#BUT SHE. PUTS HER WHOLE HEART INTO EVERYTHING. SHE'S SO DEDICATED. SO DEVOTED TO HER FRIENDS!!!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

karatekels · 1 year ago

Note

Hello:) first time with an ask. I have to preface by saying I absolutely love your account and your fics and just everything about what you've created ❤️❤️ may I ask, can you write something about CK Terry falling for a 30 something young woman in an adult class? She's learning and new to karate, yet Terry sees potential and asks if she'd like to grab dinner (or have his chef cook for them), then maybe "train" a little in his private dojo 😉

Thank you so much for your comments – they make my heart sing and make me blush horribly. I’m happy to write this for you – enjoy! ❤️

Shoutout to @terrysilv for helping me brainstorm some ideas for this!

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Legacy

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“Asa!” you cry out, the kiai escaping your lips in a short grunt as you lay into the punching bag with your fists and feet, the bag supported by your sparring partner. “Ya! Isa!”

“Okay okay!” your partner exclaims from behind the bag after awhile. “Jesus Y/N, you’re gonna knock me on my ass – can we take a break?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the bag, helping the man up before moving to your bag to get a drink of water. You were here to put the work in, and intended to do so the entire time, not wanting to waste even a minute.

You had been training with the Cobra Kai dojo for a few months now, and had gotten good; very good. You knew you were rather late to the game, starting to learn karate in your early thirties, but you were determined to prove yourself. You had quickly exceeded the introductory levels of the adult classes, and had worked your way up to the top of the expert class as well, having impressed the senseis of the dojo the whole way.

You didn’t like doing anything halfway – if you were going to learn karate, you were going to do it right, and not stop until you had perfected your skills.

The owner of the dojo, Sensei Terry Silver, walks past you, moving to snap at another pair of students whose form had gotten sloppy. That right there was another reason to do the best you could during these lessons; that man was likely twice your age, and incredibly fit, still able to instill fear in anyone he came across. You knew he was the best in the Valley, and you wanted to get to that level yourself. You wanted to be respected, you wanted to be able to take care of yourself, and karate was the perfect avenue to get you there.

Returning to your punching bag, your partner represses a sigh, bracing himself against the bag once more.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry glides past you, his feet silent on the training mats as he moves to scold a pair of students who were goofing off yet again. Really, how the majority of these people were accepted into the expert-level class baffled him. He’d need to talk to Kim at some point about her selection process.

There was, however, one student in particular that had been able to exceed his expectations…

He circles the dojo discreetly, positioning himself so that he could watch you, seeing you approach the punching bag for another round, fire in your eyes. Your form was perfect, and you were so graceful in your movements he found himself hypnotized.

You had been dedicated to your training since day one; he couldn’t think of anyone (other than himself, of course), who so fully encapsulated the 3 D’s: desire, devotion, discipline. He had taken notice of your beauty immediately, from the moment you entered the expert class, but had dismissed his attraction immediately. He didn’t sleep with students, and he didn’t date students, the work and romance spheres of his life remaining separate by his design.

He'd never had an issue abiding by that rule, until you’d shown up.

The better you got, the harder you trained, the more you wore down his resolve without you even realizing it. You had captivated him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen for anyone this hard. He had tried not to let his attraction for you interfere with his work – if you took offence and left, he would lose his only means of seeing you.

No, he had to play this perfectly, find an opportunity to test the waters with you, find out where you stood. Something away from here, away from everyone else, where he could turn on the charm and bring you around to his way of thinking. He was now a man past middle age; he didn’t have time to waste.

He’d have you eventually.

---

Terry waits until almost everyone else has left the dojo before approaching you. Yet another benefit to your dedication to karate: you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He lets you finish your cool down stretches, then walks over to you.

“Great work today, Y/N,” he compliments, savouring your pleased smile at his praise. You valued his approval; that was something, at least.

“Thank you, Sensei,” you reply, moving to retrieve your water. He follows smoothly behind you, not done with you yet.

“You’ve really improved during your time here,” he continues, determined to draw you into a conversation. “What’s driving you?”

You look over at him as you put your shoes and socks back on, considering the question. You were so contemplative, the type of person that thought things through, and he loved that about you. Everyone seemed so hasty these days, rushing headlong into situations without giving them thought, and it frustrated him to no end.

“I don’t like to do anything halfway,” you say after awhile. “If I’m going to do something, I want to do the best. I want to be the best,” you add, getting more passionate as you speak to him. He finds himself transfixed.

“I see the respect that you command around here, and I’m not a big tall guy like you, and I may never be a sensei, but that’s something I want,” you confess, looking up at him with that same fire in your eyes.

You were envious of him? You looked up to him? He could work with that.

“How do I become the best, Sensei Silver? What can I do next?”

Terry thinks about how to play this. Part of him did truly want to help you succeed; Cobra Kai was his legacy, and you were now not just part of that, but one of his shining stars. The greedy, primal part of him wants to promise you the best training money could buy if you would only become his. He settles for something in the middle.

“This dojo is really meant to cater to a group, and the lowest common denominator, even in the expert class. I don’t know if you can get the full attention that you deserve…” he begins, hesitating briefly, as though considering something, but he’s already finalized the plan in his mind.

“If you’d like, I could offer you private lessons at my personal dojo, where I could focus solely on you,” he offers, ever the generous benefactor. As if you weren’t already the centre of his attention every time you walked into the same room as him. Your eyes go wide, shining with delight at the thought.

“Wow, that would be incredible,” you breathe, and he feels his cock stir against his thigh at your excitement. While your interest wasn’t out of desire for him, it was about spending time alone with him, and that was enough to have his mind racing. Picturing you coming to his home with him had him nearly giddy.

“I just don’t think I could afford private lessons, Sensei Silver…” you say, and he resists the urge to scoff. Screw the money. This was about you, getting you, having you alone… but he had to be careful. You were fiercely independent, and proud, and while he admired and respected those traits in you he also knew to be wary of upsetting them.

“I would be happy to charge the same rate as you’re currently paying for the expert class,” he offers. “The success of my students is my main objective here with Cobra Kai. You are easily one of our best, and have clearly outgrown the expert class.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, clearly not wanting to take advantage of him, and he bites his tongue to keep from beaming at the thought.

“It would be an honour, Y/N.”

The grateful smile you level him with has his heart pounding in his chest. Were you really so oblivious about the effect that you had on him, on everyone in any room you were in?

“Thank you, Sensei. I won’t let you down.” He plans on taking that promise to its absolute limit.

“One stipulation, Y/N, if you don’t mind,” he presses, giving you a slight smile. You cock your head at him, waiting, though he gets the sense that you’ll accommodate anything he asks for.

“Allow me to speak with you once beforehand, to get a better sense of your goals and to develop a training regimen. Perhaps over dinner?”

Christ, when was the last time he had felt nervous about anything?

You blink, seemingly speechless. Terry thinks he detects the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks, but doesn’t want to give himself too much credit.

“You want to take me to dinner?” you ask, tone slightly incredulous.

“I could ask my personal chef to cook us a meal. It would give you a chance to see the dojo before we get started.” He pointedly doesn’t address your shock at him asking you out, hoping to subtly reframe the evening as a purely professional one; he can’t have you getting cold feet, not now. He just had to get you there, get you alone, and he could win you over. The thought of training you in a dozen other things before you even get started on karate dances through his mind, and he suppresses a groan. It wouldn’t do to lose focus now; you always kept him on his toes.

“Could…could I go home and change first?” you ask, looking down at your gi. It’s strange, seeing this more hesitant, shy side of you, but he finds that he enjoys it just as much as your typical fierce attitude. And, more importantly, this wasn’t a no.

“Of course. I can have a driver pick you up in a few hours – my home is rather difficult to find if you don’t know where to look.” He knows he’s laying it on thick with the show of wealth, but he can’t contain his excitement; if he has his way, he’ll be spoiling you for the rest of his life and beyond.

“Oh, that’s… wow, alright. I guess being the best student has its perks, huh?” you joke, and he smiles encouragingly at you. You scribble down your address – as if he didn’t already know it – on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, then?” you say hesitantly, and he’s fully enjoying your nerves, now.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he replies, trying to keep the purr from his voice. You give him a shy smile as you throw your bag over your shoulder, exiting the dojo and missing the pleased grin he directs at the back of your head. Having watched you leave, Terry immediately moves to collect his own things and head home.

There was much to prepare for.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The car finally breaks through the treeline after what feels like ages, driving smoothly up to a gorgeous estate. You knew that Mr. Silver was very well-off, but to live in a place like this… then again, he was offering to train you in his private dojo, so perhaps this shouldn’t be so surprising to you.

Looking down at your hands, twisting around themselves in your lap, you hope that you’ve dressed appropriately for the evening. What, exactly, was one meant to wear to a private dinner at your sensei’s gigantic house to discuss karate? You had settled on a simple summer dress, the green complimenting your hair and skin tone wonderfully, and a pair of wedges, keeping your hair down in loose waves and your makeup simple.

The driver stops the car – having a driver, that was strange for you as well – and you nervously hop out before he can come around and open your door for you. You weren’t the Queen of England, you could get out of a vehicle on your own. He guides you up to the front door, ringing the bell, then nods to you and turns to, presumably, go park the car.

“Thank you!” you call after him, not wanting to be rude, and then you hear the door open behind you. Turning, you see an older woman at the door, smiling warmly at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N. Please come in, and I’ll take you to Mr. Silv –”

“No need, Janet, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Silver approaches from a room off to the left, looking decidedly more relaxed in a pair of tan slacks, a white button-up shirt and a royal blue blazer, his hair out of its signature ponytail and framing his face. You hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to appear so at home in a place as luxurious as this, but he does, and you’re happy for him. Hopefully, these private lessons from him would help you become even half as successful as your sensei.

“Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he greets you warmly, and you smile at him. You would not ruin this opportunity for yourself, even if you were a bit nervous about how to behave in this situation.

“Thank you, sensei, and thank you again for sending someone to pick me up,” you reply graciously.

“Sensei is reserved for training, Y/N. Please, call me Terry outside of the dojo.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, hoping to keep things straight in your head. You didn’t often have relationships with people that transcended more than one social circle; it complicated things, made them messy as the lines blurred. You didn’t think that that would happen with Terry – he was on such a different level from you in every way – but you wanted to be aware of the possibility.

“Thank you, Terry. It’s so… strange, seeing you outside of the dojo.” You want to acknowledge the difference in the setting, but think that you may have come across a bit standoffish, and try to recover. “I’m so used to the ponytail,” you joke, gesturing to his hair, and his lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes, well it doesn’t get in the way when I’m just relaxing at home. You look lovely,” he compliments, approaching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just spoken with the chef, and we have a half hour before dinner. Would you like to see the dojo now, or can I offer you a drink?”

You pause to consider this, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You didn’t want to refuse his hospitality and make it seem like you were only here for the training he would offer you by wanting to get right into the dojo, and perhaps a drink or two would help you loosen up…

“A drink would be lovely, Terry, thank you.” He smiles, gesturing down the hall with an arm, and you follow him, taking in each new room with a sense of wonder. It was all warm, comfortable, relaxed… not at all what you would have expected from viewing just the exterior of the house.

Eventually, he leads you into a parlour with a collection of liquor bottles, one wall made completely of glass, looking out onto a large balcony and the gardens below. Smiling at the dwindling sunlight streaming in through the windows, you find yourself briefly distracted.

“Wine?” Terry asks, having selected a bottle of red. You nod to him, and he seems to take a long moment to look at you before pouring two glasses. Bringing both with him, he hands you a glass, which you accept gratefully, thanking him quietly.

“Come on, I’ll show you outside,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. He was so good at reading people, anticipating their thoughts and actions; you supposed it was a necessary skill to have, both for teaching and for karate. You smile, and follow him to the door leading out to the balcony, walking up to the balustrade to get a full view of gardens below. They were massive, seeming to stretch out forever, and were so lush and full. You sigh longingly as you take in the view.

“You get to come home to this every day?” you ask, awe evident in your tone. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate it,” Terry replies, coming to stand beside you. “I think I’ve come to take it for granted.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this…” you murmur. Terry is quiet, seeming content to let you take in your surroundings, the two of you drinking your wine in a comfortable silence. After awhile, a member of the staff finds the pair of you out on the balcony to inform you that dinner is ready. Following him through more spacious rooms of the home with Terry, you find yourself feeling far more comfortable than you had when you had first arrived, and couldn’t attribute it all to the wine.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The evening had been very successful so far, Terry thinks to himself as he surveys you from across the table. He can’t remember the last time he’s shared a meal with someone in his own home when it wasn’t for some business matter or another, and he finds that he has missed it.

He had been awestruck upon first seeing you at his front door; having never seen you in anything other than your gi, you were particularly striking in your soft green dress, your hair flowing down your back. You had been clearly nervous at first – hell, he couldn’t judge you for it; he was nervous himself – but had adjusted quickly, and he found himself impressed by your tenacity.

The look on your face as you had taken in sight of the garden, the sunlight illuminating you, had briefly taken his breath away. You were radiant even without the sun’s glow, but in that moment you had looked so serene he had been positively enchanted by you. He hadn’t planned on taking you outside, but he couldn’t resist giving you exactly what you wanted. He could see that happening a lot with you, should things progress the way he intended for them to.

You had opened up more once you had moved inside, telling him about yourself and asking about him in return. Ordinarily, Terry was rather cautious – if not outright reluctant – to divulge personal information about himself, but he found it easy to open up to you.

Having asked you further about your motivations to study karate, you had become more animated in your responses, speaking about your desire to make something of yourself, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. Again, Terry finds himself recognizing the similarities between you, especially in how you saw the world and your respective places in it, and he finds himself in a difficult position.

What would be the greater legacy for him to leave behind: training you to be the best and being your mentor, or pursuing a relationship with you that would, if he had his way, last as long as you both should live? He finds himself wrestling with complicated feelings, wholly unaccustomed to trying to prioritize someone’s hopes and dreams over his own.

But he had sacrificed before; he could do it again, and being your mentor would most assuredly connect your names together in history. There was something beautiful, poetic even, about that, and it eliminated the possibility of rejection, of failure. Terry decides to shift his goals again; he’s put love on the backburner his entire life, and he can do it again, at least until he’s cemented himself as a keystone to your success. He would have something that tied the two of you together, at least, and perhaps that would be enough.

He can’t help but take in the way your eyes glimmer in the candlelight with a slight smile, ignoring the slight clenching of his heart. Let him do something good and selfless for once in his miserable life.

You both finish your meal, and he offers to show you the dojo, the excited smile you give him making him ache in a way he hadn’t experienced.

--- Reader’s POV ---

After several months of intensive training, you truly felt like you were on top of the world. You felt almost as tall as Terry, your confidence having reached new heights. Terry had been incredible, working with you as often and as hard as he had, like your success was intrinsically tied to his own. You had appreciated everything he had done, and was doing for you more than you could ever say.

Having finished your session for the day, you both step off the mat, moving to get water and take a brief rest before you went home for the day.

“So, what’s next, Terry?” you ask, always excited to learn more. Terry doesn’t respond, and after a moment you look over to him seated on the bench, radiating tension.

“You know, Y/N, I’m not sure if I have anything more to teach you,” he replies, his large body caved inward slightly, like he’s being crushed by some heavy weight. You had learned to read him somewhat in your time together, and think he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Terry. I don’t think it’s possible for you to run out of knowledge,” you say, smiling encouragingly, but he scowls.

“Well, I have. This is over,” he says firmly, harshly. Some of his hair has come out of his ponytail, and he’s got a frustrated, defeated energy radiating off of him that you’re not sure what to make of.

You bite your lip, debating what to do. While you had definitely become more comfortable around Terry during this time together, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself his friend. What were the boundaries of this relationship after all of this? Should you give him space or offer to listen? Throwing caution to the wind, you decide on the latter.

“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?” you ask softly, sliding closer to him on the bench, trying to coax the truth out of him. He barks out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back, before he levels you with a serious, almost cold expression.

“It’s you.”

“I…what?” you ask, confused and hurt, and he seems to burst, leaping off the bench to his feet and whirling around to face you.

“It’s you!” he repeats, getting louder, and you’re not sure which emotions you detect in his voice, only that there are many of them and that they all seem to be entangled within one another.

“I am an old man, Y/N. I am old, and I am alone. I’d come to terms with that years ago, really I had,” he rambles, words flowing quickly from his lips without much thought. He was never like this; he was like you, looking before he leaped. What had happened?

“And then you walk into my dojo, and it’s like I’m seeing the sun rise for the first time.”

You stiffen, your eyes going wide, but he’s not even looking at you right now, pacing up and down the edge of the training mats like a caged animal.

“I thought I could be professional. I thought I could be your teacher, your mentor, and that that would be enough. Then, I thought up a dozen ways to try to win you over, to sweep you off your feet, to make you see… I’ve gone back and forth so many times, and every time you’ve done nothing but draw me in deeper. I’m trying to do what’s right, harder than I’ve ever bothered to try before, and now that’s it!” He turns suddenly to look at you, his eyes wide and searching, though for what you’re not sure.

“I’ve taught you everything I could, and now there’s nothing for you here anymore. Nothing to keep you here with me.”

He looks broken, and you’re stunned into silence by his revelation. Terry had feelings for you? The very idea seemed ridiculous. He was older, wealthy, successful, talented… you had never bothered to even consider him in that way; what would be the point, since it would never be reciprocated? Thinking about it now, though…

You had admired him from the moment you met him, respecting his dedication to his craft and his students. He had shown such wisdom in the dojo, and had fascinated you with his stories and experience. Over the past few months, you had become so comfortable with each other, and you had gotten to see his humour, his kind heart, his passion… And even you had recognized from the very beginning that he was incredibly attractive, especially for a man of his age, but again, you had pushed that kind of thinking out of your mind the second you accepted that it wouldn’t do anything for you but get you distracted.

He had been supportive, generous, shared his life and his home with you, and you had come to cherish the connection you had together. What was that if not love?

Looking over at him, where he had retaken his seat on the bench, slumped in a defeated position, it’s like you’re seeing him with fresh eyes. This man had loved you, presumably for quite awhile, and instead of acting on it had been nothing but professional, putting you and your needs above his own without you even realizing it. He had sacrificed so much, and even now was only upset that he had nothing else to offer? What a ludicrous notion. He had become your everything.

Getting up off the bench, you move silently to walk around in front of him, bending to his eye level. He doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re there, his eyes closed in defeat with his head in his hands, and now you feel like the idiot for not recognizing your own feelings sooner.

Tilting your head, you lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his softly.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, staying perfectly still, and you pull back a bit, looking at his face. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, confused.

“Why would you do that?” he demands, his voice low and hoarse. You nibble your lip nervously.

“To apologize, for not recognizing your feelings,” you say, and you think you see the light leave his eyes, pain evident on his features.

“And for not recognizing my own,” you add in a whisper. His gaze snaps back to yours, intense once more.

“What…?” is all he manages to get out in a choked voice.

“I never thought you would see me in that way, Terry, so I didn’t bother letting myself see you like that either. We’re from two different worlds, you could have anyone you wanted –”

“Not anyone,” he corrects pointedly, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes,” you counter, reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. “Anyone.”

He seems to freeze again, his eyes staring past you into the distance, into nothing, and you wait, knowing he needs a moment. Sure enough, his eyes soon snap back to yours, and he slowly stands up, closing the space between you with his large body so close to yours. He reaches up slowly, as though he doesn’t want to startle you, taking your face gently in both of his large, warm hands.

“You want me?” he whispers incredulously, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You swallow.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now… Yes, Ter –”

Your confession is cut off suddenly as he pulls your face none-too-gently up to his, kissing you with a fierce joy that takes your breath away. His arms wrap around you, one at your waist and one around your upper back, hand tangled in your hair. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch the top of his gi, pulling him down to you, overwhelmed by the desire that courses through you.

You could kick yourself for how stupid you’d been these past few months, wasting all this time together, but that would mean you would have to stop kissing him, and you’d already spent more than enough time doing that.

He is the one to break the kiss first, his blue eyes dark as he looks at you in his arms with thinly veiled wonder, and you feel your knees go weak. No one had ever looked at you like this before; you hadn’t thought that anyone ever would. You smile up at him shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete, standing in his arms.

“I adore you, Y/N,” he admits reverently, resting his forehead on yours. Tears spring to your eyes at his words, and he wipes them away gently with his thumb before you even realize they’re there. You let out a breathless laugh, hardly able to believe your ears, your heart singing.

“I love you, Terry,” you reply, and the smile that he gives you in return nearly brings tears to your eyes again. He scoops you up into his arms, sitting on the bench with you on his lap, kissing you soundly. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his hair, toes curling in delight. Gradually, you move to shift in his lap, straddling him, never breaking your kiss. His hands come around your hips, and you feel something primal course through you as you feel him getting hard against you.

He leans back from you, breaking the kiss again reluctantly, almost shyly.

“We don’t have to do this now, or here,” he tells you, considerate and gentlemanly as always, and you grin at him.

“It seems oddly appropriate though, doesn’t it?” you reply coyly, gazing at him with lust in your eyes. “And you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, sensei?”

His eyes go nearly black in desire and he growls at you, taking your gi in his hands and somehow shredding the clothes off of you in his haste to get at you. You may have poked the bear a bit too much with that comment, you think to yourself as he tears your bra from your body, leaving you in only your underwear on his lap.

“I think I have more to teach you after all, my dear,” he purrs, his mouth closing around one of your nipples and making you moan, digging your nails into his scalp and clutching him to your chest.

“Please, Terry, show me everything,” you beg desperately, throwing your head back as he toys with you.

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises, picking you up and turning to deposit you on the bench, taking off his own gi. You find yourself licking your lips as he pushes his pants past his hips, whimpering as his cock is bared to you. Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

Trembling slightly, you come to stand on the bench, now almost the same height as him as you push your underwear down your legs. His arms come around you, hands gripping your butt firmly, and your knees nearly buckle, but he’s there, he’s everywhere, supporting your weight with his body.

You pull his hair out of its ponytail, tangling your fingers in it as you tug him closer to you.

“Take me, Terry. I need you,” you ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes, reading the love in them and hoping that your own eyes reflect the same growing devotion.

Not hesitating, he takes you in his arms once more, your legs coming around his waist like they were always meant to be there, and he carries you over to the wall of the dojo, bracing you against it before gently lowering you onto his cock. You whimper as he enters you, and his eyes roll back in his head as he sheathes himself fully in your tight, wet heat.

“Oh God, Terry!” you groan, feeling so deliciously full of him, your nails digging into his back. Supporting you with his hands around your butt, he sets a slow pace of lifting you up off his cock before dropping you back down again. Slow and rough, it’s perfect, and you can’t get enough, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I knew you would be,” he croons in your ear, and you’re again stunned as you recognize how long this man has desired you.

“Made for you, Terry, only you!” you cry out, lifting your head to capture your lips with his own again as you grind your hips against him, feeling deliciously sinful. The pace of his thrusts increases, as though he’s urgently needing to make you his, but you meant what you said. This man was it for you; there would be nobody else.

“Yesss,” he hisses against your lips. “My woman, my everything.” You both tighten your grip on one another at his words, like you’re wanting to claim the other even more. Your orgasms hit you at the same time, and you both cry out the other’s name in your ecstasy, your pace slowing until you’re both just wrapped up in one another. You realize you’re crying again, and he kisses your tears away as they fall.

Reluctantly, he lowers you to the ground, but keeps his arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go completely, and you share the sentiment, nuzzling into his chest.

“You have given me everything, my treasure,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing the top of your head, and you tilt your head up to look at him, still teary-eyed.

“So have you,” you admit with complete sincerity, and he smiles at you, stepping away to retrieve your clothes.

“Oh, you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you. We’ve only gotten started,” he promises, handing your underwear to you. He pulls the pants of his gi back on, but holds his top in his hands, taking in the scattered scraps of fabric that were your gi. Smiling at you, he approaches, wrapping his top around you and tying it to you, big enough on you to look like a full robe.

He ties the obi around your waist, taking in the kana on either end that read Sensei Silver. It seemed appropriate. He takes your hand and looks you over, hair mussed, face flushed, smiling brightly at him as you wore his gi, and feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Come with me, my dear,” he purrs, leading you to the exit of the dojo. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

---

#terry silver #thomas ian griffith #terry silver x reader #cobra kai #smut #sensei targaryen #brb made myself cry #kk3 #karate kid #the karate kid 3

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the-gateway-to-madness · 14 days ago

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hello i feel like talking about cara and krel today so we are doing that. ramble under the cut

okay so the vibes with carel stem from this base of like-mindedness. isopsuchos. united in mind and spirit. but the goal is for them not to look like it until you think about it.

They don't look like their personalities clash, by any means- but Cara is disciplined, highly trained, tactical and strategic, and has the outlook and mindset of a guard, a protecting soldier. Her whole self seems dedicated to getting stronger, smarter, and better at predicting how she'll need to act. She appears to lead with her hands and use her (perfectly capable) head to serve those ends. Her heart is kept in careful check, to motivate her but not command her.

Krel, on the other hand, is all brains all the time- to the point where he treats force in an almost derogatory way. I think a lot of that attitude comes from his need to prove that his prodigious engineering ability is worth something, because for him it's Everything, but his father doesn't see it. He leads with his head, his hands serve his intellect, and his heart gets shunted to the back.

except no, neither of their hearts are actually suppressed. Their pride loses its relevance, to BOTH of them, when a loved one genuinely needs them. What they hide under the façade of expected behavior (Cara's obligation to be a strict, devoted Okhrana, protector of royalty, vs. Krel's expectation to be an effective leader- especially since Aja rejects that role pre-3B) is a desire to connect and to create, to offer something to the world, to mean something to someone else and be understood. In my mind, this was very simple for them to connect over when they were very young, and genuine, and vulnerable. I think their relationship was almost pure connection and mutual support and creating good to put into the world together, on a tiny child level.

And the thing is, because of that shared compulsion to bring something good to the world and their loved ones, Cara and Krel really, truly understand each other. On a deep level of personal values and ambitions, they have this like-mindedness.

And because of that, Krel can bring out the curiosity, the intellectual, the creative, in Cara- who has bent and reformed herself into a soldier. Krel brings out and nurtures the person that Cara really is, feeds a healthier version of who she wants to be. She was trained to fight, but really just wants to help others and bring something good to the world around her. He gives her a new perspective with which to analyze herself, and, when her insecurities dig their claws into her, he's the one to bring her rational and reasonable mind back to the forefront in such a way that she can see her worth.

Because of this like-mindedness, Cara can bring out the selflessness, the humility, and the simple appreciation of beauty and art that I think Krel used to have (before he spent years being defensive of his intelligence, the trait he built his self-esteem on). She's the one to remind him how strong his heart is and that his courage is as honorable as his creativity. She's level-headed and calm, just like Krel is, but in a slightly different way, and as such is able to appeal to him on matters he'd usually be close-minded to.

They do balance out each others' weaknesses- their points of confidence and insecurity complement each other. But they also share and amplify their strengths. There's a closeness between them brought on by similar means of communication, senses of humor, and an understanding of each others' feelings of needing to serve purposes bigger than themselves. They remind each other that the parts of themselves they minimize are important, and show care and support to those parts of each other in a way that is unique to them.

here's a carel art dump

#tales of arcadia #3below tales of arcadia #toa 3below #krel tarron #tales of arcadia oc #oc x canon

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justafriend-ql · 1 year ago

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Thai BL Favorites List Tag Game

thank you to the lovely @firstkanaphans for tagging me! the original prompt list was created by @thatgirl4815. let's get into it!

(note: i'll try my best to not make this entire list about never let me go, but you know who i am)

favorite bl: never let me go (nobody is surprised) it's unique, innovative, the first gmmtv bl series based on an original script rather than adapted from a novel. the lovechild of cringe 90s thai action dramas and BL tropes that p'jojo flirts with or fucks with depending on how he's feeling. palm and nueng live in my head 24/7 and the cinematography of the series drove me to learn how to make gifs (something i would not recommend you do if you value your freetime lol)

favorite pairing: palmnueng :) power imbalance, social expectations, and simmering sexual tension that all breaks loose at the seashore. duty turned to devotion and loneliness turned to love. two 18-year-olds whose life circumstances couldn't be more different yet find mirror images of their own insecurities and lack of self-worth in each other. clinging onto each other only to let go in the name of love. but always returning to each other, their other half, their soulmate. literally everything i could ever want in a pair. bonus: they kiss each other like they actually want to.

most underrated actor: sing! he's great in comedic roles (had me wheezing with laughter in unidentified mysterious girlfriend). but completely slayed as todd in not me. toddblack scenes make me genuinely sick. i would love to see more of him in dark dramas. also you really just have to respect his dedication. he survived infamous early series like slamdance (he was paired with drake) and put his whole pussy into the puppy play in warp effect.

favorite character: palm pannakorn jannaloy my most beloved boy. breaks my heart and heals it at the same time. he's just such a fundamentally good, kind person. and pretty much nothing in his life makes that easy. eternally self-sacrificing, without much love for himself but so so much love for others. even when they leave him behind. look! the very first gif i ever made was of him - see below and kindly disregard the quality.

favorite side character: pa jindapat out of all the series i've watched, pa is probably the character i relate to the most. that's why she's my pfp! i love her messy buns and glasses and over-sized t-shirts. she just feels very real in all her interactions with pat and her cluelessness about her very big crush on ink. the little tremble in her voice in the dark room scene when she tells ink "i liked it. i liked it so much i thought that i was special to you" makes me tear up. she's funny and she's bold and she holds her ground and i love her. very much.

favorite scene: the farewell dance - never let me go, episode 9 there's no dialogue. just music. grief-stricken palm and nueng dancing slowly, somberly in a motel room palm will wake up alone in the next morning. nueng knows he's leaving; deep down, palm probably knows too. their steps slow and palm seeks comfort in a kiss that quickly turns desperate because they're both hurting and the only thing that will numb the pain is each other. the feeling of tears running down palm's face forces nueng to pull away. the look on nueng's face as he wipes palm's tears away is possibly my favorite thing phuwin has ever done. he looks so goddamn heartbroken and guilty, because nueng feels like palm's brokenness is his fault. also one of my favorite performances from pond - and he was in the hospital earlier that day!!

favorite line: "i love you. and i want you to love yourself too." ayan to akk; the eclipse, episode 12, part 1/4. speaks for itself i think.

most anticipated bl and why: dangerous romance although i'm definitely excited for only friends, i have a soft spot for underdogs and this series seems like one (especially if it airs at the same time as only friends). i love perth especially and both chimon and him are crazy talented actors. i hope despite the silly title of the series, the script gives them something good to work with. and i hope that "i hate you" kiss in the rain from the pilot is better in the actual series lmao. the bts photos are making me super excited! also: viewjune let's gooooooo

healthiest relationship in a bl: heartliming these two make me cry. really just the epitome of finding a safe space in another person and providing them with a safe space in yourself. everything about them is beautiful. the amount of effort and care they put into learning how to communicate with each other is incredible. i love that they fight alongside each other. and: "i love it when i'm with him" - sometimes it's really as simple as that.

most toxic relationship in a bl: going to second @firstkanaphans here and say tharntype this almost feels like a cop-out because it's so obvious, but it's true. nothing will ever excuse the things tharn did to type without his consent, and type's internalized and externalized homophobia wasn't dealt with satisfactorily in my opinion. there are good kernels in every story, but the bad overwhelmed the few good ones in this series for me.

guilty pleasure series: love by chance guilty because it's mame and i don't love how aggressive they make ae (the sweetest, gentlest boy) toward the end. to be honest i skipped everything except for the aepete scenes when i watched this so i can't comment on the rest. but i often find myself returning to episode 4, in particular, because ae's feelings realization journey is lovely and soft and seeing baby perth and saint is always a treat. i liked it enough to gif it, so...

bonus! most underrated series: my only 12% created this bonus category so i can beg you to watch this one if you haven't. trust me and suffer through the bad haircuts and slow burn. i knew it was different from other series when seeiw cries while watching a queer movie with his sister, recognizing his own feelings onscreen, then sneaks downstairs to watch the rest by himself in tears later that night. that experience is so fucking real. this series seared me with its portrayal of the nostalgia and grief of childhood friendships and eventual separation, and the role reversal post-reunion is so well done it makes me insane. i was sobbing in my room at 4am and that's the best review i can give a series.

i had a lot of fun doing this and i hope if you read to this point you got... well, something, out of it. tagging @cankersoregirl @first-kanaphan @feralmuskyscentedhoepran @akkpipitphattana @ayan-sukkhapisit @nongnaos and anyone else who may like to do this!

#ask game #thai bl favorites #never let me go sweep what did you expect

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unrealward · 1 year ago

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The last few posts are, like I said, from my high school AP drawing and painting portfolio (By the way, the theme of the concentration was "Transformations of the body". Does it read?)

I have some complicated feelings about the work. Below the cut I share some musings about it.

Warning, this story is about classroom abuse.

My high school art teacher was hypercritical, controlling, and at times coercive. In other words, abusive.

Because we, her students, regularly won awards for our work, she continued mostly unchallenged by the school. She was working there for over 15 years.

I was her favorite, so I was spared the worst of it, but that isn't the kind of privilege you're happy to have. Favoritism is conditional on obedience, and in this case, achievement through technical skill.

I generally try to make the best of any situation--Call it resourcefulness, or opportunism. I tried to explore and express my ideas while still getting her approval to go forward with the pieces--At times a lengthy process. I knew to keep my most vulnerable ideas to myself. She might have vaguely known that I enjoyed manga, cartooning, and surrealism, but I kept it hidden. Everything I brought to the table was a sacrificial lamb.

It's a particular kind of violation to not just lack ownership over your own ideas, but even your physical output. For some students, she would actually paint or draw over parts of the work to "correct" them. This only happened to me once or twice, and I usually managed to paint back over her work without a fuss. But even if I only dealt with it in the ideation process, all of my work from that time inevitably still has her hands on it.

I decided pretty early on, unrelated to her class, that I was not interested in pursuing art professionally. As I approached graduation, adults in my life would constantly encourage me--"Don't let this talent go to waste! Don't stop drawing, okay?"

It was difficult to understand. Drawing is reflexive to me. I couldn't really imagine a world without it--Even a "me" without it.

And that's still true in a lot of ways. I don't think I can ever put the pencil down completely. But certainly, I've had to make time for it, and it's no longer my biggest priority. There are weeks, probably months I've spent without drawing much of anything. It's been years since my last oil painting. I miss drawing with colored pencils.

In high school, I had some hundreds of hours dedicated to nothing but making art--But only under the hawkish eye of the teacher. I could make these highly developed pieces because I simply had the time to do so. If nothing else, I enjoyed the technical process.

If I want to make work of this caliber again, I have to devote a similar amount of time--And as an adult, time is on quite the premium.

When I make art, I never think of high school. Regularly I forget it ever happened. Wisely and tragically, I knew how to compartmentalize.

In the absence of acute pain, what I carry is more insidious--That strategic disconnection, that permanently-guarded heart. The sharpening of my abilities such that I appear as a whole self when I am sharing just a sliver.

There isn't some grand moral to the story here. The abuse neither actively haunts me, nor can I say I have recovered from it. It simply happened. But I know a lot of students were turned off from art, maybe forever, because of that teacher. They carry medals that don't feel earned. They struggle to find an artistic voice amidst the din.

At times, I need to make art to understand how I feel. Other times, I need to understand how I feel to make art. I can't help but see the image of things I want to create, even if I don't know how, even if I'm not ready.

Obviously, there's life after this kind of abuse. I'm living it. More than giving me new baggage, it's more accurate to say it codified existing problems. Anyways, I'm sharing this old art because I want to claim the past as mine, even if it's painful or embarrassing.

I'm hoping to make more art soon. I am trying to unbind myself from careful strategy and intention and to create things that bubble up from my subconscious. There are ideas I have held onto for years that are just waiting for me to create them. Even if it's slow or difficult, I hope I can share them with you some day.

Thanks for reading.

#indexed post #life writing #abuse /#personal /#irt the final paragraphs regarding intention -- i try not to focus on numbers because who give a shit #but it is pretty funny that my most popular works are the ones i made with no planning lol.#Also please dont send me advice or armchair diagnose me based on this post. I already know. It just aint about that rn

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imsashav · 2 years ago

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Part II: The Important

" - My rose is just a common rose ? But she told me she was the only one of her kind in the whole universe

- But she's not a common rose! She is Your rose, It is the time that you have devoted to her that makes your rose so important

- She is my rose... "

- The little prince

What is important? a job, having money, having a permanent home, dying doing what is supposedly necessary, which in the general sense is having a good life, when in fact you forget what really matters.

Living thinking that only in such a way will you reach the top, when in reality you are nothing more than one more deluded by a utopian society that will never work, will never be enough, will never have a finish line, because the closer the finish line, the farther they put her.

Sometimes it's necessary to stop, listen to a calm, sad and real song, to fall into reality, which is, Nothing matters, everything, everyone you know, nothing is important, nothing matters, but from the moment you dedicate time to something, something you really love to do, that does become important, because you dedicated time, sweat, affection and joy to it, so I rewrite it...

Nothing matters until you make a place in your heart for it.

- A delirium of Sasha

#poem #poems on tumblr #poetry

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wexarethewalkingxdead · 1 year ago

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Which female horror archetype are you?

the heroine

the ingenue, the maiden, the madonna. you're feared because of your cleverness. like the survivor, you're often the target of terrible horrors, but unlike her, you find your strength in knowledge instead of physical endurance. your patron saint is reiko asakawa. you're most compatible with the she-beast, whose torment could be eased by your gentle touch.

What kind of supervillain is your muse?

lovestruck henchman to the big bad

just like smee and captain hook <3 but yeah, you're not a huge baddie yourself. you're in this for the love of the one closest to you, a noble and miserable cause--but your fierce loyalty knows no limits. you will not hesitate to hurt those who pose any threat to your favorite. your devotion will devour you. your villainy is at its core, a loving tragedy.

If you were a deity what would be your domain?

Warfare and the Forge

You are the divine patron of battle, conflict, and the weapons forged to fight them. You are quick to temper and obstinate in disposition, and you also govern heroic attributes such as strength, courage, and honor. Due to your domain’s ability to bring widespread death and suffering, much of the mortal realm often looks upon you with fear and disdain. However, you also give life to transformative and regenerative forces such as revolution and rebellion, and your innovative forge has birthed vital technologies of science, beauty and prosperity alongside its spears and armor. Mortals look to you for bravery and prowess in battle as well as skilled craftsmanship, and your mythological equivalents are Greece’s Ares and Hephaestus, Scandinavia’s Odin, Egypt’s Sobek, and Mesoamerica’s Huītzilōpōchtli.

What kind of touch do you possess?

powerful touch

you leave me breathless. you are someone that is destined to do great things. everything you do is with a purpose and dedication. you are a powerful presence that leaves their mark on the world. focused, confident, and striking is how others would describe you. others come to you for trustworthy advice and honest opinions. you have few that you consider close and whom you will open up to. you often push down your emotions and put up a strong persona because you are scared of vulnerability. you protect others hard and your heart harder. i love you, bad bitch.

Which Rage Language Are You?

step back

usually, you're able to bottle up your emotions and ignore the frustrations. but, after weeks of shoving everything down, your body needs a release, and i pity the poor person who managed to piss you off. it's screaming crying, shouting, kicking lockers, whatever you can do to get it out of your system. it's a whole jean grey moment, fire and fury blasting out of you.

What chess piece represents you?

White Rook

You are a White Rook. As a piece that can move inwards and outwards, you're a master of self-reflection. You know what needs to be done and when to do it. You're a protector, and would willingly take someone's place in danger in a heartbeat because you know you can handle the pressure. But even castle walls crumble. For all your chivalry and fortitude, everything must come to an end. Will you be there to see the final stages of the war? Or will you have already been discarded in the battle?

what brand of stupid are you?

Confidently stupid

You think you are the smartest person on earth as you put your spoon in the microwave to make it easier to scoop ice cream. You give awful advice that sounds smart when spoken but terrible when executed. You insist on doing things yourself and are so absolutely sure you are doing everything right. Your confidence gives you charm, as well as the bravery to do the dumb things that you do

Why Do You Hurt?

you're choking on how much you have to try

you have tried. you have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders and accepted more responsibilities than you have ever wanted, even intended to gain. it isn't crushing - you are strong enough to hold it - but you are choking. you don't know what to do with it. you don't know where it goes, how to move this weight everyone knows you can hold onto, and do you even want to get rid of it? Never. You would not give this to - force this on - anyone else. but you /can't/. but you are choking on it. your body will hold it up even when you lose all the air in your lungs, and your footing, and your courage. it does not mind choking you. it seems almost designed to do so. if you weren't wrung out you wouldn't be doing this thing properly.

#.dash games [muses]#.headcanon [andrea]

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little-spoiled-brat · 2 years ago

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Hi can I get an Erwin x reader if you’re still writing for Erwin? Where everyone knows that Erwin has dedicated his whole heart to the survey corps so everyone is extremely surprised when a beautiful short girl comes to Hq one day to see Erwin and everyone had to find out who she is and to their surprise, his gf!

pairing: erwin x reader

cw: y/n and erwin having a private relationship, fluff, a lot of banter between the superiors here and there

author's note: ahhh! i missed writing for erwin and this request was too cute that i had to write it <33

- mystery girl -

erwin smith was one hell of a secretive person. you can never tell what plans he had in mind or what was the next trick he had up in his sleeves.

there was only three people in the entire regiment that knew of his background, that knew about his history before he devoted his entire life to the survey corps - captain levi, section commander hange, and section commander miche.

but even those three, despite being the closest to him, didn't knew everything about him. the things they knew was just the tip of the iceburg.

"are you going to be working late tonight?" you asked erwin as you fixed his bolo tie whilst he finished doing his hair. he hummed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"paperworks but i'll try to get home as early as i can. i don't want to miss dinner and your cooking" erwin said, leaning down as he tilted your head to meet his lips. you smiled into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"sweet, eyebrows. very sweet" you teased as erwin chuckled and kissed you once more. you grabbed his jacket, helping him put it on as he thanked you.

"i should get going or i might not get back home in time for dinner" erwin said as you nodded, letting him grab his things and put on his boots before heading for the door.

"be safe. i love you" you said as erwin smiled at you, nodding and kissing you on the forehead before leaving your shared house. "i love you too, y/n. take care"

you watched your boyfriend leave on his horse before turning around and getting started on your chores for the day. you looked at the little list of things to do you had to see that you only had to buy a few things in town and clean around for a bit.

you hummed, grabbing a broom and a dustpan and got started on cleaning. you were sweeping around the kitchen, humming a song when you noticed a box on the counter.

your eyes widened as your instincts kicked in when you realized what it was. erwin's lunch. he must've forgot to grab it before he left. although erwin was not one to get hangry, he might lose it a bit when he realizes that he accidentally left his lunch with your cooking in it.

quickly finishing up your cleaning, you got ready to go to town and drop off his lunch on your way. within a few minutes, you had his lunch safely tucked away in the saddle bag on your horse and you were on your way to town.

it was a few minutes ride but you reached the busy streets of trost district, you tied your horse to one of the post near the gates to let him get some rest and some water before heading back home later.

you walked by foot, holding the lunch box closet to you as you navigated your way through the crowded streets. you caught a glimpse of the survey corps headquarters and walked through the open gates.

some cadets looked at you, probably questioning who was the girl that randomly let herself in their headquarters but brushed it off. you walked inside the building and decided to ask around since you forgot where erwin's office was.

"uh excuse me? where is erwin's office?" you asked a brown haired woman with glasses as she halted and looked at you. she hummed and raised her eyebrows at you as you realized and chuckled.

"oh! i'm erwin's girlfriend, he forgot his lunch and i'm just dropping it off" you said with a soft smile as her eyes lit up in both shock and amusement.

"erwin has a girlfriend? oh uh his office is on the second floor, the second door to the left" she said with a cheery smile, whispering the first part to herself but you pretended not to hear. you knew that erwin kept that part of his life private so you were not surprised when no one knew about you or your relationship.

"thank you!" you said with a grateful nod, walking to the second floor and heading down the long corridor until you reached a room with double doors.

you knocked softly, just in case he had someone in there to make sure you weren't interrupting something important.

"name and business?" erwin's calm voice asked from the other side of the closed door.

"it's y/n. you forgot your lunch so i'm just dropping it off" you said as you were granted permission to enter. you walked inside his office to see that he was actually in the middle of what looked like a strategy meeting.

"hello sweetheart" erwin greeted with a smile, excusing himself before standing up from his seat and crossing the room to reach you. the two men - one with a short stature and black hair and one was tall with blonde hair looked at erwin with surprised expressions.

"i brought your lunch. you forgot it on the kitchen counter and i was heading to town today anyway so i figured that i'd drop it off" you said with a smile as you handed the lunch box over, erwin smiled gratefully and kissed you on the forehead.

"thank you, y/n. i thought i brought it with me before i left but guess i didn't" erwin said with a chuckle as you giggled. you were about to open your mouth to speak when the same woman you asked for help earlier came bursting through the door.

"erwin! why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?!" she yelled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly as you looked at her and smiled. you waved at her as she waved back and marched over to your boyfriend, pointing her finger at him.

"why didn't you tell me you had a girlfriend?!" she repeated as erwin chuckled, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"calm down, hange. you never asked if i had one or not and you know i keep that part of my life private" erwin said as he put the lunch on top of his desk.

"well, now that she's here and the three of you are also here. i might as well introduce her" erwin said, returning to your side as he wrapped an arm around your waist.

"y/n this is hange, section commander of the survey corps. that is levi, captain of the survey corps, and that is miche, also a section commander of the survey corps. hange, levi, and miche, this is y/n, my girlfriend" erwin said, pointing to each person in the room as you waved at them and smiled.

"tch. you should've told us about her sooner. we would've stopped trying to find you a girlfriend" levi muttered, crossing his arms as miche and hange nodded in agreement.

"sorry-" erwin started as he rubbed the back of his head but he was cut off by hange.

"wait! you were also trying to find him a girlfriend, levi?" hange asked, narrowing her eyes at the raven captain as he clicked his tongue.

miche exhaled through his nose in agreement as the two section commanders started nagging the poor captain, asking him question after question. you laughed at the three superiors as erwin shook his head, turning to you.

"you better get going before you get interrogated by them as well and you end up not getting anything done" erwin said, kissing you on the nose as you giggled and nodded. the two of you quietly left the office, leaving the three higher ups bickering in the room.

erwin walked you to the gates of the headquarters, some cadets asking who you were as he proudly and happily replied with "y/n, my girlfriend" every time.

you reached the front gates as erwin placed one more kiss on your lips.

"let me know if you need anything, you know where to find me" erwin whispered, pecking you lips as you nodded at him. you gave him a hug as he squeezed you before letting you go.

"i will. see you later, erwin" you said with a smile, waving at him as you walked out the gates. he watched you as you crossed the road, making your way through town as the smile on his face never left even after you were no longer in his sights.

later on that day, just like he promised, erwin came back home early and just in time for dinner.

taglist: @levi-supreme @galactict3a @notgoodforlife @jooonpapi @imkumichan @lamees004 @ackermendick

#erwin x y/n #erwin fluff #erwin x reader #aot x y/n #attack on titan #aot #aot x reader #aot fluff #shingeki no kyojin #snk #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk fluff

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sinfulspencer · 3 years ago

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The Daisy and The Bee (pt. 2)

Prompt: Spencer takes Daisy to see her father. Her, covered in blood, is too hard to resist. Read part 1 here.

Summary: Reader is a serial killer and Spencer might be into her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: death, detailed description of murder, blood, poisoning; Unsub!Spencer, Sub!Spencer, Dom!Reader; pet names (pretty boy, bee), blood kink, degradation, praise kink, oral sex (female receiving), hair pulling, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, breeding kink, creampie, cum play

Words: 8.9k

A.N.: This whole chapter is dedicated to @sassymoon. Thank you for giving me the right inspiration to start this story and thank you for beta reading both parts.

Reminder: Reader is a serial killer. There’s nothing romantic about what she’s doing, so please, do not romanticise her character or defend her from her actions. She needs to be held accountable for her manipulative and murderous behaviour, end of story.

Keep in mind that this is fanfiction: I do not condone the actions of the characters, nor I support them – and I certainly do not encourage such actions.

Stay safe! x

Please consider liking, reblogging, or commenting on the fic if you are on the taglist. Otherwise, you are essentially asking me to take an extra step to include you while offering me absolutely NOTHING in exchange, which is a pretty shitty feeling.

Check my masterlist here.

JOIN MY TAGLIST!

Read my guidelines here and send your requests here.

Check my MGG'S OTHER ROLES MASTERLIST here.

Hybristophilia: a sexual interest in and attraction to those who commit crimes. A paraphilia in which sexual arousal, facilitation and attainment of orgasm are responsive to and contingent upon being with a partner known to have committed a crime.

It’s six in the morning.

The first ray of sunshine filters through the curtains and you’re forced to open your eyes, staring at the white ceiling on top of you. There are blood stains everywhere around you, the smell of the metallic scent of the red liquid in your clothes is strong and all consuming.

A baby pink blanket is poorly covering your legs, but you kick it off the bed.

Involuntarily, you kick the foot of someone else sleeping beside you. For a split second your heart starts beating faster in your chest, but then a pair of warm arms tightly wrap around your body as you melt against his chest. You calm down immediately when you recognize the familiar scent radiating off his skin.

That mixture of lavender and vanilla.

“Good morning Daisy.”

You giggle, finding comfort in hearing him call you that way.

You were expecting him to run away after what happened three days ago. You could see in his eyes that he was scared, that Spencer didn’t know what to do besides staring at you like a deer in the headlights – but then his whole body demeanour changed, his desire for you spilled out from his lips and his devotion came so easily.

Spencer couldn’t let you go after what happened.

“Good morning, Bee.”

Spencer brushes the tip of his nose against your neck, pulling you closer to his body. This is his usual way of telling you that he doesn’t want to get out of bed, but today is the big day – and you don’t plan on lingering in that bedroom any longer.

After all, you need to pay a visit to your father in prison. He’s going to pay for everything he put you through and more, and then... then, you have nothing planned. Incredible, right?

You were so cocky before, so arrogant.

And now, that you’re so close to your ultimate target and ready to get to him, you don’t care about anything else. You could get caught, you wouldn’t even care – you’d tell Spencer to go back to where he came from while you end up locked away, far from him.

You know it would break his heart.

Does it matter?

“Come on, we need to get ready.”

You slip away from Spencer’s grip before he could ease you back into bed and grab your clothes from the floor, stuffing them inside your bag. You had to buy nicer clothes, so people wouldn’t suspect you being some kind of fanatic in love with your father.

He has met his fair share of weird people, obsessed with his works. You’re not one of them. You’re a fan of your own, of works that have some kind of sense.

Works that are helpful to others.

Works that helped others cope with their traumas.

Spencer rolls off the bed and gets dressed, placing his gun in his holster and the second gun attached to the ankle holster on his right leg. He knows people will recognize him, he bets his face has been all over the news and that his team is probably looking for him – but they don’t know what’s between you and Spencer.

They don’t know the lengths he’d go to for you.

As weirdly as it sounds, Spencer proved his loyalty to you twice in the last two days.

He took you to a safe house that the FBI doesn’t use anymore. He never touched your bag with your weapons and, most importantly, he never talked back. He has followed you like a lost puppy – or, even better, a hungry bee in search of pollen.

With Spencer’s money, you rented a car. You dyed your hair, you changed your style. You became a completely different person in order for people not to recognize you.

Even though the FBI didn’t have proof of your crimes, you didn’t want to get caught. Not until you get to your father and force him to pay his debts to you. Spencer knows that can’t happen, he knows that he made a deal with you – and if he manages to get back to the FBI, he has to respect that deal.

Does he really want to go back, though?

“Are you ready?” you ask

Spencer eyes you up and down, noticing how that tight white dress leaves nothing to the imagination. Your legs are bare, you’re wearing high heels and even though your hair is messy, you look deliciously sinful.

“Are you going to meet your father dressed like that?”

You hum, sliding your hands down your skirt. “Yes. Is there a problem, Bee?”

He shakes his head, moving his hand closer to you but you slip away before he could touch you. Spencer pouts, missing your touch, but his feelings are not important at the moment, or at all. You don’t want to be touched right now, you just want to see your father and make him suffer as much as he did with you.

You’re not going to spare him.

“No, Daisy. You look beautiful.” – Spencer whispers, biting his bottom lip and taking a step back – “Let’s go.”

Following you out of the safe house in silence, Spencer pulls out the keys of the rented car from his pocket. He’s not going to say anything until you get to the prison, hoping that you haven’t forgotten the deal you made with the FBI – with him, more specifically.

In the last two days you were more calm and collected, but today Spencer notices how nervous and irritated you are. The slightest mistake could make you do the unexpected, and Spencer can’t have you make any mistakes.

He needs to be careful with you.

As obsessed with you as he is, Spencer needs to remember that you’re a serial killer. And he could be your next target, if he doesn’t play his cards well.

Your instincts to kill have not vanished.

Spencer knows you’re a psychopath and he has dealt with lots of them, but you are completely different. They were all work, you’re not – you’re much more than that, you’re his obsession. He has to be careful, he has to calculate each step he takes before opening his mouth – even though psychopaths are not impulsive, you had to be three days ago.

For your own sake.

For your own safety.

Spencer sits in the driver's seat while you stay in the passenger seat, fidgeting with your hands and fixing your clothes carefully. You want to look decent, you want to look respectable – like a good daughter visiting her terrible father, a daughter that still loves him deeply.

It couldn’t be further away from the truth.

The car ride is silent, with Spencer’s right hand resting on your thigh and his left one on the steering wheel. You don’t flinch, you don’t look at him – you’re too focused on your own thoughts, repeating the words over and over in your head.

Nothing matters more right now than the conversation you will have with your father.

When Spencer proved to you that he meant what he said about taking you to your father, you were doubtful. You kidnapped a federal agent and you’re going to a prison; what if someone who works there actually recognizes Spencer? What if they call for back-up and you get arrested before stepping inside that interrogation room?

How did Spencer get a meeting with your father in the first place without his team being alerted?

They’re obviously looking for him, unless he planned everything with them. Unless he knew that you were going to seduce him and plan on escaping before being taken away.

Those questions have been running through your mind for three days now, but you didn’t dare to speak up about this with Spencer. Maybe he wouldn’t lie to you, maybe he’s really into you and wants to be with you, but that seed of doubt planted in your brain cannot stop growing.

Still, you don’t care.

You just want to see your father. That’s your only request, your deal with Spencer.

If he breaks it, he’s a dead man. You won’t even feel bad for hurting him, for slicing his neck, for pouring arsenic down his throat while you choke him. You won’t care at all.

“You go first. I’ll sneak in later.”

You turn to look at Spencer, trying to see in his honey coloured eyes a slice of doubt. There’s none.

“I’ll miss you so much, Bee.”

Spencer leans forward, planting a kiss on your lips. “I’ll be right behind you Daisy.”

You hop out of the car, grabbing your purse. The glass vial in your boot is crashing against your foot, secured and safe, as you start walking towards the entrance of the facility. You know Spencer is going to park the car not too far from there, hiding from the cameras before anyone could see it.

You can’t get caught now.

This is too important for you and you’re going to do everything in your power to carry out your plan.

Pushing the doors open, you talk to one of the guards.

“Hi, my name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here to see my father.” – you say, innocence oozing from your voice – “I have a meeting planned with him.”

The guard asks you important details about your relationship with your father and a proof of it. You have everything he requested in your bag, showing him your passport and the proof that the man inside that prison is really your father.

Spencer arranged everything for you days before.

You’ve never been inside of a prison before in your life, You were too smart to get sent there. You don’t know if they’re going to search you, But even if they do, they won’t find anything – unless they ask you to take off your boots, which you don’t think will happen.

The arsenic is safe.

Spencer steps inside the prison with his eyes low on the floor, showing his badge to the agent at the entrance. You glance at him from behind you, giving him a reassuring smile as two female agents make sure you don’t have anything on you. You wish you could’ve done something to make them stop, maybe bring a teaser to shock them or one of your syringes, but you don't.

There’s no need for more blood to spill, unless it’s your father’s.

When they decide you're clear, you hear one of the two female guards whisper to the other.

“Thank you.” – you say with a smile, trying to put on the kindest and sweetest facade ever – “Can I go?”

“Yes, we’ll escort you to the interrogation room.”

Spencer seems weirdly calm in this situation, but you didn’t expect anything less from a man who has faced more serial killers than you’ll ever will in your life.

You are one, for example.

Agent Jareau told you that you’re not the first psychopath to pass through, but you will make sure to be the last one for Spencer. Whether today goes bad or good, you don’t plan on letting him go – especially if everything goes according to plan.

If that happens, Spencer Reid will be your one and only.

Or at least, that’s what they always say.

You have no idea how that feels. Maybe you did, in the past, but now not anymore. Things have changed and so have you, probably for the better. For your own sake and safety.

Spencer approaches you from behind as you walk with the guard. He puts a hand on your hips and you push it away, not wanting anybody to get too close to you now.

No matter how comforting and warm Spencer’s touch it, you cannot be distracted now.

You’re there for a reason.

You’re working for your own self right now.

And no one can take the moment away from you. You’re too efficient to let the calming touch of a man distract you from your plans. That has never happened – and it’s not going to happen right now.

“Are we going to be alone in that room, Officer?” you ask

The guard nods. “Yes, as requested. We’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

Spencer stares at you for a few seconds, then he looks away. He made sure that everyone inside the prison thinks you’re helping the FBI by talking to your own father about his murders, when in reality Spencer knows you’re going to do much more than that.

You will flaunt your works, and then you will make him pay.

Spencer might be attracted to you, but he’s not stupid. He knows what you want to do, you hinted at it throughout his interrogation with you four days ago – and he’s going to cover for you, because you deserve some closure. Just like all those other families deserve it.

The deal is still intact.

“Miss Y/L/N, the room is ready.”

Spencer points to the door next to the one in front of you. “I’ll be here if you need me, Y/N.”

You don’t like when he uses your name, it feels too personal, but you know he has to for safety reasons here. He can’t whisper your nickname, or the guards will know that there’s something wrong with you. They will question you and you don’t have time for their stupidity, you’re too done with that.

Dealing with Agent Jareau and Agent Alvez was too exhaustingly boring. You don’t want to repeat the same pattern.

“Thank you, Doctor Reid.” you say

Pushing the door open, you walk in, head held high and eyes burning with desire for revenge.

Your father is sitting at the table. His hands have been handcuffed to the legs of the table and his orange jumpsuit fits him loosely.

You haven’t missed that face, but now you know from whom you got that cocky, arrogant smirk always ready to appear on your perfect lips. Spencer learned to love it in the past four days – no, he learned to be obsessed with it.

Each time he looked at you, you smirked – and Spencer’s heart grew fonder for you and your loveless expression.

“Look who finally came to visit her old man.”

“Shut up.” – you hiss, pushing the chair back and sitting on it – “I’m going to do all the talking today, you will listen.”

Your father raises his brows, leaning back against the chair. “Oh? And I thought you were going to ask me about my job. Isn’t the FBI begging me to release more statements so that David Rossi can write his stupid books?”

The more you look at him, the more you realise how similar you are – and that makes you sick. If only you weren’t his daughter, if only you were stronger, if only your mother hadn’t died so young… Maybe you could’ve been saved. Maybe you could’ve been different.

This is all his fault.

“What has gotten into you, Daisy?”

Spencer, on the other side of the glass, widens his eyes. Does your father know about your nickname? Was he the one to start calling you like that? Spencer thought it was related to your tattoo, but maybe it wasn’t. He remembers how that nickname sparked something behind your eyes four days ago, when Spencer used it for the first time.

“Do not call me like that. You have no right.”

“Daisies have always been your favourite. I remember it pretty well! You’d always ask me to bring you daisies for your birthday.” – your father continues, ignoring your previous order – “It was your mother’s favourite flower.”

“Don't ever mention her again.”

“Why not? Your mother loved you.”

You tighten your hands in fists, breathing through your nose. Spencer can see your chest heaving through every breath, your body is shaking with anger. He’s tempted to step in and pull you away from your father, but he doesn’t.

You didn’t order him to move.

“God sprinkled daisies over the Earth to cheer up parents who had lost a child. Did you know that?”

You don’t answer him.

Your mother loved that flower. She said you were her Daisy, you were everything she ever wanted after she lost her first child. You were her daisy, that little delicate flower born out of love between two people suffering a terrible loss.

“Daisy... Don’t be so upset with me.”

“Upset?” – you ask, forcing yourself to remain calm – “I’m not upset, I’m furious. You are the reason why I turned out like this.”

Your father stares at you, grinning as if he just won the lottery. He’s behaving exactly like you did when you were interrogated by Agent Jareau: cocky, arrogant, annoying.

“Blaming me for how you grew up? That’s sad.”

You let out a bitter chuckle. “Sad? That’s the truth, Father.”

“How so?” – he asks, surprised by your reaction and your words – “I raised you to be an incredible person. Smart, kind, defensive.”

“A monster.”

“A monster? No, that’s all you.” – he mumbles, smirking at the way you’re behaving right now – “I didn’t raise a monster, I raised a person with morals and values. You did the rest. Society and the horrible world we live in did the rest.”

You take a step further, placing both your hands on the table. “You told me that everyone around me is there to get me, to ruin my life, to use me. You made me into a monster. I did the rest.”

Your father smiles proudly, watching you sit back again. “And what did you do, Daisy? Did you show the world the legacy of our family? Did you show the world how invincible and capable of everything we are?”

It’s your turn to chuckle.

“Invincible? You’re in prison.”

“You put me here.”

“I did not do such thing, Father.” – you spit out, giving him another smile – “I was a child when you did what you did.”

He grits his teeth. “I never touched you.”

“You didn’t.” – you brush the tip of your index over your bottom lip, trying to push the memories out of your brain – “But you told him to do it. You told him to raise me as his, to love me like one of his children when all the damage was already done.”

Your father goes silent, staring at you.

He knows damn well what you’re talking about.

“Don’t you remember the walks we used to take in the woods behind our home? Don’t you remember how you showed me the effects of poison on someone’s body?”

“That was your mother’s job.”

You laugh again, throwing your head back. “No, no. She was a good woman, she was smart. Which is why she ran away from you when she had a chance.”

“If she was a good woman, why did she leave you with me?”

The question hits you hard right in the chest, breaking the last piece of your heart and mending all the other pieces together. You knew he was going to get there and you knew it was going to break you down completely.

You were expecting every word that came out of his mouth.

Your father taught you how to plan these conversations. He told you how to behave, how to answer, how to maintain a calm and collected stand.

“She saw the monster you were raising.”

You stand and take a step back, leaning against the glass in front of your father. Spencer is right behind it and he places his hands where yours are, as if he’s trying to let you know that he’s still here. That he’s not going to leave you in such a situation.

“She taught me every trick you couldn’t. She knew I was going to be like you and she tried to protect me, until she couldn’t anymore.”

“What did she teach you, Daisy? How to plant those stupid flowers she was obsessed with?”

You smirk, nodding your head. “Yes. She did, Father.”

Pushing the table away from him, you stand right in front of him. He looks up at you and you can see the fear behind those dark eyes that reminds you of the darkness you’ve been through.

All of those sleepless nights, begging for your mother to come home so he could stop talking.

All those cold nights, begging for the police to answer your call so he could stop coming home.

All of those disturbing silences where you cried yourself to sleep, knowing that he was touching someone.

You had to grow up on your own.

Leaning forward, your lips brush against your father’s right ear. “Burying a body and covering it with endangered plants is what she taught me.”

Spencer’s ears perk up at your words. This is your confession.

“It’s illegal to dig them up. And even if it isn’t, the police can’t dig the flowers up with the intent of transplanting it.” – you whisper, smirking and not remembering there’s an FBI agent alone in the other room – “Most endangered species are resistant to farming, planting and transplanting. Do you know what that means?”

Your father answers quickly. “They’ll never find your work.”

“No, Father.” – you correct him, shaking your head – “They’ll never prove I did anything. They’ll never punish me, they’ll never lock me up.”

He stares at you with his heart pounding in his chest. “You...”

You raise your brows, crossing your arms to your chest. “What? What else do you want to say to me?”

“You... truly are my daughter.”

“No, I’m my mother’s daughter.”

And with that, you slip a hand down your boot to grab the vial. Breaking the lid with your nails, you grab your father by the chin.

He’s squirming, he’s yelling, he’s doing anything in his power to save himself but this is not going to end well for him. You don’t care if somebody hears you, you don’t care if they’re going to lock you up – you’d go to prison with closed eyes if it meant you got to kill your father.

You don’t give a fuck, you want him dead.

“Die like a man, Father!” – you growl, sprinkling the arsenic down in his throat – “I’m no Daisy, Father. I’m a Black-eyed Susan who came back for justice.”

The intense smell of garlic fills the room as you watch your father swallow the high amount of arsenic down his throat, immediately having its effect. Your father coughs and turns, yelling at the top of his lungs as saliva starts to drip out of his mouth.

You know the poison is working.

Spencer, on the other side of the glass, covers his mouth with both hands. He takes a step back, whining at the sight right in front of him: you’re killing your father. You had a job to carry out your personal agenda, and you’re completing it. You want him to die, to disappear from this Earth, to vanish into thin air after ruining your life for years.

Spencer sees the determination in your eyes, how the sight in front of you is turning you on. You had the chance to kill your father, to finally put an end to his miserable life – and oh, how Spencer envies you. No matter how many times he thought about it, he couldn’t even begin to try and kill his own father.

But now...

Maybe he can.

With you, maybe Spencer can find his father and kill him. You can give him the chance to do what he has always wanted to do.

“How does that feel, Father? Do you feel the poison burning your throat?” – you whisper in his ear, yanking his head – “Do you feel any numbness in your fingers? In your toes? Do you feel the poison slowly killing you from the insides?”

Your father gasps for air, staring at you with widened eyes.

You smirk, turning around to look at Spencer through the glass. You can’t see him, you can’t feel him but you know what he’s doing. You know what he's feeling, you know how excited he is right now and you feel the same.

You can’t wait to get back at him, but first... there’s something else you should do.

You take off your hairpiece from the back of your head, showing your father the sharp knife at the end of it. You don’t know how the guards didn’t notice it, how they let you go without worrying about your angelic face.

How can an innocent flower like you be so deadly?

“They won’t find you in time, Father.” – you run the tip of the knife underneath his throat –“You will die here, all alone. Nobody will care, nobody will feel for you. Everyone will be happy to know you died inside this shithole.”

You pull away, laughing out loud with a hand over your belly.

Spencer is in shock.

“And I... I will finally get the revenge I’ve been dying for.”

When the knife dives into the tender skin of his neck, right against the carotid, you feel a rush of adrenaline run through your body. Your brain lights up like a Christmas tree and the pinching metallic scent of blood fills your lungs, watching the red liquid spill out from the cut.

You laugh again, this time hysterically.

You know this sensation very well: it’s almost orgasmic.

“This is all because of you.” – you growl, stabbing him again right over his heart – “You ruined my childhood, you took away my innocence and replaced it with an illness no one can cure me from.”

There’s blood on your clothes, on the floor, on the wall behind your father.

Normally you’d clean everything up, you’d bring all the necessities to take away the stains from the floor but this time... You don’t care. Seeing your father’s blood all around you makes you feel good, it brings you a pleasure that you’ve never felt before – not even after your first kill.

Right now you feel invincible.

And you are, because you’ve finally got your final revenge.

“But guess what, Father?” – you lean forward, gritting your teeth – “Thank you for giving me a purpose to survive all of this.”

You push his chair behind and he stumbles, his body falling limp against the table. You can feel his ragged breath, you can see his fingers struggling to wiggle and the garlic smell radiating from his skin.

This is how he deserved to die.

By your hands.

By his own daughter’s doing.

By his own daughter revenging her mother and all of those victims.

Spencer taps his hands over the glass, but you can barely hear him through the blood rushing through your veins and running straight to your lower abdomen. Killing someone has never given you such sexual pleasure, but right now you’re more aroused than ever – and you know Spencer is, too.

“H-Help.”

“What’s that, Father? You want someone to come here and help you?”

His hands open on the table as you stab his left one, watching the blade go through his skin. He hisses, his breath reaching an alarmingly slow pace.

“Now you know how it feels to cry for help and not have anybody come to save you.”

You pull out the blade from his hand and push the door open, immediately running towards the door where Spencer is located. You’re covered in blood and you smell like arsenic, which is why you desperately need to get out of there before the damage gets worse.

Spencer opens the door for you, staring at you with widened eyes.

You push him inside, forcing him to stumble towards the chair and whine at the sensation. You slam the door shut and you’re immediately all over him, crushing your mouth against his.

This is the first time you let a man kiss you in such a long time, but you’re so lost in the warmth of his arms around you and his tongue pressing against yours that you forget what’s happening on the other side of the room. While Spencer is taking advantage of the moment and running his hands all over you, your father is dying and the sensation... It has never felt better.

Gasping at the contact, you stumble back with him against the table in the middle of the room. A desperate moan slips out of his lips and vanishes into your mouth, forcing you to pull back and grit your teeth.

“What’s that, Bee? Did you like the show I put on for you?” – you whisper, quickly pushing your panties down your legs – “Did you enjoy watching me stab him over and over? Or did you love how angry I was?”

Spencer tangles his fingers in your hair, moaning against your neck as he tries to bite it. “Yes. You looked so fucking good, Daisy. I couldn’t... I...”

“Oh, is my Bee too dumb to speak?” – you chuckle, pushing him down on his knees – “If you can’t use your mouth to speak, why don’t you put it to use between my legs?”

His eyes perk up at your words, bringing his hands to your hips. “Yes. Yes, please. I’d do anything to taste you, let me do it.”

You run your fingers through his curls, gripping them tightly. “You beg beautifully, but that’s not enough, Bee.”

Spencer whines at your response, grasping your skirt and pushing it up to expose your thighs. The warmth of his fingers pressing into your skin melts your insides, eliciting a moan out of your lips that vanishes into the room when Spencer calls out your name again.

“Please, I promise you I’ll be good.” – he mumbles, peppering your inner thigh with kisses – “Let me taste you, Daisy. Let me prove to you how good I can make you feel.”

Satisfied enough with his words. You tug on his curls once again. You want him to look you in the eyes while he devours you, while he tastes the sweetness of your heat and drags you to the edge of your desire booming through your body. You want him to break down while he breaks you down.

Spencer’s eyes are watery, he’s truly desperate to taste you.

It’s pathetic, but so incredibly exciting.

You’re getting some deserved love from a man on his knees for you, while there’s another man on the other side of the glass gasping for air and begging someone to help him. That whole situation is so incredibly hot, you could come just at the thought.

“Go ahead, Bee.” – you whisper, loosening your grip on his curls – “Prove me how desperate you are.”

Spencer spreads your thighs with his hands, settling your legs over your shoulders. He buries his face between your legs and gently nips at the soft skin of your inner thigh, focusing on the daisy tattoo you have on your right side.

The tip of his tongue runs along the black ink, making you hiss at the sensation. It’s been so long since a man has gone down on you and you’ve missed it, but now that an FBI agent is doing it... It’s even fucking better.

“Go on, Bee.”

Spencer immediately obeys to your order, dragging his tongue through your folds to collect your wetness. Your salty taste drives him even wilder as you push his face between your legs, moaning out loud.

You don’t care if you get caught.

Spencer focuses on your clit, sucking it gently before moaning with his eyes still on your face. You look gorgeous with your head thrown back.

“I know you can do better than that, you fucking slut.” – you growl, tightening your grip on his curls – “Use your fingers.”

Spencer moans when your grip gets even tighter than before, focusing on your clit while teasing your entrance with the tip of his fingers. He’s going to show you how good he is at this, how desperate he is to fuck you and how worthy of you he is.

Slipping his index inside of you, you clench around him. “Fuck, Bee. Feels so fucking good, keep going.”

You roll your hips against his face, feeling the tension in your lower abdomen get stronger and more overwhelming each second. You’re not going to last long, but you don’t care – you crave the release, that explosion of oxytocin and dopamine through your bloodstream that leaves you high and satisfied.

“You taste so fucking good, Daisy. I wish I could do this for hours.”

You smirk at his words. “I know, Bee. Give me everything, come on.”

Spencer pumps his finger in and out of your heat, watching the wetness coating the palm of his hand. He could come at the sight.

And a few seconds later, with his mouth assaulting your clit and a second finger pushing deep inside of you, he comes. Tasting you while you’re dripping in blood and knowing there’s a man on the other side of the glass dying, turns him more than anything.

Spencer is a sick man, but he doesn’t care.

He can be sick with you from now on.

You notice how he jolts with his mouth still attached to your clit, sucking on it harshly while his two fingers work rapidly inside of you.

“Did you just come without asking me for premisson, you fucking whore?” – you ask, widening your eyes as the pleasure gets stronger – “Fuck, keep... Keep fucking me like that, Bee.”

You’ll curse him out later, now you just want to feel all you can.

And so you do, crumbling down each second that passes until you can do nothing but moan his name.

With your head thrown back and your thighs closing around his head, you feel yourself tethering over the edge.

Until you jump and the tension in your body snaps.

You come undone on his tongue, trembling and shaking while crying out his name. You pull his hair, you gasp for air and you roll your hips, trying to ride your orgasm to the fullest.

Spencer doesn’t seem to be able to stop tasting you, sucking your clit and pumping his fingers even faster inside of you.

“I know what you’re doing, slut.” – you hiss, covering his hand with yours – “You came without telling me. Without begging me to let you.”

Spencer pulls away just enough for you to land a slap on his smooth cheek, still covered in your own arousal. Instead of whining and complaining about the pain, Spencer lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard.

You smirk. “What was that, Bee?”

He looks at you, his eyes shining under the faint lights inside the room. “I... Sorry, Daisy. I didn’t mean to, I’m... You just taste so fucking good. I got...”

“Did my Bee get all worked up while eating my pussy?” – you coo, grasping him by the chin and tilting it upward – “Did my Bee come because of how good I taste?”

Spencer nods eagerly, licking his bottom lip and tasting your arousal again. “Yes, I did. I’m so sorry.”

Hopping down from the table, you force him to stand back up while tugging on his tie. You don’t want to waste any time: you want to have him, you want to wreck him for good.

But that can’t happen there.

“Give me your coat. Let’s walk out of here before someone sees us.”

Spencer doesn’t complain, his legs feel wobbly after that embarrassing orgasm. The mixture between the embarrassment of coming untouched and the excitement of maybe finally being able to own you, to mark you so deeply, is making Spencer feel dizzy.

Dizzier than before.

“Here, wear it.”

You put on his coat, closing it on your chest so that no one can see the blood. Spencer is right behind you, with an arm wrapped around your shoulders as he walks out of the room.

Your panties are in the pocket of his coat.

There’s no guard to be seen around you, which is weird. Why aren’t they there? Weren’t they supposed to wait for you?

You don’t care, running with Spencer towards a secret entrance. He knows that prison really well, mostly because he was right here a couple of months ago for another case.

Spencer knows where to go without being seen.

Leading you out of the prison without a hiccup, Spencer tells you to run before you get caught.

You laugh, you run, you laugh again, you run until you have no air in your lungs but the oxytocin is still booming through you. Your thighs are humid and your feet are wobbly, but you’re happy – and you’re satisfied, because you just closed a chapter in your life.

You spot the car you and Spencer rent not too far from you, so you run to it when you feel a pair of strong arms around you.

Spencer spins you around, immediately kissing you hard with both his hands on your face. You don’t complain, sharing the kiss and moaning into his mouth while you unbuckle his belt.

“Fuck me, Bee. I want you to fuck me.”

Spencer doesn’t need to be asked twice, he’s been waiting and dying to do this.

“Gladly, Daisy.” – Spencer says, pulling away from your lips just to talk – “But first, we need to get in the car. As much as I’d love to take you right here, in front of everybody, I don’t think I’m ready to share your body.”

You run your fingers through his curls, nodding. “It’s all yours now, Bee.”

He proved to you that he’s being serious about all of this. He wants to be with you, he wants to make you happy – and he did, by letting you kill your own father.

You might actually like Spencer.

Spencer opens the car door and jumps inside, sitting down as you hop on his thighs. You don’t want to waste any time, you want him.

And you want him now.

You shut the car door while Spencer unbuckles his belt. You raise your hips just enough for him to push his trousers down enough to give you what you need.

“You, my Bee, are everything I’ve waited my whole life for.” – you whisper, peppering his mouth with kisses while you align yourself with his already hard cock – “Everything I’ve always wanted.”

Spencer closes his arms around your waist. “Daisy...”

You gently shut him up with more kisses, sitting on his cock and feeling it stretch you out. Inch by inch, you welcome him in your tight heat as a chorus of moans flows from your lips and from his.

Your whole body is trembling with desire as Spencer pushes his coat off your body, running his hands all over you.

“Fuck, Daisy... You feel so good.”

Whining on your mouth, you smirk when his hands reach your nipples underneath your shirt.

“You feel even better, Bee.”

Spencer attaches his mouth to your neck, nibbling the tender skin of your throat and dragging his teeth along it. He wants to mark you, to leave you with something that won’t fade away.

Holding you by your hips, Spencer helps you settle at a slow pace. You roll your hips, moaning when Spencer’s tongue caresses your throat and dances underneath all the little red marks caused by his teeth.

You’ve never felt like this before.

You didn’t think it was possible to feel something like this.

“Don’t ever leave me, Bee.”

Spencer doesn’t answer you, too focused on the way your hips are bouncing up and down his cock. Pushing it further and further inside of you, he can feel the tension building within his lower stomach as your body stiffens.

“Fuck, you feel so good.”

You can’t say anything else, too lost in the pleasure of the moment to realise that Spencer is staring at you. He’s admiring the way you’re arching your back, the way your eyes are shut, the way your chest heavens and how stunning you look right now.

Satisfied, hungry, wrecked.

He’s the cause of that, not you.

“Keep going, Daisy. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel, please.” – Spencer whimpers, parting his lips and holding your breasts with his hands – “You feel so good, oh...”

You let your head fall onto his shoulder, rolling your hips and following the pace of his thrusts as he bucks up into you. You can feel him everywhere around you, inside of you, in your head, pressed to your body.

You’re covered in him and you don’t want this moment to end.

“I’m close. Fuck me harder, Bee. I want it to hurt.”

Spencer obeys your order with his eyes settled on his face, watching how you’re crumbling down because of him. Your whole body is stiffening, heaving through every breath as you clench hard around his cock.

He’s close too.

“Come inside of me. Please, I want it inside of me.” – you cry out, now allowing a tear to slide down your cheek as you brush it away – “Give it to me, Bee. Please.”

Spencer slides his hands down to your sides, before bringing them up to your cheeks. You’re so close you can even taste the pleasure on the tip of your tongue as it pushes against his.

Kissing Spencer has never felt so good.

You can feel your walls flutter against him. Spencer rolls his hips and guides your every move, moaning into your mouth and kissing yours with even more passion.

“C-Coming..”

You don’t even form a complete sentence because your whole body convulses around his cock as you come undone for the second time.

Your eyes roll in the back of your head as his movements falter, slowing the pace down until he almost stops completely. Spencer moans loudly into your mouth as he comes deep inside of you, flooding you with his desire and his loyalty to you.

A loyalty that no one can buy.

No one.

“Daisy, Daisy...”

You hide your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin and inhaling the soft scent of his body. You don’t want to let go of the moment, you just want it to last forever. Coming down from such a high is difficult, but Spencer is there to help you out through it.

Silence fills the car as you steady your breathing, humming when Spencer pulls out of you. You can feel his cum mixed with yours dripping out of your body and onto the seat, but you don’t care. You’re too lost in the moment and in your strong need to hold Spencer – and to be held – to notice.

Spencer bumps his nose against your forehead, gently tilting your face upward. You stare into those honey coloured eyes, completely lost in your own greed for this boy and your own love – a love that doesn’t make sense, a love that seems so wrong in this moment, but a love that feels right.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you, Bee.”

Spencer kisses you feverishly, savouring the taste of your lips on his. “I told you I’d do this for you.”

You give him a smile, slowly pulling away from his body and sitting on the other seat by his seat. The steering wheel makes it difficult for you to sit down comfortably, but you don’t care – your body is still bathing in that deep desire you fell in.

You will remember this day forever.

“Daisy...”

You turn your head to look at him. “Yes, Bee?”

Spencer opens the car door on his side, buckling his belt and fixing his pants. His curls are unruly and his face is clearly the face of a man who just got some good sex – a sex he won’t be able to forget in a very long time, a sex that will haunt him for the rest of his life with the promise of a life with you.

A life he can’t have.

A life he won’t have.

“I’m so sorry.”

Confused, you push your skirt down to cover your thighs. “What are you sorry for, Bee?”

Spencer gets off the car before you could open your mouth. And when you do, it’s too late.

Agent Jareau and Agent Prentiss are staring at you outside of the car, with their guns pointed at you. Agent Alvez is grabbing Spencer by the arms, pulling him away before you could do anything to him.

Everything crashes down on you.

His promise.

The deal.

You confessed. He took you to your father.

Spencer Reid respected the deal. He used you, he made you think he wanted you.

He lied.

“Put your hands up, Daisy.” – Spencer says, pulling out the gun from his ankle holster – “You’re under arrest for the murder of Richard Benson, Taylor Camden, Jeff Griffin, Kenny Wagstaff, Dexter Sullivan, Rohan Fletcher and all the others.”

Incapable of uttering a single word, you raise both your hands.

“You’re also under arrest for assaulting and kidnapping two federal agents.” – Agent Jareau exclaims, keeping her directed at your face – “Keep your hands up and get out of the car.”

Betrayed and disgusted by what’s happening, you follow the Fed’s orders.

Keeping your hands up in the air and pushing the car door open, you get out of it. Your eyes never leave Spencer’s, trying to detect some kind of sadness behind them – but there’s nothing.

Before, he was looking at you as if you were the most precious of his possessions. He was into you, he was kissing you like he would’ve died for you. He held you and owned you like you deserved to be owned, like you were meant to be loved by him and only by him.

And now you’re nothing.

You’ve always been nothing to him, purely a means to an end. A task, a job – just like Griffin and Richard.

A single tear escapes your eye as Doctor Reid handcuffs you, forcing your hands behind your back. You tilt your head just enough to look at him. you want him to know how hurt you are and how disgusted you are because of his behaviour.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions.” – Spencer says, keeping his eyes on your face the whole time – “You have the right to a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time.”

Dragging you away towards a black van, you stay silent. Your eyes are low on the ground as you kick the sand underneath your sandals, watching it disappear into the air.

You cannot believe this has happened.

You thought it was real. You played his game without realising it was a trap.

Just like Richard, Spencer betrayed you.

“Bee...” – you start to say when Spencer opens the back door of the van – “Look at me, Bee.”

Spencer doesn’t want to, because every single person on his team is staring at him. What if they see what you’ve seen through these four days with him? What if they understand that deep down he cares about you and wants you safe? What if they accuse him of being your accomplice, when he was just doing his job?

His team will defend him until they all die, to prevent him from going back to prison. He will face the consequences of his own actions of his own accord, but you... Oh, he hasn’t thought about your thirst for revenge.

He hasn’t thought or imagined the way your rage is bubbling inside of you.

Finally, Spencer looks up at you.

You have a tear streaming down your face, making your eyes shine even more. Your nose is red, your hair is a mess and your heart is broken – but revenge will mend it. Revenge will make everything taste so deliciously better than it has ever tasted.

“When the flower blossoms, the bee will come.”

Taking a step back, Spencer moves his eyes to your face.

Your words, the quote of Srikumar Rao ringing in his head over and over again.

Spencer looks into your eyes until the doors of the van close right in front of him, leaving him to drown in regret and longing for you.

Inside, you are left alone, drowning in your thirst for revenge.

The quiet sound of his footsteps echoes through the stairs as the slow music playing in his earphones comes to an end. There’s a faint smell of vanilla lingering in the air as the woman with black heels walks in front of Spencer, holding her purse in her right hand and a pile of papers in the other one.

She’s talking on the phone, probably fighting with someone at home. Her hair is carefully tied in a high ponytail at the back of her head, as the clicking sound of her heels gets further and further away from where Spencer is standing.

The nauseating scent of vanilla is choking him.

Where’s the scent of flowers?

He misses it.

It’s been eight months since he has felt that floral scent mixing with his, melting him from the inside and giving him a purpose to go on, to survive another day by your side. Spencer hasn’t stopped thinking about you for many different reasons.

From the way you kissed him one last time, to how you controlled him with your tongue after killing two men in cold blood.

Spencer walks down the hallway, reaching his apartment in silence. This morning he wasn’t feeling too well, probably because he couldn’t sleep the night before. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you looked at him ever so sweetly while kissing him, while making love to him.

Were you making love to him?

Spencer felt like you were, because you were purposely slowing your movements. You wanted those moments to last, those kisses to bruise your lips, his teeth to leave red marks all over your skin, the desire to have him fill you up and invade your senses until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer felt like choking inside of you, as if you killed him and brought him back to life with that last kiss.

The young doctor opens the door of his apartment and drops his leather satchel to the floor, kicking his shoes somewhere. He doesn’t want to think about you, he can’t poison another one of his nights with the thought of your touch all over him – he needs to stop.

He had to let you go, he had to complete a task.

And even though he regrets everything, he knows there’s no way to go back.

Spencer looks at the calendar next to the entrance, sighing softly.

It’s March 20th, the day of the vernal equinox. The event occurs when the Sun crosses the equator line, heading north. This event marks the beginning of the spring season in the northern half of the globe. The length of day and night is nearly equal in all parts of the world and the amount of sunlight hours increases.

Unbuttoning his blouse with one hand, Spencer turns the lights in his apartment on.

There’s something wrong there.

Furrowing his brows, Spencer looks around his living room. He can’t pinpoint what’s wrong, but there’s something out of place there. But where? He doesn’t remember rushing out this morning, he wasn’t late for work – he’s never late, obviously.

That’s when he sees it.

Spencer’s heart drops to his chest.

His eyes find the source of this peculiar sensation spreading at the pit of his stomach and through the rest of his body, that weird sickness that has been bothering him since the beginning of the week.

Two flowers.

A dried, dead daisy has its stem intertwined with a burgundy black dahlia.

They’re laying on his desk on top of a white note, where all of his files are sitting and his pens are scattered all over. He was supposed to grade his students’ papers, he was supposed to focus on his part-time job at a college, he was supposed to relax tonight.

But of course, you have other plans.

Spencer takes a step forward, looking around the room to see if he feels you, if he catches your scent in the air, but he can’t – you’re not there, you can’t be there. You’re locked away, you’re in prison and he hasn’t seen you since your sentence in court.

The dry, dead Daisy is staring at him with a clear message: Daisy is dead.

The black Dahlia, with its dark and symbolic colour, is screaming a clear message: you have betrayed me. You have used me. You have broken my trust. You have lied to me.

And the note... Spencer doesn’t want to touch it. You’re a master with poison, what if you poisoned it too?

But then again, Spencer knows you would never hurt him. No matter how much you hate him, no matter how he betrayed you to get to his goal – he’s still your bee. He’s still the man that allowed you to get to your last target, to the target that started everything, to the monster who raised you and turned you into the invincible creature that you are now.

A creature that craves revenge.

Not a Daisy anymore, but a beautiful, dangerous black Dahlia.

Spencer pushes the flowers off the note, picking it up and turning it.

“Spring has arrived, my sweet, innocent Bee.”

Spencer smiles. A bitter, frightened smile.

You’re coming for him.

NSFW taglist: @softreidx @getyoutmoon, @bookishspencer @calm-and-doctor @nazifa94 @srhxpci @eevee0722 @reichelhache @aperrywilliams @escapingrealities @beepbooptoop @alfonsais @lil-stark @muffin-cup @allexthakatt @nomajdetective @gyllord @winterwhore @pauline5525mgg @hotchandspencearedilfs @matthewgraygublerwife @avocadopenguins @reidsmilf @bohemianrhapsody86 @joy-soul-gallery @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @sweetandsunny @starrylang @void-m-stilinski @alexxavicry @addievermore @safespacespence @enchantedengland @baby-reid @safer-to-kiss @xsarcasticwriterx @teenwolfbitches28 @reidsbookclub @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @lilibet261 @justreadingficsdontmindme @lolalee24 @stcrryjoon @trishmarieofficial @mrnx @geekykeen @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @lolalee24

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid smut imagine #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x unsub!reader #unsub!spencer x unsub!reader #the daisy and the bee #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!y/n

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myafterlifeisbetterthenyours · 3 years ago

Note

Can you do Stolas with an imp and the imp falling for Stolas but hiding it, Stolas eventually finding out and confessing he felt the same? With Stolas being *ahem* himself per say

Stolas with Imp S/O

Youd worked all over Hell, in many occupations. From cooking to cleaning and a wide variety of maintenance.

And with your extensive experience in so many fields, it wasnt difficult to get a job serving in the prestigious Goetia Palace.

You got used to your duties quickly, thoroughly cleaning the east wing when lord Stolas walked by.

Now you'd only had a brief interaction with the owl Demon during your time at the palace, but by all rights he seemed a decent fellow, at least by Demonic Overlord standards.

However, as he passed by he was confronted by his wife. His wife, Lady Stella, went off on him, demanding to know if he'd prepared for a gathering later that day.

You knew about the gathering, and it was very clear Stolas had not prepared for it.

You watched as the owl sputtered and tripped over his words as he desperately tried to explain to his wife why he hadn't prepared for it.

You don't really know why you did it, most Imps would give an arm and a leg to see a noble being given a thrashing by there wives.

But Stolas didn't deserve such a thing, so you stepped forwards, apologising on his behalf.

Telling her you were still new to the job and he was helping you with an urgent matter and that's why he was unable to prepare for the gathering.

Stella stared at you for a long moment and just when you thought she'd say something, she smacked you clean across the face.

Between Stella's inherent strength and your small size, the smack sent you into the nearest wall.

Stella told you coldly to never distract her husband again, and NEVER address her in such an insolent manner ever again.

Stolas was indignant, yelling at her that that was completely unnecessary. Getting her to out of the room he rushed to your side, ensuring you were alright.

Asking if you were alright, you told him It hurt like Hell, but you'd gone through worse. You had a chuckle before the owl thanked you for stepping in like that, asking why you'd do such a thing.

You told him up front, he was probably the best boss you'd had and you couldn't just watch him be chewed out like that.

After that incident, you found yourself with a day off. Although it was explained by a scheduling issue, you always thought of it as a thank you, from Stolas.

After that, however, Stolas seemed to keep you close, personally asking you to attend to tasks he was unable to, and over time you grew to be his go to Imp when he needed something important done.

You quickly made yourself indispensable to the Prince, using your diverse skill set you could handle just about anything he threw your way.

You would organise his day to day, tell him when and were something important was happening, you were basically his personal assistant and as such you were basically attached at the hip, doing everything and anything to support your Prince.

You spent the majority of your waking hours with the Stolas, and much to your growing dread, you found yourself falling for the Prince.

I mean he didn't make it easy on you. The fucking owl seemed to go out of his way to be as adorable as possible, acting like a big child. And it didn't help that he was genuinely kind to you, caring for you as more than just an asset. He treated you like a respected being.

And getting such attention from a noble, was... intoxicating.

A touch, a smile. The Owls harmonious laughter at some stupid joke you made, it was borderline addictive.

But as much as you may... crave~ his attention, you could never reveal these feelings.

You may be his favourite Imp, but you were an Imp none the less. You were so far beneath him there was no chance you could even hope to gain his attention.

And as much as that tore you up inside, you accepted that. Deciding instead to channel that affection in a way that would best serve your prince.

Stolas was quite fond of you.

He was so used to people only helping him in return for something, But you were different. You served him while asking for nothing in return.

His colder, aristocratic side would say you were just doing your duty, just serving like a good little Imp should.

But he could tell. You went above and beyond serving him, helping him in every endeavour he faced.

Over time, he noticed you becoming more affectionate, being more open and light hearted, treating him more like a friend than a Prince, like everyone else did. Something the Owl found intoxicating in its own right.

Of course he had his Owlet for unconditional love and affection, but your affectionate had this strange affect on him. You were kind to him, asking nothing in return, and that made him all fuzzy inside.

But just as he came to enjoy your affection, feeling like he had something to make the cold and cut throat reality of nobility bearable, you pulled back. You became more formal, like all the others in his life that served him.

And while at first he had hoped it was just a temporary hiccup, it quickly got to a point stolas couldn't take it anymore.

The owl ended up using every trick he could think of to figure out just why you'd pulled back.

It was somewhat underhanded, but one night, after you'd said goodnight, Stolas used his Grimoire and observed your unconcious mind. But he never would have expected what he saw.

He got a full view of how you viewed him.

He didn't know if he should be flattered or shocked, as in your eyes he was on parr with a diety.

He was this being of pure mercy and kindness, so far above you, you held your feelings back because you believed there was no way you could get close to him.

Your dream slowly morphed to reveal how terrified you were of admitting it, an all consuming fear that such information would destroy the relationship you held as the most important thing in your life.

Stolas was in shock.

Afterwards he spent the whole night thinking about you.

He couldnt deny he had strong feelings towards you.

After all, you'd always gone above and beyond for him, you were his most trusted and beloved servant, and... he liked to think of you as his friend.

But now that he knew your dedication was fuelled by love, it gave him a whole new perspective to your behaviour.

The way you smiled at him.

The way you laughed at his jokes.

The way you stuck close to him, the way you got defensive on his behalf, so much so you'd started fights with other staff members whom had disrespected him.

All these actions had once seemed so innocent, seemingly coming from your deep sense of loyalty and commitment.

But now, he knew they came from a place of love and devotion.

He spent the whole night thinking it over, pacing his office, deep in thought.

But no matter how hard he thought about it, he always reached the same conclusion.

He loved you.

He knew it was crazy. After all, he had a family. He had a loving- er... Well, he had a wife.

He had a beautiful daughter, and yet here he was, having unknowingly fallen for an Imp.

He went over it a hundred times and every time he thought about it he simply couldn't deny his feelings for you.

You were kind, loving and selfless. Youd always seemed to put his needs above your own And for Stolas, whom had never know selfless love. He realised it was all hed ever wanted.

Now Stolas had to decide what to do with this information.

Unfortunately Stolas couldn't keep a secret from you to save his life, you could simply read him to well.

And it wouldn't take long for him to crack, finding it impossible to keep such a major secret from you.

He'd get you somewhere private, using the excuse of business to get you alone.

Once he was confident you wouldn't be interrupted, he'd basically pin you to a wall, the owl hesitating for a moment before telling you, he knew.

You tried to play it off, telling him you didn't know what he was talking about.

Only for Stolas to snap at you, telling you, you knew exactly what he was talking about.

He leaned in close, whispering he knew you loved him.

You tried to stay composed, but internally you were freaking. Doing your best to keep calm and play it off.

The problem was Stolas was so close, you could smell his morning coffee and he was staring right at you, not giving you any time to calm down and think of a clever excuse.

But you couldn't. You couldn't lie to his face.

So you confessed, you confessed to loving him. You confessed you loved him more than anything, more then you knew how to handle. So you hid it from him.

There was a long silence.

You expected him to drop you, throw you to the side and tell you to get out of his sight, or maybe just kill you then and there.

But he didn't, instead he... he kissed you.

He planted a deep passionate kiss right on the lips, and... and you just couldn't help but return it. You wrapped your smaller arms around his neck, giving him your all.

Breaking the kiss, Stolas cupped your cheek and you were left stunned once again, when he told you... He loved you too.

You were so happy you were almost in tears, holding Stolas so close you almost feared you'd snap him in half, the two of you sharing a moment of joy and warmth.

You pressed your forheads and for the first time in both your lives you held someone you knew loved you for you close.

You held each other close for a long while, Stolas pressing you against his chest. Leaning back, you just smiled at each other.

It was a warm little smile, a smile you gave to someone you cared for deeply.

Scratching your neck, you asked him "What comes next?"

A devious little smile crossed his lips as he stared down at you, a predatory glow to his crimson gaze.

He carried you briskly to the nearest bedroom, carrying you to the bed he dropped you, pressing you against the bed.

Sliding his hands up your shirt, he purred down at you, "After all you've done for me, I think it's only fair..." He licked his lips, "I return the favour."

He stripped you down slowly, trailing kisses across your body.

You spent the night together, wrapped in throws of passion, Stolas doing his very best to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

You went at it long into the night, you pouring all the love and affection you'd repressed for so long.

There being one particular moment where the owl lost his mind when you flipped him over, pinning him down and took control.

You went at it until you collapsed in each other's embrace.

The next morning was like a whole new reality for you two. You held each other close and just relished the new found love you had for each other.

Your relationship would continue in secret, the both of you desperate to keep this new flame alive. Your position as his right hand Imp enabling you to stay close and be with him in private without raising any suspicion.

The two of you had frequent little 'rendezvous', where ever, when ever you wanted too without much issue.

Stolas' favourite was having a quick romp in the car on the way home from a meeting.

As amazing as your romance would be, there would always be a risk hanging over, something you were always cautious of. Although your concerns were dismissed by Stolas and you really found it hard to stay focused around him.

But as perfext as your relationship was, it would all come crashing down when you were discovered by Stella.

Now Stella's reaction could vary drastically depending on the nature of there marriage.

If Stella genuinely loved Stolas, she'd likely loose her shit.

Going off on Stolas while also likely try to kill you.

The family would be divided much like with Blitzø, although this time you would actually be there to support Stolas emotionally, not to mention you'd likely have a decent chance of getting along with Octavia.

But If there union was, say, more business than personal. Well... terms could be reached.

She'd still likely freak out, but Stolas could temper her fury before it could get out of hand.

They could reach an accord, you and him could be together so long as your relationship never sees the light of day.

After that, your relationship went up a notch, Stolas not having to hold back like before, he would basically go feral with you, spending every available second wrapped in a passionate embrace with you.

#helluva boss #headcanon #helluva boss headcanon #x reader #helluva boss x reader #helluva stolas #helluva boss stolas #stolas x reader #stolas #stolas deserves some love #stolas is a big softy

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space-city-traffic · 3 years ago

Text

yet again im back on my bullshit so... (gazes with mixed feelings at the TV show Firefly) i could fix him.

my extremely long thoughts about my Own Personal Good Version of Firefly (with plenty of spoilers for the show and the movie) under the cut:

things that are getting axed first thing no question:

out with the whole “let’s add in a thin veneer of Chinese cultural aesthetics out of context for ~flavor~” deal. just no.

instead, let’s hire some actors from a bunch of different cultures and work with them to figure out how their characters would bring those cultures into space with them!! and also hopefully bring some experiences with immigration/alienation/travel into it, since the Whole Core of Firefly is about how humanity always brings our doomed and silly and stubborn and unique warmth with us even into the cold void where nothing is familiar or homey in the slightest.

let’s respect our sex worker character shall we?

i do appreciate that Inara’s work as a companion is described as legitimate and well respected in the show. however please stop having your captain and hero call her a wh*re every five seconds against her clearly expressed wishes and portraying this as just a totally acceptable thing

let’s be more respectful of our characters of color and also have some more diversity, shall we?

others have put it better than me but yeah, the way Zoe and Book are treated is very uncomfy, and the rest of the show is depressingly monochromatic. come on let’s do better.

stop the weird confederacy hat tips

again others have pointed these out with much more thoroughness than I could, but the names of some characters and locations, as well as some of the language used to describe the browncoats, has uncomfortably confederate vibes. instead i propose we very Clearly tip our hats to the Alliance equaling space capitalism instead! you can’t go wrong with space capitalism as a villain.

don’t! make! the! psychotic! character! violent!

listen i love River Tam with my whole heart. but you should absolutely not portray your only character with psychosis as violent because of that psychosis!!!!!!! and yeah, a huge part of her character is that her brain got fucked up by the alliance and so she hallucinates and is also a super ninja. but like. she doesn’t need to be a super ninja for her character to work, okay? the crew does not need to be scared of her for her character to work, okay??? more on this later bc it would take a lot of care and nuance to make her character work but i really think it can be done

things we are absolutely keeping:

found family tropes my fucking beloved

this should be self evident. this is why the show is as appealing as it is despite its flaws, at least in my eyes.

malcolm reynolds, the knight in dusty armor

there’s something so appealing to me about what Mal stands for. because at his core is this ridiculous, silly, stubborn, doomed devotion to what he thinks is important and right, a romantic idealism thinly covered by cynical cowboy platitudes that he thinks make his bleeding heart totally invisible. and he is so obvious and entirely incorrect. bless. this is a man who will do anything for his family, who charges into swordfights to defend his friend from a man who wants to turn her into an object despite having no clue how to hold a sword. at his worst, he starts brawls in bars just for the martyr’s thrill of being persecuted for supporting the right; at his best, he inspires downright religious belief from his crew because he represents a romantic and chivalrous and doomed dedication to the right thing over any practical concerns. and then he throws a “selfish” quip over it with 100% confidence that everyone fell for his clever distraction and believes him to be a dirtbag. he’s oblivious and ridiculous and god he makes me want to be a better person because he’s just so goddamned sincere. stupid, but sincere. 10/10 himbo. <3

Mal and Inara ultraslowburn friends to enemies to friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers to friends to...

there’s nothing i love more than a ship that’s just two people who know each other way too well, and they’re each the only one who knows the other well enough to call them out on their bullshit. the way Mal and Inara interact in the show sometimes makes me uncomfy but like. the core of their relationship has to stay.

space western aesthetic

i need the cows on a spaceship scene to stay like i need air okay

that sweet sweet religious shit

mal, who lost his faith in gd and a whole lot else during the war. who lost his faith in himself, and now feels he has to hide the part of him that still wants to be good, because he knows he can’t be anymore, and he feels like it’s embarrassing for a guy like him to want something so unattainable. who takes a preacher on board, and the preacher has lost something, too. the preacher has his own past, and his own questions. but not questions like the observant neurodivergent girl, the one who wants to interact with and understand this thing that’s so important to him, but it just doesn’t click with how her brain works and she feels like something needs to be fixed, either the Bible or herself. and Mal takes care of them all, and slowly, he begins to find gd again, not in a prayer but in humanity. humanity doesn’t need to be fixed, like the alliance thinks. the shining imperfect strawberry sweetness of it in his family’s smiles is something to be worshiped and served and devoted to. and he finds he has something to believe in again. (and his crew find that he’s given them someone to believe in, too. and maybe suddenly he’s a saint.)

and finally, my brilliant ideas as to what i would like to add:

TRANS WOMAN KAYLEE RIGHTS

listen her femininity is so important to me okay? it’s so thrilled about everything that’s pretty, from dresses to the spaceship’s electric innards, and it’s so non-traditional and grease stained until it’s not and it’s pink and ruffly and twirly, and she never sees any of it as a contradiction, because none of it contradicts, it’s all just her! her gender is warmth and love and prettiness, feeling pretty and appreciating the pretty and making her friends’ days pretty too.

i want us to find out she’s trans in that episode with the ball, and i want us to find out alongside Mal who just never asked or never realized. Kaylee gasps and squeals at the dress in the shop window and Mal makes an off handed, ill considered comment, and then... someone yanks him aside and hisses a few very significant words in his ear. and suddenly he remembers what the blue white and pink she painted all over the engine room means, and he knows he has something to make right. so he buys her that dress himself and lets her know just how pretty she looks, and when he walks into that ball with her displayed on his arm like something precious, he looks the proudest out of any man there. and she notices. for a few seconds, of course, until there’s chocolate, and ‘nara, and a chandelier—and some horrible girls, but she’s used to that, until—suddenly, she finds her people. a group of old men who light up when she jokes about compression coils and whack presumptuous boys who ask her to dance. they adopt her as a treasured granddaughter, and Mal is beaming at her like a proud dad, and she finds that one of her new elderly friends gazes a little too long at her bracelet, and so she gives it to xem and teaches xem a few new words, and... it’s a good day, huh? it’s a really good day. (of course, then the captain has to go and punch somebody in the face, but it was a real nice party up until then.)

also she and Simon are both transhet t4t im correct and you know it

time for a better River Tam

the first thing we’ve established is that this version of her is not unpredictably violent and the crew is not scared of her!!!! it makes no sense to take a kid who’s primarily brilliant, experiment on her brain, give her telepathic powers....... and tack on the fact that she also has super strength and speed and dexterity and what not, AND say that they programmed her to be super violent. no! no. not only is that extremely harmful rep, that’s also just stupid.

instead!! my version of River is in fact not terrifying to the crew, but is actually the one they feel safest around. River has always been totally blunt, she was one of those kids you could tell realllllly early was autistic, and she doesn’t like being disengenous at all. so you can always trust her to tell the truth and not play weird passive aggressive games or have any hidden agenda, which makes her just a really chill person to be around. also, one of her longtime special interests is music and dance, so whether or not she’s nonverbal on a given day, there will always be some sort of beautiful sound when she’s around. she does have the singing voice of a dying crow unfortunately but that’s ok bc Simon’s is even worse and they’re both incredibly competitive so you’ll at least get free entertainment out of the affair.

my version of River does have psychosis and hallucinations because of the trauma of the experiments, and they are really troubling to her. she and Simon work together to find ways to cope and meds that help, and it’s a process, but there are some things that help.

the only thing she gained from the academy was the ability to hear people’s thoughts and sense the future a little bit. and yeah, that led to her picking up a few spooky secrets at the beginning, which, yikes. and for a while, it was hard to figure out which voices were real and which were hallucinations. but around her friends, she always feels safe to ask “did you just think about triple cheese burritos or was that just a me thing?”, and they’ll always tell her the truth no matter how embarrassing their thoughts are, bc it’s important to all of them to respect her and help her sort accurately through what’s reality and what’s not. and bit by bit, she gets better and better at figuring out what kinds of things tend to be telepathy and what kinds of things tend to be psychosis, and that each one feels a little different. and because of the trust and respect and support of her found family she’s able to do that in a safe environment!!!

trans man Simon rights

listen i wanted to keep him as just a side note on Kaylee’s list but he is my son and he’s important to my heart so here goes

out on the outer rim where Kaylee’s from, gender ain’t much of a big deal, there’s an individualistic quality to life out there, and so if the trail you blaze is the trail of a woman or a man or neither or both, that’s respected even in the rare cases where it’s not outright encouraged. but in the inner planets, where competition and connections and public faces and family names are everything, you have to be what’s expected of you to survive. you can’t change your brand, you can’t be anything other than what your family planned for you since before you were born, it’s incredibly hard to survive in such a hyper competitive environment, and so your very identity becomes just a tool in how to market yourself for better success.

needless to say Simon (just as autistic as his little sister and also very trans) fuckin hated it there. but he was very good at it. correction: he was very good at his very specific field of STEM, good enough to where people stopped talking about how cute he looked in bows and started talking about how impressive his work was from a very young age. and his work had no gender. he could be whatever he wanted to in equations. so that was where he could express himself, and gd, he got so much praise for it, he never wanted to stop.

not until he discovered that his sister needed him, and ran away, and needed a disguise, and realized... suddenly, every stifling rule and prying eye was a million miles away. he was freefloating, freefalling, with none of the charted paths he’d been following all his life... so you know what? fuck it. he’s always enjoyed the name Simon. and since it’s not on any legal records, it’ll make him just that much more untraceable.

and on Serenity, starting over with new people who never knew him before his transition feels like an unbelievable blessing that just dropped right into his lap. he has to keep up the secrecy, he has to make sure they never find out who he used to be, because gd, it’s so nice when they look at him and say his name right, and he doesn’t know if he can handle losing that, not when it’s so new and so important to the person he’s finally becoming. but then one day, the unthinkable happens, the wanted posters for his arrest have an old name on them, they’re looking for the Tam sisters, and... nothing changes. the crew of Serenity could not give even a tenth of a percent of a fuck, and it doesn’t seem like they even know they’re supposed to. huh. that’s new. Simon could get used to that, he thinks.

i’m sure there’s more i could add, but it’s 4:30 in the morning now, so if more occurs to me, ill simply add it in a reblog tomorrow. if you’ve read down this far, i am in love with you. please let me know your Better Firefly ideas, too, bc im always down to yell about this show!!!

#firefly #Serenity #in which i choke out joss whedon with my bare hands and rescue his characters and give them better homes #ollies fix it series #malcolm reynolds #ollies personal good firefly canon

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