knuckles with it.
When you finish with one hand, you switch to the other, cleaning until the water is tinted red. Until Clark’s hands look like the hands you know again.
The hands that cook you delicious dinners, or, technically breakfasts. The hands that rub your shoulders after a long day at work, even if his has been longer. The hands that caress your skin in the dark of night, that map every inch of your body with his soft but callused fingertips.
“Feel better?” He said and you chuckled.
“I’m supposed to be asking you that.”
“Well, I mean… I never did get my kiss.” He lifts his hand a bit more and you grin, bending down to peck each knuckle before moving back to the other hand.
You turn his hand over, gently kissing the pulse point of his wrist, moving up his forearm with your lips. You trail up his bicep, to his neck, then his jawline and finally, his lips. He hums into the kiss, his hands finding your hips once again.
“Finished with your assessment, doctor?” Clark teases.
“Affirmative.” You joked back, leaning in to kiss him again. There were still six hours left until the yellow sun came out, but he didn’t care. All he needed right now was the sweet comfort of his girl on his lap, her hands in his hair, and he’d be a happy man.
I'm very curious if you have exactly the right number of requests for theme week to post one per day, or do you also have leftovers from extra requests that you'll still use at some point?
this is a good question! so, to preface, at first, during the time I had allotted to just receive requests, I had only gotten like two and I didn't think I'd have enough to post every day but then as I started posting I did get more requests.
At the end, I think I had one or two leftover that I didn't use but that was mainly because I didn't really have much inspiration or idea what I would do with them (If I really wanted to write it, I probably would have just posted twice in a day).
It's mostly a first come first serve, unless there's one I really like 😅🫣
Hope this answered your question (sorry I rambled so much, tee hee)
