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cherryflavoured7777 · 1 year ago

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Fevered Affection {h.c}

summary: Hazel takes care of a very sick you.

Pure fluff.

(This is entirely self-indulgent as I have been sick the past week and need a Hazel to come take care of me)

pairing: Hazel Callahan x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

You wake up in your bed, a tight ball of pressure constricting your chest, as if something has been lodged in your lungs for days. You try to slowly untangle yourself from Hazel's body beside you and move her arm off of you. As you sit up, you find yourself gasping for air, a fit of coughing wracking your body and intensifying the pounding in your head. Leaning over the edge of the bed, you reach for your water bottle, the cool liquid soothing your dry throat and sticky skin. It’s completely dark in the room except for the soft orange glow of your salt lamp plugged in, casting a warm ambiance on your bedside table.

You pick up your phone and the light from your screensaver adds to the throbbing in your poor head. Glancing at the clock, you groan, it's 3:38 a.m. Apparently, you had dozed off early only to be rudely awakened by your lingering illness. Every inch of your body aches, and your chills have now transformed into a too-warm heat.

Beside you, your girlfriend stirs, a soft sound escaping her lips. Hazel quickly becomes alert, her brows furrowing in concern. "Honey, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You convinced your mom to let Hazel come over and take care of you. After spending days miserably locked up in your room, missing school, and yearning to see her, you needed her presence. Hazel had arrived earlier that evening, well-prepared with all the essentials. As soon as she received the green light to come over, she stopped by a nearby grocery store to gather cough drops, medicine, tea, soup, a heating pad, and even a new stuffed animal, all to make you feel better.

"I'm fine, Haze," you manage to say before having another coughing fit.

"You don't sound fine. You sound like you're about to hack up a lung," Hazel says, concern etched on her face as she grabs your shoulder and pulls you in for a closer look. You attempt to squirm away from her touch.

"Don't look at me. I'm sick and disgusting," you protest weakly. Hazel chuckles softly. "Yeah, you look super gross right now. So gross that I just need to kiss you so bad," she teases sarcastically, planting a quick peck on your lips.

"Shut up," you reply, though you know there's no real heat behind your words. Hazel is just as lovesick as you are, if not more.

"I'm gonna get you sick," you warn halfheartedly.

"Babe, do you think if I was worried about that, I would have slept next to you for the past seven hours?" she replies, lightly tugging your bare arm back down and placing her lips on your shoulder.

"Seriously," she mumbles against your skin, her kisses tracing a line from your shoulder to your neck. Your head falls to your other shoulder, allowing her access, and you let out a soft sigh.

Her mouth reaches your ear, and she whispers, "Plus, if I get sick too, then we're both stuck in bed together. How terrible." You shove her off playfully, unable to suppress a laugh.

You watch as she gets up off the bed searching for one of the items she bought for you: Vicks Vaporub. She returns to the bed and settles in front of you. You shift closer until you're sitting face to face.

"My body hurts," you say, your frustration becoming more noticeable.

"Shh. I know, baby. I'm gonna try and make it better for you, okay?" she reassures, gently moving your hair out of the way to apply the cool gel on your chest. She carefully pulls down the straps of your tank top, creating a clear working space.

"I promise this will help a little bit, honey."

She opens the jar, dips her fingers in, and applies the rub to your chest with care. The sensation is cold, but oddly comforting. The intense minty smell instantly burns your nose. You watch as she runs her hand from the center of your chest up to your shoulder, squeezing gently when she reaches the top. Her touch is gentle yet firm, sending shivers down your spine.

"This okay? I know it's kind of cold, sorry," she says, dipping her fingers back into the jar for more gel. You can't help but admire the way her ringed fingers dip into the substance. She repeats the same process on the other side of your chest, her fingers gliding slowly across your chest. creating a tingling sensation that spreads warmth beneath your skin.

"Yeah, it's fine. Feels good, actually."

Despite your discomfort, a warm feeling spreads through your stomach as you watch Hazel take care of you so tenderly. As she wipes the small excess of the substance off on her hoodie sleeve, her eyes meet yours, filled with compassion and affection, conveying a silent promise to take care of you.

"I think I'm just really good with my hands," she remarks playfully. You shove her in a half-hearted attempt at retaliation, then surrender and collapse into her, your head buried into her neck with your hands in her lap. Her cold hands grip your waist and start to move up, drawing gentle lines up and down your back with her fingers.

"Thank you for taking care of me," your voice croaks. You sniffle, feeling overwhelmed by gratitude and annoyance at your lingering sickness. Hazel, sensing your frustration, instinctively reaches up to gently wipe away the tears that escape your eyes. Her touch is tender, her eyes filled with love and concern as she softly brushes her thumb against your cheek.

"You don't have to thank me, my love," she whispers, her voice soothing. She wraps you in her arms again, holding you tightly as she maneuvers you both back to lying down. Face to face, you stare into her big blue eyes.

"I hate feeling this way," you admit, your voice laced with frustration. "I just want to get better and go back to normal." Hazel's eyes soften with understanding, and her fingers begin gently caressing through your hair.

"I know, honey.” She says. "I hate seeing you like this too. I promise, first thing tomorrow, I'll take you to the doctor if you want. We'll figure out what's going on, and you'll get the proper help you need."

You find solace in her words, a glimmer of hope in the midst of your frustration. "Thank you," you whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. Hazel smiles, her eyes reflecting unwavering determination.

"Of course," she replies, her fingers tenderly tracing circles on your back. "I'll be with you every step of the way, holding your hand.” In the quiet intimacy of the moment, you look into Hazel's eyes, your gaze filled with deep affection and sincerity.

"I love you," you say, your voice barely a whisper.

Hazel smiles, her eyes softening with the same depth of love mirrored in your own.

"I love you too, more than words can express," she replies, her hand moving down your body to rest on your hip, squeezing it gently.

"You mean the world to me, I literally only ever care about what you are doing or how you are feeling.” She adds.

You both laugh quietly, feeling thankful to have found someone who cares for you so deeply.

"I'm so lucky to have you," you confess, your heart swelling with gratitude. I don't know what I'd do without you." Hazel leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"And I'm lucky to have you too," she murmurs, her voice filled with unwavering devotion. "We're a team, you and I. I mean it.” You share a smile, your gazes locked.

“God we can be so cheesy sometimes,” you remark, letting out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, you love it." She shifts onto her back, pulling you closer and wrapping her arm around you, inviting you to rest your head on her chest.

"Do you feel comfy?" She asks softly.

"Mhm,” you murmur in contentment.

“I’m right here babe, I’m not leaving. I’ll stay with you as long as it takes for you to get better okay? I just want you to sleep well and get some rest now"

You let sleep begin to tug at you, completely content, wrapped in each other's arms, listening to the soft rhythm of Hazel's breathing slowing down.

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

a/n: Okay this was literally the first fic i have ever written so please forgive me if its god-awful. Also if you enjoyed this wanna send me a request I would seriously be so happy <3

also sorry the formatting on this is kinda weird

#hazel callahan #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fanfic #hazel callahan x you #bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #sapphic #wlw #ruby cruz #hazel callahan fic #hazel callahan imagine

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97keanu · 1 year ago

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"ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐʸ ᵃⁿᵍᵉˡ

ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷᵃʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵛᵉ

ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ"

Neo x goth! hacker!Reader

***read the revised edition here!

Premise: In our second chapter, reader finally meets who's been stealing all her clients, and to her dismay, he's actually really cute. That's going to make disliking him and working with him harder if she can't get her thoughts out of the gutter. Neo, on the other hand is battling his fetishes, playing peeping tom and having a little me time in the shower. Will you two be able to meet each other successfully and start an alliance, or was it doomed from the start?

Tags/CW: loser!neo, perv!neo, don't get me wrong he can still be suave, its just that his thoughts are utterly filthy for what he wants to do to you, obsessive!neo, prematrix/no matrix, y2k mall goth!reader, themes of loneliness, starts to get spicy, masturbation (neo), masturbating where you shouldn't(neo), looking into unknowing girls windows (also neo), age difference(23/35), mutual pining and hiding of said pining, mentions of aggressive oral, hair pulling, somewhat darkfic, dark topics and love likely to be discussed, dom!neo, switch!reader, brat!reader, and any other tags in the first chapter.

A/N: Neo is going to seem so much more confident and scary to reader upon first meeting, but I promise you underneath all that he's a total nerd who still hasn't had a girlfriend, though that does fuel his more aggressive and kinky nature, so still expect him to dom! In the bedroom.

First chapter here. Read part three here. AO3 link here

Words: 5.6k

Neo hates to admit it, but he left your picture up on his computer for the rest of the night. At first, your ghostly pixelated image made him feel strange, to say the least. Accompanying the fact that you were essentially proposing to watch over him, to make sure he didn't leave any back doors open when hacking, Neo began to sleep, images of you as his guardian Angel finding their way into his fleeting thoughts of restless sleep. When he awoke late the next day, he was sweating once again. The hot Chicago summer was droning on, the early season when it's just deciding to heat up was long gone and replaced with humid, sweltering days. Neo could hardly stand it, and opted for a shower, his body sticking to his clothes as he took them off and tossed them on the bathroom floor. As the cool water hit his body, he began to think of you again. He imaged your pretty little face, you had to be younger than him, that much was obvious. Your dark hair, pitch black as your clothes and makeup. Under the stream of the shower head, Neo found himself imagining you in ways he would feel guilty about afterwards.

He imagines you, in the shower with him, your hands gently cascading down his body, coming to rest right before his hard cock. You look up at him, your makeup starting to fall from the water, and your lipstick leaving rings on his cock when you start sucking him off. Neo practically groans out from the thought, his hand keeping pace on his own cock while he imagines that it's your mouth inside, soft, wet, and warm. He can only imagine what it would be like for you to encompass his cock with your perfect, cute mouth. Fuck. He can barely keep himself from cumming right now, the idea is so sexy.

What really gets him over the edge is imagining taking your hair in his hands and gripping it enough that you cry out, and when you do he's pumping his cock into your mouth harder than before. His muscles tense in the shower, even just the thought of being so aggressive with you igniting every muscle in his body. He continues to think of you choking in his cock, maybe even pulling you off for air, and you begging for more while your goth makeup is dripping down your cheeks. Oh God…He's going to cum.

Neo finishes in his shower, his husky groans escaping finally, and his back finding the cool tile of the shower wall for support.

"Fuck…" He whispers out to the lonely shower, a bit of clarity coming to him as he realizes with embarrassment just how lonely he has been. That along with this trance you've put him in leave him feeling totally guilty. He's just some 30 year old loser who has a kink of chicks in black makeup, he really should be able to control himself. Meeting you shouldn't have any ulterior motives of lust, but he can't hardly stop himself.

He gets out of the shower and tries to wipe off shame with a fluffy white towel, frustrated that his body doesn't feel any less hot than before but it's not the summer heat that's getting to him anymore. No, it's you. And he has to be able to contain himself tonight when he meets you at the…what was it again? Some goth club from what he researched last night, no surprise there.

God, Neo's afraid he won't be able to help himself from popping a boner when he finally sees you in person. If your profile picture has this much of a hold on him, then he's worried what will happen when he really gets to meet you. Maybe he'll get lucky, and it'll turn out you're actually a total catfish, and some other lonely loser like him. At least then he can laugh in your face and leave. Go back to his typical solitary existence.

A part of him aches at the thought all the while. If it's not what you actually look like, the fact that he just jerked off to you is all the more shameful. And, as much as he doesn't wish to admit, he would be highly disappointed.

Neo finishes up redressing, opening the window to his apartment to let some air in. He looks back out and sees the same little apartment he saw the last intriguing girl in. She's in there now, and from the looks of it, he thinks she's…trying on different clothes? He can barely see what she's wearing from here, but he can definitely tell when her body is bare of anything, becoming all one color besides a splash of dark hair. Just the idea of making out this unknowing neighbor's curves and ass has Neo hard again. He really is a pervert, huh?

He can hardly tear his eyes away, and the only reason he isn't throwing his left hand into his pants again is he knows that he likely won't be able to finish after doing it again so soon. He's almost jealous that he didn't get to sit here, staring out his window at the unsuspecting woman, freely looking at her in such a vulnerable state, pleasuring himself. He has a secret hope that maybe some other time, he'll be able to.

For now, he turns from the window and begins to psyche himself up for meeting you tonight.

✧✧✧

It's late, but it's the time you asked to see Neo. Everything works better under nights mask. You can imagine more. A fairytale can become real under the night sky if told to the right person. You hope you can actually get to work with this Neo guy. You know that your work has been so little lately. so this would really help you out. But you also know that you've dreamed of Neo all this morning, the image of his striking brown eyes drifting through your mind. The worst part was that some of those dreams were less than innocent in nature. The most vivid is seeing his eyes look up at you from between your thighs…

No, you don't need to think of that right now. He's late and could be escorted to your booth any minute. You currently sit in the red velvet lined booth, large dark curtains enclosing it, making it a safe zone for a meeting. You spent a chunk of the afternoon, worrying about what you would wear, dressing and undressing for well over an hour. You finally decided on a sleeveless dress, its top corseted, embellished with fancy black and purple lace. You chose a short black mini skirt to go along with it, and of course one of your favorite pairs of platform chunky heels. You fit in well with the rest of the club goers of Club Hel. You wonder how Neo will feel, seeing you are so much like his dirty little hidden porn folder. That shouldn't matter, this should be a business deal, but it does matter. Somehow, you know in your heart, and your occasionally aching pussy, that you want Neo to want you. It would be so satisfying to know that this nerdy hacker is thirsting after you. Plus it would be less embarrassing that you want him…

Just as you think he's not coming, black manicured nails playing with some drink named after 'bloody' this or that, the heavy curtain is pulled back. The familiar face of one of the usual workers dips in, nodding in another party member.

It's him.

You're breath catches, and you're surprised. He has on a long, black trench coat. Black clothes underneath that you can't see very well. His hair looks darker, actually, it's gelled back you notice. He isn't someone who looks as goth as the rest of the patrons here, but he doesn't stand out either. You're really taken back by how sexy he is, not like the computer dork you thought he would turn out to be.

From the look on his face, he's surprised to see you too. You can see his dark eyes looking over your body, he even pauses on your breasts, which are accentuated by the low cut and tight corset. You can feel heat rising to you cheeks even though you curse yourself internally for it. You open your glossy. black lipsticked mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.

"NightShade, I presume?" His voice is more masculine than you thought it would be. You're stunned for a second by him, , and realize how childish it makes you seem that you're just staring at him. You also realize you never told him your real name, so you begin to blabber it out, before he stops you.

"We better stick to our code names. As you know, I go by Neo." He says and sits across from you at the booth. You feel stupid for blurting half of your real name out like that, and know he's right. It's dangerous to even be meeting in person like this. A tiny voice in your head is disappointed you couldn't be known by him as your true self. Not just an alter ego…

"You're right, I'm sorry. NightShade it is." You say with a nervous nod. Neo is so hard to read. Besides the initial surprise when he first walked in, he now seems as expressionless as a statue. Adding all the more allure to your already dirty mind about him.

"Well, it's good to finally meet you." Neo responds, and for some reason, you get the oddest feeling from the way his eyes look at you. It's as if he's trying to communicate something wordlessly straight to your soul. You can't tell if it's want that fuels it, or something else, but from the way he looked over your body earlier, you wonder if he liked what he saw. "You as well. Have you thought any more about what I had proposed?" You gently lift your cocktail to your lips, and softly sip the blood red liquid, your lipstick leaving an imprint of your lips. You wonder what your kisses would look like trailing up Neo's pale neck… "Yes, I have. And as much as it pains me to say it," Neo says with a chuckle, the way he talks and his age advantage over you seems like he's in much more control here than you are. Somehow the idea of him dominating this conversation turns you on, you glance at his large hands on the table, and wonder what those hands would look like on your body, especially around your pretty little throat. You're distracted from what he's saying, he says something stronger in tone and you snap back to those endless seas of black that are his eyes right now. "I think it would be advantageous for us to work together. It's clearly not safe for me to continue to work alone if I can't keep my own ass covered. I'd like it if you could help with that." Despite Neo's words clearly asking for your help, you didn't feel as if you were the one with any power here. Somehow, you feel like the fly who's wandered into the spider's web. The question now is how far will you dip your little legs into it, dear fly? "I…would very much like that." You say, your voice feeling small, hoping you're heard over the loud club music downstairs. "I would like to split the profits however…" You add the last part, taking some great confidence that you only seem to find when you're talking online. Neo laughs a little and you worry he is unimpressed by you worrying about money. "That will be no issue, I don't mind paying you for your…services…" When he says that last word, those dark eyes trail over your body once more, and you can't help but wonder the implications of what he's saying. "I think we could really start to corner this part of town for black market information…" Something about Neo's attitude puts a chill up your spine, and a heat between your thighs. You can't help yourself, the thought of going back to your apartment after this, alone once more, is too much for you to bear. You want to be acquainted with Neo, the little voice in your head knows you've tossed the thought of something more around a few times in just this conversation. There's something dangerous about Neo, you can't tell what it is about him, but it makes you want to uncover it, find out what his code is hiding, so to say. "I have to agree. How do you want to go about this? We can work mainly from our own stations, or…?" You begin, trying to drive your thoughts to stay on topic, work out the kinks of this budding relationship between you two. "I think that will happen for some of the time, but I'm still going to need to give you physical copies of some of the files, and I don't trust much besides meeting up to exchange those hand to hand." Neo seems to have thought over this enough, he's also very cautious. His reserved, quiet, and dark demeanor is so hard for you to understand. If he was as cool as he seems right now, shouldn't he be able to handle himself? It's interesting to you that he needs help from someone ten years younger like you.

"That…makes sense." You nod along. "Maybe a weekly coffee date is in store…?" You say nonchalantly, not realizing you've used the word 'date'. Neo's eyes light up with something, was that a hint of desperation? It's as if you've looked past this cool exterior of a mask he has on and glimpsed into the want that he's hiding. So it's not just you who feels this pull? "A date…?" Neo's voice has lost the suaveness from before, now husky with need. You wonder briefly when the last time he has a date was based on this. Is he really, secretly the computer nerd you envisioned him to be? His cold and calculated behavior is slipping. "Why…?" Your voice comes out slyly, you can't help yourself. "Would you like that?" You tease him, your brattiness coming out, your dark makeup giving you a more sinister glance his way. "N-No…" He starts, clearing his throat and glancing away. There's the dork inside of him. "I mean, we should definitely have meetings, yes. I just don't want the wrong idea…" He says the last sentence softly, almost as if he doesn't want you to hear, or perhaps mention it. But you're suddenly in a mood, the little fly who likes to fight back. "The wrong idea about what?" You lean over the table with a grin, your breasts pressing out of your top as you do so. Of course, Neo's eyes flash there and he is obviously kicking himself for it. "Has something transpired within you that I don't know about, Neo?"

You can't believe how bold you're being, but the way he's now clearly squirming from your questions makes you feel more in control at the moment. "Nothing, but an interest in…" Neo drags his eyes away from your chest and continues. "In working together." You laugh a little, but back off. "Alright, well. Why don't you inform me on what you're working on now?" You smile, eager to begin working with this fascinating man. You feel more alive than you have in a long time, your suffocating bedroom being much of your world lately. This is exciting, and the pull you feel for Neo is undeniable. You wonder if he feels the same. Maybe you could come up with something mutually beneficial, besides working together. "Well, currently I have some local gang members who want info from rivals who have been using an online chatroom to communicate." Neo seems relieved to get back to work talk, the stoic, quiet side of him settling back in. "That's not very smart of the rival gang…" You mention, but nod for him to continue. "It's not, no. But I think they have a resident coder because the chatrooms are locked up pretty tight. I wonder if any of them are secretly government…but who knows." Neo is being very kind to share this information, he must trust you enough right now to let you in, as well as coming to a commitment to your partnership. You almost bite your lip with glee over that revelation, but stop yourself. "Interesting, I should probably work alongside you to keep you covered then. If any of them are undercovers, we don't want them noticing us in the process." Neo seems impressed by your words. "Exactly. You're uh, pretty good at this for your age." He comments, acknowledging your age differences with caution. "Yeah, I've been doing this for a while, and was taught by some pretty good hackers…" You shrug, as if it's no big deal. You want to be mature for him, even though 23 is plenty old, you feel quite immature half the time, hence your bratty behavior. Neo seems a bit skeptical. "Sure…well. I hope you can do a good job of watching over me while I do the rest of the hacking. I've never had a…I don't know what to call it, an assistant?" He says trying to find the right word for you. "Hey! I am not going to be your assistant!" You reject the notion, a bit childish of you despite your previous worry of maturity. "Alright, alright…" Neo chuckles, raising those big hands in defeat. "What should I say instead? Colleague? Partner? Guardian Angel who looks after me?" He jokes about the last one, but something inside you kind of likes the ring of that. You laugh along with him, you two are getting comfortable, and you notice he's leaned over the table towards you as well. "We'll work on that one…" You say, looking into his eyes, his eyes searching yours just the same. The flash of the idea of closing the foot of space between you two and trying those soft looking lips floats by in your mind. You can just imagine what he would look like when you're done, his lips smudged with your lipstick. You can't help but want to mark your territory. The two of you continue to discuss the details, both of you surprising the other with how much tech knowledge you both possess. Somehow, you feel as if he just gets you, it's so strange. You have felt so lonely this summer, it feels as if a fire has been ignited in you, bringing you back to life, your body buzzing. You don't know if it's the liquor you've had, which hasn't been that much really, but you feel like you could get addicted to Neo's energy. He's just so interesting. When he asks to walk you home, you don't even think twice. ✧✧✧

The night has brought rain while the two of you were in Club Hel, and Neo's mind is racing. He's absolutely obsessed with you. He couldn't take his eyes off you all night, even though he tried to act aloof and maybe even use his maturity to seem as if he has control over the situation. But the truth is, you could have him wrapped around your finger in no time. Neo's aware of this, but the lonely loser inside him is so desperate for this connection. He feels as if he needs you. If he loses you, scares you off, that would crush him at this point. If he thought he was in trouble just from seeing your picture, coming in and seeing your real life form has absolutely blown his mind. He has no idea how he scored talking to someone as sexy as you, but knows he can't screw up and show you how much of a nerdy perv he actually is. He's so glad the table hid how hard he was for you, and when you two stand up so he can show you home when you're all done, he keeps his trench coat closed tight. He quickly helps you into a cab, the rain just beginning, but by the time you're both inside the hot backseat of the cab, you're drenched. God, he can't believe how gorgeous you look with your black hair soaking wet, he watches the city lights glint off your now slippery breasts. He really can't believe you wore something so promiscuous to your first meeting with him. He wonders if you want him as much as he wants you, but he almost can't let himself believe it. He wouldn't be able to live from another let down like that. He is pretty old to still be a virgin, one of his biggest secrets, and the fact that he's barely talked to girls, let alone never really had a girlfriend doesn't help. He's always felt like such a freak, and the stuff he's into, hobbies like hacking, kinks, or otherwise, have never been something women have been interested in. But you? Here you are, this gothic beauty who has the same passion as him. It's too good to be true. He can barely speak to you. He's so wrapped up in his own thoughts and nervous in the cab. He wishes this were a real date, that taking you home meant he got to follow behind you. His thoughts tumble into going into your bedroom with you, pinning you to the bed, and him finally having his way with you. He's been picturing it all night. He wants you to moan out his name, tell him how much you want him, and take as much of his cock as physically possible. God, he can't even hardly look at you right now his thoughts are so dirty. "She probably thinks I'm such a huge freak I can't believe I haven't run her off yet." He finds himself thinking. Neo wishes he could find a balance between this desperate horniess he feels for you, and being a normal man who has very good intentions with you. He can't help it, he's already lost to the thought of you tied up and willing. He can just picture his hands moving all over your body, tightening the rope where need be. He bets you even want the rope to be black. "We're almost here…" Your angelic voice whispers to him. He's snapped out of his daydream, and he realizes the two of you are super close to his apartment. For a moment he worries he gave the driver the wrong address, but no, there you are, stepping out and leading him to your apartment. Neo lets you take his hand, and run through the rain towards your apartment building. It's as if an electrical current is running between where you two meet, hands touching skin to skin, a need so bad that Neo wonders if he can control himself. The urge to pull you to him and smash his lips against yours, uncaring from the rain, is strong enough he has to stop himself. When you two finally get inside the building, you're shivering, your little bit of clothing soaked and not offering much heat. "Here…" Neo says, taking his trench coat off, the leather allowing most of the water to glide off, the inside dry and warm.

"Oh! Thank you…" Your soft voice says, and Neo feels so good to be able to help you like this. When you turn to go up the stairs, Neo adjusts hIs cock in his pants, now that the trench coats gone, he doesn't want you to see his hardness. He hopes you don't notice. The two of you walk up the stairs to your apartment, and Neo is almost angry with you that he can see up your skirt, spotting red lacy panties on your ample ass. Fuck. He has to keep it together, but it's so hard to keep his brain from fogging over with lustful thoughts of you. You two haven't even discussed anything romantic, he can't be acting like this, besides how much younger you are, you probably aren't interested, and, and…

Neo doesn't even notice you two are at your apartment before you're opening the door and turning to him. He feels entirely caught off guard by your big, innocent eyes looking up at him.

"Well, would you like to come in and dry off? I have a spare umbrella you can use when you go…?" The way you're speaking and looking at him right now, he could just grab you and push you inside, taking as much of your flesh in his mouth as possible. Besides the fact, that there's no fucking way you really invited him in.

"I-Yeah…I would like that." Neo finds his voice. It would be nice, his hair is soaking wet, now dark and in his face, the gel no longer keeping it as slicked back as he would like. He doesn't like feeling so disheveled, so out of control. "Good, come in. You can sit on the couch…" You say to him, pointing out the couch and bouncing off the the bathroom to get a towel.

Neo sits as told, and takes in your apartment. It's small, has more rooms than his however, and the decor matches your style, a bit toned down in the living room and kitchen, but has he leans he can see into your bedroom from the couch. He leans a bit more, and realizes he can see something else too. His cock aches when he notices that he's looking into the bathroom, the door isn't shut fully and he can see your form moving about in there. It looks like you are taking care of yourself first, stripping down from the skimpy goth outfit you had on. Neo clutches the side of the couch, his breath stuck in his chest as he sees those lacey red panties, and now gets a glimpse of the matching bra as well. He wonders if you put those on on purpose tonight, or if that's how you always dress.

Soon, he knows he absolutely should look away as your back is now bare, your bra slipping down your shoulders, from this angle not revealing anything quite yet. Neo can't help himself, his hand is pressed to his cock over his pants, just tiny bits of well placed pressure exciting him even more. He knows he can't look, this isn't right, he isn't supposed to see this, but god, he could cum in his pants right now if he keeps staring. You continue to undress, your bare ass now facing Neo, your panties on the floor of the bathroom, you seem to semi kick them towards a pile of clothes. Neo is totally entranced by you, rubbing on himself more and more, getting off on the fact that he shouldn't be looking, the forbidden intrigue becoming an obsession for him. He's so fucked. He jumps when you begin to turn, and scrambles when you come out of the bathroom and into your bedroom naked. He moves back to his original position on the couch like his life depends on it, his heart beating hard. He tries to adjust to seem nonchalant when you come out, this time sporting a Bauhaus band T-shirt that's way too big for you, along with a pair of black sporty shorts. He isn't sure if this is hotter than seeing you naked to be honest, your hair is still wet, and your make up has been washed off. He feels as if he should only see this version of you if you only allowed him to be that intimate with you. You toss him a towel and point into the bedroom. "The bathrooms in there if you need to use it." You say with a smile, coming to sit on the couch yourself now. Neo nods and quickly stands, trying to hide his hot and hard cock. This might be his chance to help himself out, though the guilt of that is already starting as he thinks it. He goes to the bathroom, and makes sure the door is shut. He can't let you see this. His pants are down before he do anything else. His cock is freed, and the night air sticks to it. Fuck, he's so hard for you. Neo is stroking himself off in your tiny little bathroom, trying to cover his mouth from heavy breathing. He's so scared you'll hear him or he'll take too much time and be suspicious. Honestly the nerves are making it hard to get off, then he sees something laying on the floor and groans. He snatches your discarded red panties, not even questioning the morals of pressing them against his face and getting a smell of you. God, you smell so fucking sweet and musky, Neo could scream. He imagines fucking you like no other right now. He wants you against this bathroom counter, looking at your own reflection, watching yourself desperately need his cock.

He thinks about tying your hands behind your back, and pressing your face into the counter as he gets forceful with your tiny body. He's so much bigger than you by comparison, height alone gives him all the advantage he needs over keeping you in place and fuckable. He would easily be able to get what he wants from you. The smell of your pussy on these panties Is making his head spin, he keeps using his hand, harder and harder, getting to climax thinking about shooting off a load inside of you. He aims for your sink as he finishes, his disgusting actions leaving a mess there. Once again, fuck… Neo has to just lean against the wall for a moment can catch his breath. This is the second time he's jerked off to thinking of you, he's such a loser. He briefly wonders if he made a mistake, if he goes back out there and by some miracle you actually brought him up here to fuck him, did he just both metaphorically and physically blow it? No, there's no way. Neo shamefully cleans up after himself. He even makes sure to rinse his hands and the sink with soap, it wouldn't be fair to leave any evidence. As he finishes up, and actually starts to dry himself off like he was supposed to, he sees the panties where he had set them next to the sink. He doesn't have time to think twice, he has been in here too long, so he swipes them and puts them into his pants pocket as deep as they can go. He hopes you don't notice, my god, does he hope. He composes himself, then finds the confidence to stride back out there and look at you after what he's done. You're lounging on the couch, flipping through channels on a tiny CRTV. You stop on a late night black and white horror movie. As Neo comes back out, he thinks he sees Bella Lugosi coming for his female victim, and he can't help but chuckle.

"I didn't know you liked the classics." Neo says, your attention turning to him. If he just focuses on teasing you, then maybe he won't have to think about what he just did. "Of course, Dracula is the best." You say with a smirk, as if he's the dumb one for suggesting anything else. "He's just so powerful and mysterious…" "Powerful and mysterious, huh?" Neo responds, still standing by the couch, unsure if he's invited to join you. "Why don't you come sit and see? It's still raining down pretty hard, maybe you should stay until it lets up…?" Neo can't believe his luck, but now he is really worried he came too soon in the bathroom. He slowly sits down next to you. "Alright, I'll stay for a bit," Neo tries to sound like this isn't his wildest dream right now. The two of you continue to watch the movie as the rain gets worse outside. And somewhere between that and now, Neo realizes he may have just had that date with you anyways. His typically heavy heart feels like skyrocketing when at some point you move and lay your head into his shoulder. The small movement shouldn't have him this flustered, but it does. The rain makes whatever perfume you're wearing smell so much better, it smells like vanilla, musk, and fresh cotton mixed with the earthy scent of rain. Neo takes a deep inhale and hopes you don't notice.

There's something about how good your body heat feels that makes Neo's heart swell. The connection you two have is just so strong for him. He feels as if he's been so alone for so long that something as simple as you putting your head on his shoulder is almost too much. He wants this so bad, he can't believe how far he's gotten into his own isolation that he feels this way from something so simple.

He almost wishes he could be at home, with his computers. Not in anyways that takes you for granted, no, of course not that. Just in the sense that computers aren't warm like you, they listen to him, he builds the code and they do what he says. With you, he has no idea what you're thinking right now. In fact, he has no clue as to why you're allowing any of this. It makes him so nervous just to think about what might be going on in your head right now.

Neo will take what you give him in any capacity however, even if it drives him nuts that your into him. Eventually, the night wanes on, the storm still gently raging and the movie playing out. Somewhere amongst all of that, Neo finds his eyelids getting heavier. His body relaxes as you snuggle closer, and he can tell you are close to sleeping too. He feels like he absolutely should not fall asleep, this is so strange to him, he has never felt this sort of intimacy before. But he somehow feels so safe right now to do so, and it's not like he really has the willpower to deny you. He lets you snuggle half into his lap, and finds himself falling into a peaceful, dreamless sleep… ✧✧✧

#neo x hacker!reader #neo x reader #neo x goth!reader #the matrix #the matrix fanfic #neo fanfix #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #my writing #Spotify

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danosrosegarden · 1 year ago

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request: drabble, reaction of eddie getting a big kiss on the cheek by enby reader while he sits in their lap and they stroke his hair kindly/relaxingly? :'3 he's just so..... also, thank you! - erwynne

At Least - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader Headcannons

Contains: nothing but fluff! (It has been a long time since I've been able to write that!)

Note: *hi Kevin voice* HIII ERWYNNE! I hope you enjoy, thank you for being my first new request!

♡ You can feel the air in the room sink and sigh drowsily as soon as Edward shuts the door behind him. He's been complaining about work each day after getting home, but today felt...different. Bags tugged hard at the flesh underneath his eyes, dusting an even deeper shade of exhausted violet onto the skin than usual. He's slumped even further down, and his tired sigh is even deeper, wearier.

♡ I can imagine him lumbering over to where you are on the couch, not wasting any time worming himself into your arms. He's had a bad day, but at least you're still here.

♡ "Something the matter, Eddie?" His response is raspy and muffled: "Just wanna lay with you."

♡ Your fingers lace themselves in his ruffled hair as you hum softly and he closes his eyes. Edward was a quiet man, but you knew there was so much racing through his mind. If only you could pick apart those pieces, hack off a couple chunks. If only you could dissect and place those wrinkles of his brain under a microscope. You wanted to know what was flowing through his blood. What was buzzing through that brain.

♡ Before him, you just supposed that love wasn't meant for you. You'd had "things" with people, but never anything real. But you'd found something with him you'd never thought you would find. Something that heated your cheeks with bubbling warmth each time you laid eyes on him. Something that released buzzing butterflies into your stomach when you peered into his eyes. Something that kickstarted your heart into slamming gear every time you held his hand or felt the warmth of his skin.

♡ It was intense, this feeling of love. That's what it was; you realized it as you continued to run your fingers through his hair. Love.

♡ Eddie looked up into your eyes as you planted a quick kiss on his forehead. You smiled at him, studying the different shades of green flakes scattered around his irises.

♡ "What's on your mind?" His eyes flitted away, and a cool pink sizzled on his cheeks. "Have I ever told you I love you?" You thought for a moment, shaking your head. "No, I don't think so."

♡ You couldn't quite describe the look that washed over his face. It was a warm smile of passion, it was solemn understanding, it was frosty regret for taking so long to admit it...it was a faithful promise to never let another day pass without declaring it.

♡ "I'm sorry, then. You know how much I love you."

♡ And you did. You felt in each squeeze he gave your hand while holding it, each time he accidentally stepped on your toes while dancing with you in the kitchen, each somber morning where he'd kiss you gently in bed before heading out for work.

♡ "I know you love me. I know you do. I love you, you know that?"

♡ You felt him nod into your chest. And that was all you needed. You sealed another kiss on his forehead. You dragged your thumbs along the soft skin of his cheeks, feeling the red bloom of heat on the pads of them.

♡ You were always going to be there. You'd be there whether he was broken and bleeding or dripping with joy. He was your Eddie. That's what mattered. Come as he is. Yes, he may have had a bad day, but at least you were there. That's what mattered. <3

#Eli's writing #Danonation #Paul Dano #Edward Nashton #The Riddler #The Batman #Edward Nashton x reader #The Riddler x reader #Edward Nashton x you #The Riddler x you #Edward Nashton x Y/N #The Riddler x Y/N

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dracoqueen22 · 27 days ago

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BlorboWriMo - Day One

Dart can’t sleep.

His bedroll is solid, unmoving, soft. The blankets twist around his legs no matter if he sleeps in pajamas or nude. It’s too quiet, despite Weaver’s snoring and Clare’s nose-whistling and Lucas farting because they ate beans for supper, and Lucas ate too much. He always eats too much.

There’s no window, by design, and though the room is dark and small and cramped, it’s not the right kind of darkness. It’s not the right kind of pressure.

Dart’s been sleeping on Dryland for the better part of a year now, but he still hasn’t gotten used to it. Is that his problem tonight?

He frowns and flops over onto his front, burying his face in a pillow that smells of earth and stone. Goatmilk and lye – recently scrubbed. Pungent. Dart’s still not used to the way things smell on Dryland. So dry and burning in his nostrils.

Bleh.

Dart tosses the blanket back and heaves himself out of bed, feet bare on the cold stone floor. He wriggles his webbed toes, appreciating the chill. He slings Sirene and her sheath over his shoulder, tucking her in place. She’d fuss if he left him behind, even if only for a walk.

“I can’t take myself, I don’t have legs!” she chimes in, but Dart does not dignify that with a remark. Not where conversation could wake someone else at any rate.

Clare snorts and flops on her belly, tail whipping into the air once before it settles back over her rump. With her face buried in her belly, the nose-whistling is muffled. Now it’s even quieter.

Nope. Not sleeping now.

Dart picks his way across the floor, careful to avoid Lucas and Lysia tangled together in their bedroll, as if they’d fallen asleep mid-wrestle. Telemus is curled into a tiny ball in the corner, barely visible in his mound of blankets. Weaver sprawls across the bed, the only one given the honor of four posts and a mattress.

“Age before beauty,” she’d cackled, and no one dared argue against a woman likely to knife you in your sleep. Or hack off your limbs with her favorite double-headed axe.

No one stirs before Dart gets to the door. At the last minute, he grabs Lysia’s dayrobe and shrugs it over his shoulders. Drylanders get squirmy if you wander around naked. Dart eventually got used to wearing clothes, but every now and again, the cotton and leather chafe. He misses the cool glide of water against his skin, the teasing brush of the kelp forest, the flittering sideswipe of a darting fish.

The narrow corridor outside their sleeping room is quiet, lit only in bare intervals by bioluminescent moss. Nothing that might look out of place if someone were to be sailing along the shore, and happened to glance up at the rocky face, where pits and caverns hint at a twisting tangle of karst channels.

The Templar have no idea the Ori use these caves as a secure base. The longer they can keep it a secret, the better.

Dart fights off a yawn and shuffles down a hallway, into the inner loop, hopefully toward the kitchen if he remembers correctly. Maybe a snack or some tea will calm his nerves enough to sleep. Does it count as anxiety if he’s excited? He doesn’t know.

Tomorrow’s his first mission where he’s lead. Dart’s been on Dryland for a year, and a member of the Ori for just as long, but always as support. He does recon through the water, or helps take down search parties, but he’s never in the thick of it. Never doing anything important.

This is his chance to prove himself!

“You just want to impress Valon,” Sirene says. She coils restlessly at the back of his mind, her blade rattling in her sheath. “He didn’t even know you existed until six months ago.”

Dart folds his arms into his voluminous sleeves. “So? Is there something wrong with wanting to make my father proud?” He still stumbles over the word now and again. Dart hadn’t come to Dryland with the intention of finding his father. It had been a happy accident.

“It is a predictably mortal desire,” Sirene says, her voice taking on that cadence of instruction she adapts every now and again, like she feels it’s her duty to educate Dart on any topic where she believes he’s lacking.

Dart sighs. He pads into the kitchen, relieved to find it empty, though kitchen is a strong word. Crates of food supplies line the walls, and there’s a small cookpot and cookplate in the center, both powered by magical glyphs. The Ori have to be ready to abandon their hideout and flee at any moment, so they never install anything permanent.

Dart is not interested in cooking. He’s still not sure he likes Dryland cuisine. They cook their fish too thoroughly, they season their produce too much, and everything carries the faint taste of char. Gross.

He rummages in the nearest produce crate and produces a handful of berries, an apple, and a few carrots. He doesn’t know what it is he likes about carrots so much. Maybe because they’re orange? He’s always been fond of orange.

“It’s the crunch,” Sirene says. “Vesper likes food that makes noise, too. She says it feels like eating by proxy.”

Dart shoves the handful of berries into his mouth and pushes the lid back into place with his hip. Mmm. Boysenberry. Very sour and tangy. “You don’t eat?”

“Not in the way mortals do, no.”

“Sucks.”

Sirene says, her voice like a light wind across the waves. “Not as much as missing Vesper does. There are many things we cannot do on the physical plane, but at least we can twine our energies when we are close.”

Dart turns for the other door, intending to walk a loop around the interior, and hope that’s enough to tire him out for sleep. “Can you ever touch each other?”

“Yes. If our wielders are willing.”

“Why wouldn’t they be?” Dart wrinkles his nose at his apple. There’s a soft spot that’s all brown and mushy. Gross. “Feels like a small concession, if you ask me– oof.”

Oof being the way Dart steps into the hallway without looking and runs face first into someone else. Or face-to-chest? Since he’s slammed into their chest and left a spray of chewed apple on the unfortunate person’s shirt.

“Oh, sorry about that,” Dart says, rubbing the back of his wrist over his mouth. “I didn’t mean to– ah.” Heat stains his lightly-scaled cheeks.

Valon, his father, looks down at him with a completely unreadable expression. But that’s probably because Dart’s still working on reading Drylander faces. “Midnight snack?” he asks as he bends down to grab the carrots Dart dropped.

“Just a small one, sir,” Dart says. He can’t shape Father with his mouth yet, and honestly, he’s not sure Valon’s ready to hear it either. Valon, by his own admission, never planned to have a family.

Dart barely looks like his father. Maybe they have the same nose. They definitely have the same legs since legs don’t run in Dart’s seamer family. Mom doesn’t have legs. Just a long, sinuous lower half courtesy of her krait heritage. She gave him the faintly blue hair, the scales, the fins, the gills.

Maybe Valon’s eyes. Valon has bright blue eyes that wouldn’t be out of place under the sea, but everything else is Drylander. He’s taller than Dart, then again most Dryland warriors are, and his shoulders are broad. His hair is short and brown, his ears small and curved, his smile big and wide, with a pair of tusks jutting out in a curve to either side.

It was probably his smile that hooked Mom. She’s a sucker for a nice smile, and there’s something kind about Valon’s smile, for all that he’s usually set with a stern face. Dart blames that on his position. Valon’s one of the higher ranked members of the Ori and with that comes a whole heap of responsibility.

It’s impossible to say which of them gave Dart his blue skin, since both Mom and Valon have a blue tinge to their skin.

“I hope you’re well-stocked for the mission tomorrow,” Valon says. He looks Dart up and down, raises a brow at the flowing silk that is his current garb, but says nothing. “Do you feel adequately prepared?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Dart says. He tries to smile, and shows too much fang.

It discomfits some folks, even with all the Lamina around, his fangs make people uncomfortable. He’s no more likely to bite and envenomate than any of the other snakekin, but he’s a Kelple, and no one trusts a Kelple.

Valon, fortunately, doesn’t blink at Dart’s fangs either. He must not be too concerned about them, since he fucked Mom and everything, and sometimes, Dart really wants to know how that happened. Mom never talks about him. Riptide knows, up until Dart went onto Dryland and met Valon, Dart didn’t even know his father’s name.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine,” Valon says. He lifts a hand, but then awkwardly tucks it behind himself, clasping it with his other. “Look to Weaver for guidance. She has more experience than anyone in your party put together.”

Dart grins. “I’m lucky to have her.”

His entire team has been put together to support him. Weaver for her experience, Clare for her knowledge, Lucas and Lysia for Dart’s good working relationship and friendship, and Telemus because… because he needs the experience, too, Dart supposes. Or because Weaver insisted. If her favorite grandson is going to go on missions, then she’ll be damned if he goes out with anyone but her.

Honestly, if they fail, it’ll be due to Dart’s leadership and no other reason. No pressure or anything.

Valon nods and stares off into the middle distance, somewhere over Dart’s left shoulder. “You should get some rest, Dart. You have an early start.”

“Before dawn,” Dart says with a groan. “I remember.”

His father chuckles and steps to the side, leaving room for Dart to pass. “Good luck, Dart. May the Mother watch over you.”

Dart tips something like a salute with two fingers – he saw Lucas do it once. “Yes, sir. Uh. Good night.”

“Good night.” Valon’s amusement chases him down the hallway, the long tails of Dart’s borrowed over robe flapping around his legs.

“That went well,” Sirene says once Valon is out of sight and Dart slows to a loitering stroll. He bites into the apple viciously enough to splatter juice in all directions.

Dart rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you were paying attention. He practically told me that this is a tadpole run, and I better not fuck it up.”

“He did not use those words.”

“The implication was there,” Dart insists. He shoves the rest of the apple into his mouth, core and all, which would horrify Telemus had he seen.

He says it’s dangerous to eat apple seeds. That they’re toxic or something? Dart’s never had to worry about toxins in his entire life, and he hasn’t gotten sick yet. Telemus is just a picky eater, always plucking seeds or gritty bits out of his meals and flicking them away.

“I don’t like the texture,” he says, all while slanting a look at Weaver, praying his grandmother doesn’t notice him wasting so much as a bite.

Sirene sighs and floats around his thoughts like she’s caught in an eddy. “Eat your carrot,” she says. “Then go back to bed. Your father is right. You need rest.”

“If they want me to get rest, they shouldn’t make me get up before dawn,” Dart grumbles, but Sirene’s right, and Valon’s right, so he picks up the pace.

He takes the long route, dragging his feet through the narrow corridors, turning to the side a few times to let other members of the Ori pass. Most he doesn’t recognize, so they get a head tip and a greeting as he gnaws on his carrot. This outpost is really just a glorified waycamp.

Dart’s team leaves in the morning, two other units will be gone by midday, and the rest will be out by nightfall, leaving a handful of folks to mind the supplies until the next planning session. Dart won’t be coming back here after mission. They’re supposed to check in at the Reeds, another glorified waycamp smack dab in the middle of a marsh.

Fun times.

--------

Day 1 Word Count: 2095 Running Word Count: 2095

#draco writes #blorbowrimo 2024 #trial by sword #tethers universe

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anansislibrary · 4 months ago

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What level of yearning is this lol

Content, Cassandra

Soft animal I am

I lick these wounds you left me

As memories, a memory, still like pond water in my mind

Slits line my back like angels wings

Left by the touch of the only god I’d ever worship

God rends, my necessary excommunication met with outside elation

But pain in my own heart

I find it facinating how chemotherapy affects the body.

Hardly haughty any doctor can diagnose the dichotomy.

A blade slashes away at flesh in the name of fixing, hacks away to heal.

Poison atoms rip away skin outside and in,

And somehow cure a malady, yet leave scarred evidence

Who knew the spilling of blood

you endure with loving eyes measured and cool

Would prove a vital tool, cold and glinting,

a scalpel cutting out the parts of you entombed within me, and I you.

Put it back.

Let the rot train track through my veins

I’d lose my brains, distracting pain nothing new to me from June to may, to newer days if you could play,

Inside my mind, like every day,

You could slay

I won’t complain

I’d fall again, sword can penetrate, it can break my skin, I’d still celebrate

I’d fall on your blade with blessed baying lips lay a kiss upon your feet

Bowed, impaled, exhale

Damocles be damned

I’d slam ambling, be grand

In joy before you, restore you to your throne in my bleeding chest

I’d never rest

I’d do it all again

My sweetest suicide and sin

Id lay upon the guillotine, the cutting board, the floor

Cursed blade, love sinner, me,

Your love, unclean, your whore

My god your love is a sword I fall on with grinning lips

bringing praises unto Adonai from between your thighs.

And I won’t stop the bleeding

#writing community #writblr #dark acadamia aesthetic #writers on tumblr #dark academia #writing prompt #trans poem #black poetry #poet #poetry #sapphic

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kafus · 9 months ago

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so update it looks like 3DS RNG software doesn't have an option to backwards engineer RNG seed the same way pokefinder/rng reporter does with old gen, so i'm not able to double check whether the chespin was feasibly RNG manipulated or not without brute force checking every single seed, which i do not want to do sjdoifjoisfd unfortunate because i just think this sort of thing is super interesting wahh

that being said its memory data checks out and it also has one EV presumably from capturing the pidgey on the first route after losing to shauna, in which it would be able to be traded out over wonder trade, so its possible it was rnged and then the person decided they didn't want it (it could have just been a calibration rng) or they cloned it and sent out more of them or whatever. definitely don't think it was soft reset for because of the helpful nature and 3 perfect IVs, but RNG manipulation feels very possible to me. the only odd thing is i didn't actually receive it from the person who RNG'd it, it passed hands to someone in brazil first and then i received it from the brazil user (the chespin is from England lol) but it's possible the brazilian user thought it was hacked and tossed it backed out or just didn't want it for some reason i guess. or maybe they felt like passing out cool mons for pokemon day WHO KNOWS

regardless of whether it was legitimately obtained still a very cool find and i'm happy :^) and signs point to it being real, most hackers suck at genning mons LMFAO. this thing checks out in every conceivable way down to very niche data stuff. that's a lot of effort for a hacked chespin that doesn't even have a perfect 5-6 IV spread or something

ok my friend from wales is awake at this hour because timezones and is checking the chespin for me in 3ds rng tool because he's a king

#kiki was here #kiki.txt #kiki plays games #x playthrough

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shoutogepi · 4 years ago

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Spring Pollen

Takami Keigo

word count : 5.0k

[ ✘ (nsfw 18+) ]

genre : edging, gagging (glove use), sex pollen, public sex

bio: You and your coworker Hawks are caught off guard by a villain’s naughty quirk while on the middle of patrol.

author’s note : this is for bnha bookclub’s bingo event, for which i can now cross off the “sex pollen” slot ;) also pls go soft on me if this is rough as it’s my first hawks fic <3 TT

tags : @hawks-senseis @queensynderella @knifeewifee @prismaroyal

also available on AO3 here

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Working beside the number two hero had its ups and downs. For one, you were insanely attracted to him, and you absolutely refused to admit it— to him, yourself, really anyone who asked. Not that it came up in conversation often, of course. You made sure of that.

The blonde was known for his go-with-the-flow, playful attitude, and you were not discluded from such a privilege, despite your many complaints. Deep down, you didn’t really mind his flirtatious behavior. Being a hero, even if you were only a sidekick at the moment, was tiring work. You did not have much time for yourself, let alone time to find men who you could flirt with or even go on dates with. Or even find a fuck buddy.

God, it had been so long since you last received affection from a man. Work was your entire life now, and while you found comfort in knowing you were changing the world for the better— cleaning away the stain of evil on your city— you found yourself feeling lonely when you would return to your empty apartment each night.

So perhaps Hawks’ borderline suggestive comments were nice, welcome even. Not that you would ever tell him that. You would rather die than live with knowing he was privy to your thoughts; the mortification would simply be too much for you.

Little did you know, there was much desire and intention behind his seemingly meaningless flirting— for he, too, found you more than attractive. A walking, talking, gorgeous and independent woman who apparently wanted nothing to do with him— you were more than enough to catch his eye. But alas, you were years younger than the already-youthful hero himself, and you made it very clear to him that you did not want to do anything that could jeopardize your career at the agency the two of you were slaves to.

So the attraction went unspoken between the pair of you. Hawks would make a comment just a little too cheeky and you would roll your eyes or swat at him, and that would be the end of it. It would go on and on like this for months, and before you knew it, it had been almost a year of supporting the ever-popular winged hero. And everything was fine and good…

Until the red string on fate had to show its ugly face. And everything as you knew it was turned upside down on the head— the tall, prison-like walls you’d constructed to keep your feelings locked away all came tumbling down, right before your very eyes.

It had been a rather uneventful day of hero work, if you could recall correctly. Hawks had commented on your winged eyeliner that morning, saying how it made your eyes sparkle and give you an “avian edge”, which he found highly commendable. You had brushed him off, as usual, and the two of you had taken off to start your patrol, much like any other morning.

The sun was high in the sky, hanging cheerfully over the skyscrapers of the bustling city. The spring heat had not yet scorched the asphalt of the winding roads, a cool breeze tickling your skin as you walked beside the blonde hero. His large, scarlet wings were relaxed behind his shoulder blades, the very tips of his feathers brushing against your waist as you were pressed close to him on the busy sidewalk. It was all rather ordinary, looking back at it— you had just thrown away the wrappings from your on-the-go breakfast, feeling strengthened enough to take on whatever the day could possibly throw at you, when she appeared from what seemed like nowhere.

Hawks sprang into action immediately, recognizing the wicked glint in her eye much sooner than you. You were on a dull sideroad, almost an alleyway to be honest— a small street tucked away in the midst of the hasty city, sandwiched behind a few large buildings and the backs of restaurants. It was really the perfect place for a crime to occur, for there were few passerbys and no security cameras.

In just an instant, the number two hero was on his ass, nearly hacking up a lung as the offender sprayed a noxious cloud of pink spores directly into his face. The woman sported a vicious grin as she turned to you, and though Hawks tried his best to warn you of her attack, he found he could not speak— instead crumpling over to hold his stomach as his body seized with violent coughs. Just like that, you had fallen victim to her as well, your knees folding beneath you as your mind clouded over in a haze. You didn’t even register Hawks throwing her into the brick wall behind you, your brian too foggy to recognize anything before you. He was struggling to cuff the woman when he first began to sweat, his body beginning to tremble first in his chest, then spreading to his limbs and rushing into his veins, like the venom from a deadly serpent.

Your body felt hot— god, so hot— it was like liquid fire had been poured into your bloodstream, every cell of your body igniting into an all-consuming inferno. Sweat began to bead along your temple, the valley between your breasts, and the backs of your knees. You slumped onto the concrete beneath you, clammy palms scraping the rough pavement as you gasped for breath. But with each intake the symptoms only seemed to worsen, limbs growing weak and an intense pressure forming in your stomach, like an intruder attempting to burst through a barricaded door.

Hawks was busy fighting his own internal battle— the same feelings bubbling up inside of him as he clicked the quirk-canceling cuffs onto the assailant’s wrists, perhaps a notch or two too tight. He could feel himself coming to life underneath his trousers, fanning the growing fire in the pit of his stomach. “What did you do to us?” he bellowed, a mix between a groan and a growl. The tip of a ruby feather pointed itself at the base of her throat, a slight tremor shaking through the quill as his knees began to tremble.

The woman only laughed, amused by his blatant discomfort. Her eyes traveled over to your figure, curled into a tight ball on the ground. Hawks followed her gaze, distress panging through him as he realized the pained expression twisting your face.

“Reverse it,” he snarled, fists seizing the front of her shirt and pulling her body to sit upright.

But the villain only smirked, her busted lip not seeming to bother her as her eyes twinkled with malice. “Sorry, can’t do that,” she chuckled, though it came out sounding more like a wheeze, “no takesies-backsies.”

Hawks bared his teeth at her, his ferality getting the better of him as he slammed her against the brick wall another time. Her eyes fell closed and her body went limp, signalling she was out of commission for at least the time being.

“Damn it,” he groaned as her clothes slipped from his fingers, the digits opting to push into his wild tawny locks instead. Whatever quirk this woman had used on him was working too fast, and its effects were too strong. His cock was rock hard, straining against the confining material of his pants, and his body was becoming much too strung out from restraining his amplifying desire.

Chills rolled down his spine as you called out to him, your voice breathy and rough. His gloved hands clamped into fists as he shut his eyes, praying to whatever god there was to lend him the strength necessary to keep himself from tackling you and ripping off your clothes. He had never felt so desperate for you before— never had he needed to touch and taste every inch of you like he did right now. Whatever longing he had harbored for you before this morning was nothing in comparison to the emotions clobbering his sense of self-control at the moment— god, if you even called out for him one more time, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself from taking you, right here and now.

Little did he know, that was the one thing you wanted— needed, even— more than anything.

Your arms were crossed atop your chest, your knees tucking in to bend in front of them as you literally held yourself together. You could feel yourself leaking from between your legs, pussy twitching and itchy for any kind of attention you could get. “P-Please, Keigo,” you whimpered, your hands slowly trailing down your biceps, a palm clutching your own breast, thumb rubbing over the stiff nipple that stood out from beneath your hero suit.

Hawks couldn’t stand still for another second— the sound of his name from your lips too arousing, too intimate— he was on his knees before you in a flash. Both of you moaned as his lips slotted over yours, not a moment to spare as your body unfurled and wrapped around his frame, pulling him flush against yourself. His tongue pushed into your mouth, the tip twirling with yours and gliding against the back of your teeth.

Lost in the pleasure of his mouth on yours, your hands wandered over his shoulders, his chest, one taking root in his silky, fine hair. You could smell his aftershave wafting off his cheeks, the stubble on his chin tickling you as he began to kiss and nip at your jaw. He was insatiable, and so were you— your hands groping and wandering all over each other. Neither of you could get enough.

You couldn’t believe that this was really happening, in the middle of this secluded, public alleyway, during your patrol as heroes— figures that the citizens of your city looked up to, no less. Yet you couldn’t find a shit to give, and Hawks had abandoned all sense of rationality the moment you dared to cry out for him. He didn’t seem to mind the public setting, for he didn’t harbor a shred of hesitance as he swatted your hand away from your chest. His own palm squeezed your breast as he suckled on your throat, making his first of many marks that would grace your skin.

It wasn’t long before he had you against the brick wall, your body snug between his firm torso and the roughness of the bricks at your back. His face trailed further south, his absence at your neck leaving your saliva-covered skin to prickle with cold. But you weren’t left pining for more long— his teeth gripping onto your nipple through your shirt, kissing and sucking at your covered chest as his hands careened down your waist, cupping your ass and lifting you off your feet just enough for your toes to drag across the pavement.

Your heart leapt into your throat as Hawks sunk to his knees, folding your legs over his shoulders and pressing his face into the apex between your thighs. His strong arms flexed as he held you up against the wall, your legs twitching as he pressed a line of kisses into your skin. Somehow you managed to wriggle out of your bottoms, your soaked panties now on full display for the winged hero, who only groaned at the sight before his tongue began to lather at the front of the material, right over your aching slit.

You felt itchy, itchier than you’d ever been before, your cunt pulsing and squeezing around nothing as you tried to wiggle your hips closer to his mouth. “H-Hawks,” you gasped as his teeth pinched the cloth, pulling it back and letting go, just to watch it snap against your drooling center.

“No, no, little bird,” he murmured sinisterly, taking a second to rub his nose along your slit, smirking at the clearly visible line of wetness that had soaked through the material. The teasing was torture, your body screaming for him to touch you again, for even more this time.

You cut him off, too impatient for his games. “Please touch me,” you begged, breath ragged in your chest.

Golden eyes turned to slits as he grit his teeth, fighting himself not to just whip out his cock and thrust into you right then and there. “If you’re gonna beg, do it properly. I wanna hear my name, dove.”

You couldn’t handle another second of agony; everything felt like it was on fire, every inch of you ready to be used, destroyed at his disposal. “Please fuck me— I— please Keigo, I need you so bad, I can’t stand it anymore!”

Hawks grinned as he ripped your panties off your body, the splitting of the seams shocking you into looking down at him. If anything, the ferocious action only turned you on even more than before, and you screamed out as his tongue immediately wove into your tight little hole. Your entire body shook as his hot muscle slithered in and out of you, alternating between tracing your entrance and rubbing against your slick, gummy walls.

There was nothing you could do but bask in the euphoria he was giving you, your jaw falling open as his tongue retracted and he wrapped his lips around your clit instead. Your eyes slammed shut, moans escaping you as your fingers delved into those bronze locks, fisting them as you ground against his face. His chin rubbed against your weeping entrance, and Hawks found himself wishing he had two tongues, so he could lap up the delicious slick that poured out of your gushing hole.

But it stopped all too soon, a sob choking out of you when he stopped satiating you with his mouth. His hand guided one of your thighs off his shoulder, placing your foot on the pavement and giving your shaking limb an encouraging squeeze before he took his hand away. His slanted eyes locked with yours as he brought his hand to his mouth, teeth securing the edge of his glove and ripping the accessory off, revealing his long, slender fingers to your lustful gaze. The hero then crumpled the leather into a tight ball, extending his arm up to your face and pressing it against your lips.

“Can’t have my dove making too much noise now, can I?” he mumbled, a feathered brow quirking up to give him a classic, mischievous look. “Too noisy and we’ll have to cut our fun short.”

At that you shyly opened your mouth, allowing him to press the glove past your lips. Once it was secure, his thumb brushed over your cheek as he grinned, his fingers then sliding down to pinch at your nipples. You moaned at the sensation, the leather glove in your mouth muffling the noise almost completely.

Hawks’ smile only broadened at that, leaning forward to take your clit into his mouth again. Your hips bucked against him, the thigh over his shoulder curling tighter and pressing him closer to you. It felt good— so incredibly good to have his tongue entertaining your pearl of nerves, lathering and swirling it, even using his teeth to graze against it. Your head fell back onto the wall behind you, eyelids fluttering shut as his fingers around your leg dug into your flesh, his other hand squishing at your chest before trailing down your waist, then down your thigh.

Suddenly his fingers were toying with your entrance, your slick stringing as he spread his fingers, golden gaze eagerly drinking up the sight of your arousal. Oh, how he’d longed for the day he could finally do this to his sweet little sidekick— to be able to lick and kiss and nip at your most sensitive parts, only to hear you moan and whine his name, gasping for more. It was even better that his glove was shoved into your mouth, muting your saccharine voice just enough so that no one else could hear you— your noises of pleasure were his and only his to hear, to soak up, and indulge in.

You cried out as two digits slipped inside of you, your wetness never having been so overt in your life. The extra slick dripped down the tops of your thighs, your pussy shamelessly slobbering for the man currently knelt between your legs. Your velvet walls sucked his fingers deeper inside, milking them as your cunt clenched uncontrollably, his tongue relentlessly lashing against your swollen clit. Hawks’ fingers pumped into you steadily, sheathing and pulling out just the first two knuckles into your waiting hole time and time again. The movements initially were slow, as if testing the waters. But after a few exploratory thrusts, he pushed the digits inside of you as far as he could, curling them toward himself and prodding your spongy walls.

He wouldn’t stop, he couldn’t stop— you tasted too damn delicious, and his cock was leaking into his briefs at the premise of being inside you, your stifled sounds only adding fuel to the fire in his stomach. Your body was beginning to show signs of near-orgasm, and it only made him more excited to see you so reactive for him. Your eyes were shut tight, fingers pulling on his golden tresses so tightly he could feel his mind practically spinning. And your legs were trembling, almost so badly that he wondered if you were going to collapse on top of him at any moment.

You whimpered as his hand switched angles, the very tips of his fingers rubbing right against the most sensitive spot inside of you. Hawks noticed your body twitch, even though you tried your best to keep your reaction a secret to him, ashamed to already be so close to cumming. But the winged hero was feeling anything but shame— pressing his fingers into that spot again and again, savoring how your cries became louder underneath his glove in your mouth, your limbs quivering against his skin. You tried to warn him, your thigh squeezing tight around his shoulder, your fingers lacing even tighter into his hair, spine stiffening.

Hawks seemed to know what was coming, for his fingers began flicking back and forth inside of you, stimulating that soft, spongy spot that made stars blur at the corners of your vision. Your toes curled tight inside your boots, tears pooling between your eyelashes, your body feeling as though it was trapped inside an elevator surging toward the thousandth floor of a skyscraper. The tension was building, building, oh it was so close— you could practically see the heavenly, orgasmic light shining just before you, and then—

He pulled back.

Had his glove not been occupying your mouth, your whine of anguish would have echoed off the stone walls of the alleyway, your body slumping into his arms in complete dejection. Your brows were furrowed in torment, wondering how in the world Hawks had the strength to pull away from you when you were in such a state— you were practically imploring for his attention, body so hot and willing that you’d let him do anything he could possibly want to you.

You were too lost mourning the lost orgasm to notice Hawks haphazardly shoving his pants down, pulling his black, tight shirt halfway up his abs. His cock sprang up from its confines, his eyes just slits as he focused his gaze on your dripping cunt, still twitching in misery from his teasing torture. You only realized you were being maneuvered once it was too late— he had dropped the leg that had previously rested on his shoulder, instead taking the other and pushing it to press up against the wall, his fingers digging into your thigh. He was upright now, teeth taking the tip of your ear hostage as he rutted his heavy cock against your saturated slit.

Fresh waves of lust rippled through your body, your bones turning cold with white-hot anticipation. You could feel everything— his member sliding against your entrance, gliding against you from head to base, even the veins decorating his shaft as they brushed against your aching core.

Hawks’ breath was heavy in your ear, but that only made you want him more. It was the only physical sign that he was just as affected as you; the soft groan falling from his lips as you bucked against him was proof enough of that. Yet somehow he staved off from thrusting into you, despite your pussy coating his whole length in your slippery love syrup.

You tried to complain, but the glove between your lips jumbled any words into a muted mess.

He seemed to be amused by your efforts, his honey gaze seizing yours. “If I take that out for you, do you promise you’ll be a good little dove for me? Can’t have you singing too loud, alright?” His words were music to your ears, and you quickly nodded your head, eager to prove yourself to him. But he didn’t move a muscle; only his tongue wandered out to swipe across his bottom lip, which then disappeared between his teeth. His eyes darted south, and before yours could follow suit, he pushed inside you to the hilt.

You screamed as he forced your elastic walls to stretch around him, the thickness of his cock taking you by surprise. Intense pleasure burst into your body as he pulled out halfway, sheathing himself back inside almost immediately. Hawks’ eyes were shut tight, savoring the way your cunt hugged him so perfectly. Already you were milking him, and he knew there was no way he could last.

It didn’t matter, really, because the instant his hand slid down your pelvis and his fingers began to toy with your clit, you were gone. Instantly that intense pressure built just like it had before, for a split second it was all you could feel. And then you were crashing through your orgasm, his name the only thing on your brain. You called it out again and again, ecstasy zipping through your veins and toward the intense heat that the villain’s quirk had produced. The sensations clashed in a fiery explosion, your entire body straining as you did your best to handle the pleasure, your pussy wringing tight around Hawks’ cock.

Hawks gasped, his head falling to your shoulder at the intensity— at the snugness of your cunt like a vice around him, at the sound of your muffled cries for him, at the way your body trembled in his hands. He didn’t wait long, though, for after the initial shock of your orgasm arriving, his hips began to ruthlessly smack against yours. His grip was now tight on your body, fingernails digging little crescents into the skin of your thigh and your asscheek, which he pulled back to slide himself even deeper inside of you.

Your head smacked against the brick as it fell backwards, the pleasure flowing endlessly through your entire body. It was only then that Hawks bothered to take his glove from between your lips, and you immediately gasped for the sweet rush of air that filled your mouth. Small noises of content slithered out of you with every crash of his hips against you, impossible for you to silence the constant “hah” and “yes”’es. Not that Hawks seemed to really mind— in fact, he was eating up every sweet noise that left your throat, cherishing the cute, dazed look on your face as he pummeled your tight little cunt with his fat cock.

It was wrong to be this attracted to his sidekick, he knew. But maybe that was why it felt so fucking good, too— the forbidden, unspoken attraction that hung between the pair of you like a heavy shadow whenever you were together. The line had been crossed, and god, was the grass greener on the other side. If this was what being with you felt like, he didn’t want to go back. He couldn’t— he’d tasted your sweet ambrosia and he could never push you away again. You were pouring life into him as you took his cock so perfectly, and he could feel nothing but euphoria as he slammed your cunt onto himself again and again.

His release was building, but goddamn it, he was gonna hold out for as long as he could. He was gonna make you feel as good as he possibly could, and hopefully it was something that could mirror the intense bliss that you were giving him. From the way your irises rolled back in your skull, your nails gripping into his muscles tightly as your jaw hung ajar, his name slipping through your lips every other thrust— he guessed he was doing a pretty good job.

Meanwhile your brain was nearly liquefying in your skull, the aftershocks of your orgasm still stinging your bones with pleasure. Hawks never let you come down from your high, and he was doing a damn good job at keeping you on cloud nine— his hand holding up your thigh so he had a better angle to continue drilling into that sweet, springy spot inside of you. His wings began to flutter and stretch behind him, flapping gently with each swing of his hips. It felt so good that you could barely keep yourself from screaming for him, from letting the entire city know that it was him who was fucking you so good.

“K-Keigo,” you choked, a tear sliding down your cheek. Hawks moaned at the sound of his name on your voice, leaning forward to lick up the saline bead before he pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, a shocking contrast to how hard he was pounding into you just a short distance south. “Feels so— agh! fuck— good, oh my goddd.”

Hawks nipped at your throat, burying his face in your neck as his thrusts became more shallow, his pace beginning to falter. “You like my cock, dove?” he growled, chest heaving as that intense pressure started to build in his stomach. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ wet for me— T-Tight! Hah, shit— s’too fuckin’ good baby.”

You could only moan at his words, cunt clenching down on him on its own accord. Hawks gasped at the feeling, teeth sinking into your throat as the heat of the quirk clashed with the heightened tension in his abdomen. The collision of the two sensations proved to be too much for the winged hero to handle, a groan rumbling his throat as he painted your insides white with ribbons of cum, his wings unfurling and each individual feather quivering in sheer ecstasy. His body shook, muscles taut as he emptied himself into your dripping cunt, arms wrapping tight around your waist as he gasped for breath.

The heat from your bodies began to dwindle, the villain’s quirk exiting your systems and rendering the two of you boneless, breathless, and satisfied like never before. It suddenly dawned on you that you were in the middle of an alleyway, the cool spring breeze touseling Hawks’ blonde hair before your eyes. He was still wrapped around you, trying to catch his breath as his cock continued to throb against your silken walls. The pair of you stood still against the brick wall, the fact that you’d just crossed such a serious line with your closest coworker setting in. There was a sense of dread that began to bloom in your chest, your suppressed feelings for the hero unleashed and thriving, now more than ever.

Before you could overthink for another second, Hawks pulled back, warm golden eyes peering into yours. “I gotta say, dove,” he murmured, a hand coming to cup your jaw and stroke his thumb across your skin, “that was definitely the best quirk I’ve ever been hit with on the job.”

You chuckled at that, the weight of the situation instantly lightening up as you gave him a slow nod of agreement. Your heart began to beat quickly as you gathered the courage to take it a step further than his confession. “I’m glad it was with you,” you replied quietly, meekly averting your gaze to the side.

Hawks hummed, thumbing over your cheek again as a smile rose to his lips. He pressed his mouth to yours again, fingers creeping into your hair as he pulled your face close to his. This kiss was unlike any you shared before, conveying only a sweetness, fondness even— a comforting reciprocation. You smiled against his lips, too, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him back, your fear dissipating as fast as it had come.

“I’m glad, too,” Hawks mumbled between your kisses, pulling away to quirk a brow at you playfully. “Can you imagine if I was with Endeavor instead?” he made the both of you laugh before leaning in to press his lips against yours again, the image of the serious, number one hero and your coworker in such a situation too hilarious not to laugh. But just as you started to deepen the kiss, he couldn’t resist throwing in the punchline he’d set up.

“I’d be a damn rotisserie chicken by now.”

─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

sdfghj i never know how to end these and also why do i use this many dashes i am sORRY if you enjoyed pls make sure to lemme know~~ 💕

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#whew its 2am i did it #takami keigo smut #hawks smut #bnha smut #mha smut #takami keigo x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #takami keigo fic #hawks fic #bnha fic #mha fic #skskksks I LOVE GLOVES SHOVE THAT SHIT IN ME MOUTH ZADDY

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the-last-kenobi · 3 years ago

Note

Just saw your Bad Things Bingo square post and I don’t know what’s still left after the other asks so take your pick if there’s anything left! Your choice of prompt w/ hurt Obi-Wan! (Also thank you for blessing us with your writing, it truly always makes my day to see anything your post)

Absolutely!! Took me long enough my beloved mutual but I finally made it.

I went with: stalking

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS because the stupid tag bans are making this very tricky. tw for stalking, manipulation, dark thoughts, violence, harm against minors, kidnapping, and general creepiness.

They were waiting in hangar 9.

It was very early - barely dawn - but they were there as requested, fully dressed and standing with packed bags over their arms, ready for departure.

The small fourteen-year-old Padawan looked almost tiny standing next to his towering Master, who seemed lost in thought. He kept turning away from the boy, one hand rising to his chin as he pondered whatever was so clearly on his mind.

The boy shifted on his feet, stilling only whenever his Master glanced at him.

He was anxious. Nervous and uncertain of himself.

But that was all right. That could be fixed, in time, though not by the man who at this very moment was striding away, deep in thought.

The boy stood where he had been left, both bags set at his feet like visible representation of the weight he carried.

Looking closer, there was - just briefly, just fleetingly - an expression of intense loneliness on his pale face.

A soft snap.

There.

Now, that was a good picture. Close up on the boy’s face, white beneath shock of pale red hair, striking against the cool greys and shadows of the hangar. Just the boy.

He’d have it printed into a flatpic later, like the others.

The man with the camera turned and vanished back into the byways and cracks of Coruscant just as the Jedi’s ship docked, the new image clutched in his fist.

He’d be back soon.

___

Today it was raining.

It made for a lovely blurring effect around the edges of the photo, but it made it difficult to focus the camera on the boy’s face.

He descended the ramp of the ship side by side with his Master, but once again, his mentor’s attention wandered. He stood beside his student, one hand on his shoulder, but with his other he was holding a comm unit to his lips and speaking intently.

The boy kept his head lowered, eyes on his shoes.

Waiting, ignored, because he must.

The camera slid in and out of focus, from the rain to the boy to the rain again.

He almost let out a hiss of frustration, but no, no, patience was always required for capturing perfect art.

Just a few moments more…

The camera clicked just as the boy lifted his eyes to look doubtfully up at his Master. The smallest raindrops clung to the small lens, creating a net of blurred glimmers around his face, highlighting the way his blue-green eyes sparkled in the half light.

He was still so lonely.

Taken on a sudden whim, he shifted the camera to the adult Jedi’s face, watching closely.

After a moment, he lowered the comm and turned his gaze back to the boy, his lips framing a word: ‘Oh-bee-one.’

He wondered what that looked like written out.

But he’d find out sooner or later.

___

Hacking into the Temple servers hadn’t been nearly as troublesome as rumored. Apparently the Jedi, consumed as they were with their “Force” and their sanctimonious trust in the Senate, did not bother with proper security.

But never mind. It was a benefit to him, and eventually to Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It was a nice name. It had rhythm and rhyme; it suited the boy. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yes, he liked that very much.

He turned aside from the stolen files to glance at the desk beside him, spread with almost a dozen flat pics. Some were cast in shades of sunshine and warmth, others in muted greys; some were taken from far away, the focus off in the distance, and others were much closer. But all of them were of Obi-Wan.

And he was unattended, or almost so, in every single one.

Not for much longer though.

He picked up the most recent - the red-haired padawan on the front steps of the Temple, sitting alone, waiting for someone who was very late to arrive.

Obi-Wan had his arms wrapped around his legs and his chin propped on his knees, half of him lit up by the blazing sunset and the other framed in shadow.

A thumb swept over the glossy picture, pausing to rest against the image of the padawan’s pale cheekbone.

___

He paced furiously in his cramped living space, on the verge of tearing out his hair, fingers tangled in the dry brown locks and twisting painfully.

Obi-Wan Kenobi and his teacher had been meant to enter into the heart of the city today, to conduct business at the Senate building. The increased security would have made approaching the boy directly impossible, but he could have gotten close. Brushed his hand along his sleeve. Conveyed on some subconscious level that Obi-Wan was not alone.

But for reasons he could not determine, the outing had been cancelled, and another Master and student sent in their place.

It was unbearable.

___

He breached the Temple servers again.

The boy and his Master had been harder to catch recently, staying inside the heart of their Temple more and more. The system informed him that they were participating in a round of group courses and training sessions for the coming few weeks.

That was unacceptable.

Obi-Wan was all alone in there.

He had to get him out.

So he pushed and prodded and pulled strings, and the boy and his teacher were scheduled for a simple treaty witnessing on Alderaan. A safe and relatively nearby Core world. There would be no reason to question.

Then he scheduled them to take semi-private transport. First class. Departing from a mass transportation dock.

It happened sometimes, when Core worlds wished to flatter the Jedi with unnecessary luxury. Alderaan usually knew better than to trod on the Order’s toes in such a way, but this once, just this once, it would be overlooked.

It was easy. The Order was rotting and tepid.

He had to get Obi-Wan away.

Three days. He only had to wait three days more, and then Obi-Wan would be safe - he would not fail as he had before.

___

Obi-Wan started out right beside his Master, taking two or three rapid steps for each one of the man’s long strides.

But the closer they got to the docking station, the more purposeful the Master became, more fixated on their departure.

Obi-Wan fell behind, slowly but surely.

He watched it happen from many meters away, and as the distance between teacher and student grew, he closed the distance between himself and the boy, his heart aching at the thought of Obi-Wan all alone in the crowd.

He watched the tall Jedi Master get farther and farther away, the people in between beginning to hide him from view.

Then he stepped seamlessly to Obi-Wan’s side and tripped deliberately over thin air, falling directly into the boy’s path.

Obi-Wan reached out and caught his arm to steady him, and he stood up, smiling warmly. “Thank you,” he said sincerely, fighting back tears that wanted to gather - this boy was so good, so ridiculously good, so much better than the life he had been given, but they were so, so close to fixing that. “Thank you,” he said again, and squeezed the boy’s hands in his, triggering the small device in his palm.

The tiniest of needles punctured Obi-Wan’s skin. He didn’t flinch, but carefully and politely began trying to pull his hands away.

He did not allow this. He held Obi-Wan’s hands more tightly and said, “I’m feeling a little lightheaded. Could you help me over to a bench?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Of course. I have a little time before our ship departs.”

He was kind. Much too kind.

He timed it very carefully. It should work - it would work - but they had to time each step so perfectly. Obi-Wan must follow the plotted steps without realizing that he was doing it.

One, two, three, four, five - they were halfway to the middle of the platform now, nearer to the benches than the waiting ship where his Master was no doubt preparing to board, oblivious.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen - nearly to the benches.

The ship on the other side of the platform was announcing its departure. The doors were closing one by one, back to front.

Fifteen, sixteen - Obi-Wan moved to help him onto one of the benches, and finally, it was time to act. He shifted his hands from holding Obi-Wan’s to gripping the boy’s elbows, and spun them on the spot so that Obi-Wan’s back was to the benches. Before the boy could so much as exclaim he pushed, almost running with him, and they hurtled over the threshold of a door to the departing shuttle a split second before it closed. A ticket droid pinged loudly at them, and he held two cards up for it to scan.

They had done it.

They had escaped, on a shuttle going an entirely different direction, and they were safe.

He beamed down at Obi-Wan, who was looking back at him with shock written all over his young face, trying to pull away.

“Let go of me,” he said. Then louder, more desperate, “Let go of me! This isn’t my ship, please!”

A door down the hall began to open as someone either came to investigate or simply had unfortunate timing, and he let go of one of Obi-Wan’s arms just long enough to open the door of their compartment and shoved him quickly inside, shutting the door behind them and turning quickly to push Obi-Wan against the side wall, covering his mouth firmly with one hand.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were terrified, and his chest ached at the sight. “Shhh,” he said gently. “Shhh. Everything is all right. You’ll see. We’ve escaped.”

Obi-Wan made muffled, panicked pleas beneath his hand, struggling with his whole body to get away.

“It’s all right,” he said again. “My name is Tabor. I’ve been watching out for you. I got us this ship, Obi-Wan…I’m going to take care of you, Obi-Wan. You’ll fall asleep soon. Just calm down.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes suddenly snapped directly to his, and he stilled. Warm breaths puffed against Tabor’s muffling palm, but the boy wasn’t panicking anymore.

Instead he raised his eyebrows and glanced over Tabor’s shoulder into the darkness of their room, and an instant later, he was yanked off the boy by a powerful hand and almost thrown to the other side of the room.

A brilliant green light flared into being and a lightsaber was held inches from his throat, illuminating the terrible expression of the man wielding it.

Obi-Wan’s Master was here.

“You are under arrest,” the man said quietly, his eyes burning with an anger and disgust so deep Tabor could not find a word for it. “The Judicial forces have approved your transfer of jurisdiction to the Jedi Order. You are charged with the attempted kidnapping and accidental death of Padawan Gennia Va’breem, with unauthorized access of legal and personal information, with interfering with procedures of the Jedi Order, and with the attempted kidnapping of Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Tabor stared up at the man, dumbfounded. This was not the same man who had been in the background of all of Obi-Wan’s pictures, it couldn’t be. That man had been impersonal and distant and useless, as two-dimensional as the paper the few images he made it into were printed on.

This man was not that.

“Masters,” the Jedi called, and the door to the compartment opened again, admitting two other Jedi, their own sabers ready in their hands.

“Master Jinn,” one of them, a young humanoid, said. “Well done. Do you want us to take him from here?”

“Please,” said Obi-Wan’s Master. “I need to tend to Obi-Wan.”

Tabor shook himself out of his stupor as the other two Jedi disarmed and cuffed him, shunting him towards the door. He realized, belatedly, that the ship was not moving. They had never made their escape. The Jedi had been here all along. “Obi-Wan!” He cried, looking to the boy, still standing next to the wall. “Obi-Wan, you don’t have to stay with them, you could be happy with me—”

The boy’s Master stepped between them, blocking him from view. His face was calm, but his eyes were full of that same thunder.

He said nothing. He didn’t need to. Tabor was silent as he was pulled from the room, unable to catch another glimpse of the padawan.

___

“Obi-Wan,” someone said.

Obi-Wan blinked slowly. His eyelids felt so heavy. He didn’t want to open them, if he even could.

Someone was holding his hand. “Obi-Wan.”

Alarm shot through him. He was caught, he was trapped, this person had drugged him and they knew his name— he struggled, a small whine escaping his lips.

A hand stroked his forehead. “Padawan, open your eyes and see.”

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan did so.

It was bright. Warm. The ceiling, which he saw first, was a familiar pale beige, and the walls, those were familiar too. The sights and scents and sounds all rang comfortably in his senses, telling him that he was safe, that he was home.

But most importantly, Qui-Gon was sitting beside his bed, holding one of Obi-Wan’s small hands in one of his larger and more callused ones. He smiled, and Obi-Wan smiled back. “Hello Master,” he said tiredly.

“Hello,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes crinkling again. “I’m glad to see you awake.”

“How long was I asleep?” Obi-Wan wanted to know.

Qui-Gon’s thumb began to move back and forth over Obi-Wan’s wrist, almost unconsciously it seemed. “Only a few hours. The drug was mild. The Healers thought it wise to let you sleep it off.”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t quick enough to stop him with the injector. I didn’t even see it.”

His Master’s grip on his hand tightened for a moment; his expression flickered. “That wasn’t your fault. We could not have prepared for every eventuality, but we should have done better. I am thankful it was only a sedative, Obi-Wan. How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right, Master,” said Obi-Wan steadily, and he turned his hand a little in Qui-Gon’s so that his own thumb was free and began running it up and down the side of his Master’s hand, deliberately echoing the unconscious comfort Qui-Gon had been giving him.

Some of the tension in his Master’s face smoothed out, his lips quirking into a slight smile.

“I wasn’t truly afraid, Master. I volunteered to be the bait when they first noticed he was following me, after what happened with Gennia. I knew what I was signing up for. I knew you were there with me the entire time.”

“I was,” Qui-Gon murmured. “I swear, I was.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said again. He blinked sleepily.

Then - “But Master, I really would just like to be assigned to class rotations for awhile now.”

Qui-Gon chuckled, shaking his head in weary amusement. “Yes, I quite agree, Padawan-mine. No more risky assignments for a good while yet.”

Obi-Wan blinked drowsily up at him and smiled one more time before sliding back into a more natural sleep, registering dimly when his Master began to run his thumb soothingly over the back of Obi-Wan’s hand, as if to remind him that he was still right there.

His sleep was dreamless and untroubled, and the next time he woke, there was no moment of panic, just a gradual waking and the knowledge that he was safe. His Master was sleeping in just the next room, and all was well.

fin

#bad things happen bingo #star wars #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #qui gon and obi wan #jedi apprentice #tw stalking #tw kidnapping #tw non consensual drugging

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simons-temple-of-eros · 3 years ago

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stanford pines x reader hanahaki drabble

so here it is. a brainspill of a drabble i throw together because i wanted to write something sorta angsty. he/they pronouns are used for the reader and also tw for blood. egregious use of flower symbolism ahead!

♡ ♥ ♠ ♣ © ☞ 〠♬♩ ♫ □ ☎ ■♪$☆●＋＊，＋◇◆

When people thought about rose, they more often thought about the red rose.

Red like the passion of burning love, red like the the color of a freshly picked apple, like the reds of the skies as the sun shined its final rays of the day.

Red like blood, warm as it stained his lips. Coppery liquid staining the tiles of the bathroom floor.

White roses were the lesser seen rose. Some saw them as the colder, more aloof rose. The rose that showed its thorns more than its petals.

And yet you couldn't stay away. And with every gentle touch of the flower you would find your hands scratched and marred and red.

Red like a rose like the red that now stained the angelic beauty of the white rose.

But you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop, feeling like a moth drawn into the dazzling beauty of the blue light and unaware, or uncaring, about the pain it would bring.

Even now, as the thorns of the beautiful yet painful flora tore you throat and filled your lungs with ivory petals, you refused to stop.

Even when you see the way he looks at his muse, the way his eyes glowed with a light you wished would've been from you, the way the feeling grows roots in your heart with a cold ache that brings with it more snow hued flowers stained red.

You reach for the white roses once more. You hope maybe this time you'll feel soft petals instead of jagged thorns.

One day, he starts to find roses.

Not yellow roses, not orange or red but a cool white color of petals scattered about.

He doesn't know why but the sight fills him with a sense of dread.

He knows he should look into it, but his assistant (who looks more and more tired these days) tells him it's probably just the wind. His muse agrees. (but there was an almost knowing look in his eye as he did so.)

The scientist casts his concern aside.

But the concerns come back and take firm root the day he finds a bundle of these flowers splattered with crimson blood in the trash like some morbid sort of bouquet.

When he asks his assistant about the matter, he's suddenly aware of the look in his eyes. The eyes that so often carried a starry sort of fascination (something the scientist had shyly chalked up to being a similar interest in the paranormal) had a tired sort of darkness to them.

Something was clearly wrong, so why why wouldn't they tell him?

He becomes extra gentle towards his partner, keeping him from the more dangerous bits of their work and praising him for his help. Yet his best efforts only seem to make them shy away.

The scientist is sure that there's something he's missing, a truth hiding just under the surface but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. On what made his dear assistant look at him with a mixture of hope and sorrow.

White petals cover the floor, red red red blood staining them and his hands.

None of it matters, though, not while his partner is doubled over in his arms, painfully hacking up blood and flora.

Suddenly he doesn't think he likes the look of roses anymore.

Eventually, the 'attack' seems to abate and his partner is leaning against him, avoiding his eyes.

"Mmm s'rrry..." He wheezes out, eyes at the ground in guilt.

"Shhh.. just... breathe for me, please." He gently rubs circles on their back, the action coming to him easily from faded memories. (crying in bed, a gruff voice telling him promises of sailing the ocean, of finding a place where people like them can belong, he shakes this thought away for now.) He searches his mind for something to say, but only one thought comes to mind;

"Who is it?"

A silence. "It doesn't matter..."

"You just coughed up half your weight in blood and roses, if I hadn't found you..." A shudder goes through him.

"...He-they... they d-don't feel the same."

"How can you be sure?"

"...They have more important things.. more important-" A rough cough startles the two of them and the scientist only holds his assistant tighter. "more important than...me..."

He feels a sense of indignation at this. The thought that there could be anything in the world more important than you. The thought that there was someone out there who could brush you off despite your obvious pain... He finds himself unintentionally pulling you closer.

"Listen to me, whoever thinks you're worth less to them than anything else doesn't deserve you. Not one bit. If it were me, I would spend every day of my life making sure you feel every bit of adoration you deserve." He surprises himself with this sudden declaration, but when you look up at him with eyes full of such hope he can't bring himself to retract what he said.

"...You think s-so...?" With all the tenderness you dreamt of, he takes your chin in his hands, wiping away the drops of blood still there.

"If that doesn't convince you, than perhaps I should show you..." You didn't know what he meant until you felt his lips gentle meet yours. He could taste the copper tinged petals on your lips but he didn't care.

He didn't find any roses after that.

#stanford pines x reader #ford pines x reader #he/they reader #hanahaki disease #science husband #tw blood #my writing

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idontblushsrry · 4 years ago

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Sesshomaru|| SFW Alphabet

A/N: Heheh he seggsy ft. a gender neutral reader

Word Count: 2140

A: Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Sesshomaru shows affection by cutting off the heads of those that would dare threaten you and overall ensuring your safety. He also lets you lay on him, whether in human form or demon form, the fact that he lets you lay on him, let alone be near him when he’s so vulnerable speaks volumes of your bond.

B: Best Friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Sesshomaru doesn’t really do best friends, if he’s interested in you, he’ll make it known when he feels is most appropriate but otherwise you’re likely in his mind at least a subordinate or acquaintance at most.

C: Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

As stated before, Sesshomaru is a secret cuddler, even more surprising is the fact that he’s good at it. Sesshomaru’s cuddles are warm and fluffy and his arm wrapped tight around your waist makes you feel safe and secure. When he’s cuddling you, he’ll also bury his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder, to him this is where your scent is strongest and he loves to be reminded of it as the rest of your scent slowly blends into his.

D: Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Settling down for Sesshomaru is kind of a weird term, it takes a lot of explaining and even then he’s still confused. When you ask him about it though, he informs you that you’re more than welcome to stay at his castle, but part of his duty is patrolling his land. He can’t settle down but he swears to you that you’ll never want for anything so long as you allow him to stand by your side.

E: Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

To be honest, Sesshomaru would probably just drop you off at the nearest human settlement/demon settlement (if it’s a really bad breakup he’ll just leave you to fend for yourself). If Rin is particularly attached to you, he may feel bad internally but in his mind, she’ll have to understand that the two of you just weren’t meant to last.

F: Fiance(e) (How would they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Sesshomaru is kind of already engaged to you once you accept his courting offer. While he won’t be pushy about it, he does want to marry you as soon as possible. The moment you agree to marry him is the happiest day of his long life, and the whole affair is a week long festivity followed by a month long honeymoon.

G: Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Sesshomaru is by no means gentle. Maybe if pushed to the brink of desperation to where your life was in danger, he’d crack just a little bit, the aftermath of which he’d make some excuse to always be holding or carrying you. Overall though, he’s not really gentle but he doesn’t need to be, he more than makes up for it because he treats you like you’re a gift from the heavens and a grace to all living things.

H: Hugs( Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He doesn’t initiate hugs, ever. He lets Rin hug him and you but that’s about it. If anyone else tried to hug him, he’d cut their arms off and if anyone aside from Jaken or Ah-Un saw him receiving a hug they’d better start running.

I: I love you (How fast do they say the L-word)

Like with settling down, it takes some convincing and a lot of explanation on your part for him to understand how three words convey to you the depth of his devotion. The way he says ‘i love you’ isn’t through words (although he eventually does say so to make you happy) it’s through the way his gaze melts just a little bit when he sees you, it’s in the smile he gives no one but you, it’s in the way he’s willing to give up everything, just for you.

J: Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous)

When Sesshomaru gets jealous, it’s actually kind of serious. He doesn’t get jealous as he has no need to but seeing how Mukotsu stole you away from him and hearing how one of the thunder brothers tried to marry you made his blood boil with rage. If he hadn’t already disposed of Mukotsu he’d have made him die a slow death by Sesshomaru’s poison. Also, the fact that Inuyasha killed the thunder brothers is one of the few things he doesn’t begrudge his brother for.

K: Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Sesshomaru’s kisses are rough and demanding, even when he’s trying to be soft with you. Something in his nature that wants to assert dominance even in the tamest expressions of love. It’s not like you mind though, his kisses always leave you breathless and wanting more.

L: Little ones (How are they around children)

As evidenced by Rin (and kind of Kohaku), Sesshomaru is really good with kids. He’s just firm and uncaring enough to keep kids in line while still letting them play and explore. And deep, deep, deep down, he enjoys kids because of the almost naive outlook they have on the world, but he’d never admit that.

M: Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Mornings with Sesshomaru are really nice and pleasant...until you have to pee. At which point it becomes an almost wrestling contest against a clingy cuddly demon who still wants to be pressed against his mate until time forces you both to wake up. It doesn’t help either that you’re likely sore from the night before.

N: Night (How are nights spent with them?)

The SFW version of a night with Sesshomaru usually consists of you telling Rin (and a bitter Jaken) stories around the fire. Rin will probably help you put your hair up before you go to sleep and when the little ball of energy finally collapses, you tuck her in and kiss her forehead. Sesshomaru in the meanwhile, would watch all of this from a distance, his superior senses negating any need to be close anyways; plus he prefers to watch over all of you from afar before sneaking under the covers next to you while you’re asleep.

O: Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Sesshomaru doesn’t necessarily mean to shut you out he just reveals information on a need to know basis. In addition to that, most of his thoughts are carefully revealed through small subconscious reactions or expressions that take you a while to even pick up on, much less interpret. Eventually though, he does become open with you, you become the only person in the world that he trusts with the full breadth of his secrets and vulnerability.

P: Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s a 50/50 split. He can be patient when he wants to, but sometimes people are moving too slow for his liking and he starts to feel his hand twitch with the urge to use his claws. To get him angry to the point of it being visible on his face or even to the point that he shifts into his demon form is something few (namely Inuyasha and Kagome) are capable of. With you though, he does get a little impatient, especially at the beginning when you didn’t understand his grunting, but never fully enraged to the point of transforming.

Q: Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Sesshomaru remembers things about you like your scent, what makes you happy, what makes you mad, etc., all very basic information for him. He doesn’t really bother to remember things like anniversaries or birthdays just for the simple fact that his concept of time is completely different to yours. He doesn’t see the point in celebrating anniversaries (he manages by noticing the changes in your scent when yalls anniversary is approaching) and he finds it amusing that you celebrate his birthday, he hates celebrating yours though because it just reminds him that you’re human and each year is closer and closer to an eternity he’ll have to inevitably spend without you.

R: Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Sesshomaru’s favorite moment in your relationship was when Rin accidently likened you to a parental figure one day. You managed to keep it together, but the moment she got distracted you turned to him and just sobbed into the fluff of his tail. The memory still makes him laugh but you swore him to secrecy, and he fears ever so slightly what you’d do if he broke that vow.

S: Security (How protective are they? How would they like to be protected?)

Sesshomaru does all the physical protection in your relationship. He can sense danger better even when far away and has skills and senses that you really can’t compare to. Although, Sesshomaru never sees you as inferior to him, as long as you rub his head and shoo away Kagome whenever she tries to be too sisterly with him, he’s all good.

T: Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

As mentioned earlier, Sesshomaru, while he doesn’t care for anniversaries, definitely makes a big event out of showing his love to you. Although the two of you aren’t dating, you’re courting (or married), he still manages to make you feel like the most beautiful person on Earth when he takes you out. If your date isn’t a private personal affair, he’s making a big show of it. Everyone in the land will know that you are his and that you are incredible in every way (basically multiple feasts/parties held in your honor).

U: Ugly (What are some bad habits of theirs? (I’m gonna add arguments here because they aren’t on the prompt list I found))

A bad habit of Sesshomaru’s is his impatience. He can be patient, but it’s mostly a façade, one in place to maintain his cool, unbothered persona. Truth is, many things bother him and he tends to just bottle it up and let it build until it boils over. Now, he may snap at you, but it’s most likely that he’ll walk away to go hack at a tree and not speak to you for a while. This leads to his second bad habit, his aloofness. While Sesshomaru is always aloof, it’s not usually a bad thing. But if he gets into one of his moods and you push and push and push, it will cause an argument.

V: Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Sesshomaru isn’t concerned with his looks, he always looks flawless.

W: Worry (changed bcus I don’t like how the original frames relationships)

Sesshomaru does worry about you a lot. He tries not to say anything or let it bother him but it seems like every second he’s reminded of your human fragility. One day for trip over a tree root, the next you poke your finger sewing Rin’s clothes, and just one after another until your damned birthday comes around again and he’s reminded of the fact that you’ll get old much faster than he will. Needless to say, he worries about you a lot.

X: (E)xes (Any previous relationship experience. How does that factor into your current relationship?)

He has some previous relationship experience, mostly from matches his mom set up or random hookups. You’re most likely his first and only serious relationship.

Y: Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner)

He thinks people who seek to gain power/get ahead through frivolous means to be some of the most distasteful scum of the Earth. Aside from that he doesn’t really dislike anyone, aside from humans, or half-demons, or other demons, or anyone weaker than him, or... we could be here all day, but he pretty much only likes you, Ah-Un, Rin, Kohaku, and sometimes Jaken

Z: Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Sesshomaru has never really had to sleep in a bed proper before you so he can just kinda fall asleep anywhere and be perfectly fine. His other skills include sleeping while standing and sleeping with his eyes open.

#sesshomaru x reader #sesshomaru imagines #inuyasha imagines #inuyasha x reader #x black reader #black!reader #sfw alpahbet #sesshomaru imagine #idontblushsrry

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years ago

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request from @allthewhumpygoodness

✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared

A stumbles through their doorway in a daze, wet coughs rattling their chest. The tickle in their throat had evolved to an awful, sandpaper feeling that afternoon, and their head was pounding with every step they took.

With trembling fingers, they pull out their phone and shoot a text to B: lol guess who’s sick again

B's reply pings back: let me guess - you? ;)

This was their third cold this fall - their immune system sucked. The first two times, they’d toughed it out alone - dragging themselves to the kitchen to microwave canned soup, choking down medicine, burying themselves under blankets. They’d nursed themselves back to health in a couple days, certain that no one had even seen that they’d been gone.

But B noticed their most recent bout, and brought them extra tissues, a box of ginger tea, and a sympathetic half-smile the day A came back to work. A had gratefully accepted the gift but waved off the concern, assuring them that while they appreciated the gesture, they really were fine.

Still….this time, they figured it couldn’t hurt to let someone know. Just in case they wanted to check in on them. Feel their forehead and brush away the damp hair. Bring them medicine and warm tea to soothe their raw throat. Tuck an extra blanket around them when the chills hit.

Stop being so needy, you wimp. No one has time to look after you.

A shiver shakes their body, and they cough again, rousing themselves out of their longing pity party. No one was coming to save them. And it was okay. Really. They had taken care of themselves before, and they could do it again. A hot shower and a day or two of rest, and they’d be good as new.

They shed their work clothes and step into the the shower, huddling as the frigid air of the bathroom melds with the warm steam. Even after 30 minutes in scalding water, the low-grade chill still won't leave their bones. So they dry off, wrap up in a blanket, and prepare to ride it out.

By that evening, it’s clear that this is not just a cold. They’re huddled under three blankets in bed, their aching head burning with fever, and every joint feels like it’s on fire. Their throat is hoarse from near-constant coughing deep within their chest. A licks their parched lips, weighing whether they have enough energy to drag themselves out from under the covers for a cup of water. And they're still freezing, so deeply cold that it feels like their entire body is made from ice.

Not even a the idea of a hot shower can persuade them to stand up, and A settles for curling into the fetal position, hugging themselves. Still, they shake, unable to get warm enough. They sniffle weakly, feeling stupid and helpless and so, so weak, barely able to lift their head. They need warmth, water, medicine, a hand to hold –

No, this wasn’t a cold at all. This was bad.

Suddenly, after hours of chills, a welcome rush of heat floods their body, and they kick the covers off the bed. The sweat soaks their sheets as they sprawl out, momentarily grateful for the feeling of any kind of warmth. The oppressive heat knocks them into a thin sleep, and they let their eyelids flutter shut.

They're in their room, lying on their bed and unable to move, tied down by some immovable force. In the corner of the room, a shadowed figure stands, holding a candle close to their chest. A tries to call out to them, but they stand in the shadows and refuse to come any closer. In the corner of the room, they touch the flame to a pile of papers, and A's room erupts into a blaze.

The room spins and bends, and soon A is hearing the walls whisper and laugh and scream and warp as they curl and melt to the ground. Panicked tears stream down their face, pooling on the pillow as twisted images hurtle through their delirious mind, smoke flooding their lungs, flames licking at the foot of their bed. They’re utterly terrified, locked in place by their aching body. It's coming closer now, and they're screaming with all they've got, but no sound comes out. The dark figure comes closer, closer, reaching a hand toward them, and they beg their body to move one last time –

“A. C'mon now, A. Wake up. It's just a dream. Please, wake up.”

A tenses as they blink awake, their heart racing as the dark something shakes their shoulder. Panic sets in, and they twist away, a surge of adrenaline causing them to shoot up and press against the wall behind their bed. "Get away! Go! It's burning!"

"A, it's me, B. It's just me." The soft lamplight smooths the foreboding edges of the figure, and A can see them bending closer, their quiet voice laced with urgency. A still can't speak, fear gripping their voice and holding it hostage, their heartbeat pounding in their chest.

“I called you a couple hours ago to see if you needed anything. But you didn’t answer, and I got worried.” B comes in and out of focus, and A can see the furrowed line between their eyebrows, the soft compassion in their eyes as they cautiously sit at the edge of the bed. B bites their lip as they gently lay their cool hand over A’s feverish forehead. "A, you’re burning up."

A’s breathing slows, and they wrap their arms back around themselves, leaning into B’s touch. B strokes their hair and keeps their hand pressed to A’s forehead. The sweetness of the gesture cracks something open in A, and a sob slips out.

“A,” B starts, hesitantly, “who’s looking after you?”

With that single question, all pride leaves A and they swallow hard as a rush of loneliness overwhelms them. “There’s…no one. You’re the only one.” The chills are back now, freezing the sweat on their skin and rattling their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. A whispers a soft, pitiful plea as they hold out a single trembling arm to B: “C-could you hand me a b-blanket? Please? I’m c-cold.”

A expects B to toss the blanket their way. Instead, B gently wraps it around their shoulders and gathers the shivering, sweat-soaked bundle of a human in their arms, enveloping them in the warmth that only another person can provide. It’s then that A truly lets themselves fall apart.

The next couple hours are a blur. When the fever spikes B is there, adding blankets and holding A in their arms to ease the shakes and warm their frozen bones. When A can hardly speak because their throat is shot from coughing, B miraculously procures honey lemon tea to soothe it and props them up to help them sip it. When the nightmares come back, B is there to shush their sobs and rub their back, encouraging them to breath through the hacking and coughing.

A still feels awful. But having B here...it's made it better. So much better. Every time they wake up, B is there. And they're scared of waking up the next morning with B gone and having to fend for themselves alone the next day. But exhaustion steals the worry away, and they fall asleep before they can timidly ask B to stay.

When they wake up, they're enveloped in warm, solid arms, and it takes a moment to register the unusual feeling. They nestle closer towards the warmth before it hits them that no, this is not how they usually wake up. Tilting their head up, they see B, blanket half over their shoulders, holding them, eyes heavy with sleep. They're still here?

B sees A staring down at them, and gives them a small smile.

"That was a rough one. Think you can handle a little soup this morning?"

A can’t answer the question, because they’re still thinking about a different one. “You stayed all night?”

B shrugged a nonchalant shoulder. “‘Course I stayed. Wasn’t going to let you fight off those monsters all alone, was I?”

A tells themselves the sudden lump in their throat is just a byproduct of their flu, and clears their throat. “I…thank you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“A, trust me. I wanted to do it.” They brush back A’s damp hair and squeeze them, and A feels like they’ve melted into a puddle. This is all they’ve ever wanted when they were sick - no, it’s more than they could have asked for. They shift and snuggle closer, eyes drifting shut again, hand finding B’s fingers.

“5 more minutes,” they mumble contentedly. “Then let’s talk about soup.”

#sickfic #sickfic prompt #fever whump #fever prompt #whump prompt #fever #caretaking #hurt comfort #illness #my writing #soft whump #this got out of hand #thanks for the amazing prompt!!!#also realized I did both halves of it?? XD

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eponymous-rose · 4 years ago

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A Critical Role Campaign 2 Mechanics Primer

Got a request from a new Critical Role viewer for some clarification re: rules and characters, and dang, yes, there’s so much stuff to deal with as a new viewer at the moment. So here’s an attempt at clarifying some stuff!

How does D&D work?

Fundamentally, one person (the DM) sets the scene and the players riff off that scene by acting out what their characters would do in response. Whenever a player’s actions would lead to an uncertain result, the DM can call for them to roll a die and try to hit a predetermined target number to see if they succeed. The players’ individual characters have abilities that boost certain categories of rolls and penalize others; a very strong character is more likely than a scrawny one to be able to open a jammed door, but they could still have an unlucky roll. It’s the DM’s job to incorporate the sometimes-absurd results of those die rolls into a coherent story.

Combat is the most “gamey” D&D gets, where everyone has a turn set aside to act (with an order determined by the “initiative” roll that starts combat). This is where character classes come in handy: magic-users cast spells, fighters jump in with their weapons of choice, and so forth. Each character has a set of hit points, and once those reach zero, the character is unconscious and possibly dying. But combat ain’t just hack-and-slash: there can be conversation, strategy, manipulation, collaboration, and all sorts of weird subtleties going on. Fundamentally, players’ actions are limited only by their imaginations.

It can be super weird getting into a D&D show even if you have played a bit because everyone plays the game a bit differently. Critical Role’s gameplay leans hard into roleplaying and character beats (there are episodes with basically no dice rolls) but also leans hard enough into the rules that a random bad or good roll can completely derail the story; rolls aren’t fudged or handwaved for the sake of a predetermined narrative, which means nobody playing (including the DM) knows how things are going to end up. This makes for a viewing experience that is a cross between dramedy improv and live sports; the cast plays out long scenes of conversation, but their characters could also permanently die at any time, adding to the high stakes. It’s also totally unedited, which accounts for the absurdly long runtime.

If any of that isn’t for you, there are a lot of great D&D podcasts out there (often labeled “actual play”) that run the gamut from silly with minimal rules to mechanically involved but edited down. It’s a cool time to get into D&D!

Okay, so how exactly do these characters do their thing?

One of the more confusing aspects for new viewers of the second campaign of Critical Role is that they’re using a fair amount of content that’s not in the baseline ruleset - some character races and classes are coming from expansion content, and some are from Matt Mercer (the DM’s) homebrew. Here’s a quick summary of what each character has going on at the start of the campaign, moving from left to right in the first episode’s seating arrangement.

Fjord (played by Travis Willingham)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Travis is the big guy who looks like he could throw a football real far. If you’re listening to the podcast, his character voice has a Texas twang.

Fjord is a half-orc warlock. A half-orc typically has green skin and tusks but otherwise looks fairly close to a garden-variety human. Warlocks are magic-users who gained their abilities from a bargain with a mysterious (generally somewhat malevolent) being of great power. Mechanically, they rely a lot on what are called cantrips (spells that can be cast an unlimited number of times a day) since the number of more powerful spells at their disposal is very limited. However, unlike most other casters that have to get a full night’s sleep to regain their stronger spells, warlocks just have to rest for an hour or so and they’re good to go. More specifically, Fjord is a hexblade warlock. Hexblades are warlocks who have a particularly strong bond with their weapon of choice and can summon it from nothing.

Beauregard (played by Marisha Ray)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Marisha is the woman who often perches on her chair like she’s about to take flight. If you’re listening to the podcast, her character voice is a bit gruff with a sarcastic drawl.

Beau is a human monk. Both humans in this campaign use a variant version of human that allows them to pick a feat at the start of the campaign: Beau has some extra expertise in investigative and athletic abilities. Monks are preternaturally powerful martial artists; what some classes do with magic, they do with unarmed combat. Mechanically, they rely on an ability called ki points, which are a stockpile of points that can be used for extra-powerful abilities such as being able to hit extra times on an attack or being able to stun an enemy. More specifically, Beau is a Way of the Cobalt Soul monk, which is a homebrew from Matt and means she’s essentially a warrior-monk-librarian whose key abilities center around rooting out useful information.

Caleb (played by Liam O’Brien)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Liam is the guy who perpetually looks like he’s about to launch into a Shakespearean monologue. If you’re listening to the podcast, his character voice is soft with a German accent.

Caleb is a human wizard. His variant human feat gives him an eidetic memory and the ability to always know what time it is. Wizards are magic-users who got to where they are with careful study; Caleb has to keep track of his spells by transcribing them into a spellbook. He also has a familiar in the form of the cat Frumpkin, although Frumpkin can also change forms. Mechanically, wizards can pick up spells from a lot of different sources to learn them, but again, the cost in time and materials of transcribing them into a spellbook can be substantial. More specifically, Caleb is a transmutation wizard, which means his wizardry focuses around the act of transforming one thing into another.

Nott (played by Sam Riegel)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Sam is the guy with an alarmingly big smile and a comically oversized flask. If you’re listening to the podcast, his character voice is high-pitched with varying levels of Cockney accent.

Nott is a goblin rogue. Goblins are small and quick, and may or may not be well-received depending on the location. Rogues are sneaky individuals who do best when striking from the shadows or scouting ahead to investigate potential traps and unlock doors. Mechanically, they get a huge bonus in combat if they attack when unseen or when an opponent is distracted by an ally. They’re also very good at avoiding attacks and at hiding from view. More specifically, Nott is an arcane trickster rogue, which means she also dabbles in magic related to illusions and enchantment.

Jester (played by Laura Bailey)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Laura is the one who may or may not be instigating every round of giggles at accidental innuendo. If you’re listening to the podcast, her character voice is bubbly with an Eastern European accent.

Jester is a tiefling cleric. Tieflings essentially look like brightly-colored humans (Jester has blue skin) with horns and a tail; they’re the result of infernal ancestry and also may or may not be well-received. Clerics are magic-users who derive their power from the blessing of a deity or other extremely powerful entity. Jester’s divine patron is the Traveler, a mysterious trickster with an affinity for phallic graffiti. Mechanically, clerics have a massive stable of spells from which they can choose a subset every morning; their abilities range from healing wounds to causing devastating harm. More specifically, Jester is a trickery domain cleric, which means her spells have a strong focus on illusions and pranks.

Mollymauk (played by Taliesin Jaffe)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Taliesin is the one who looks like he may be some sort of ancient fey creature who’s come to our realm to play D&D. If you’re listening to the podcast, his character voice has an Irish accent of varying intensity.

Molly is a tiefling blood hunter with purple skin. Blood hunters are a custom class Matt created that can use their own blood (in a process called hemocraft) to augment their combat abilities. Mechanically, blood hunters are high-risk high-reward; they can perform devastatingly brutal attacks, but often only at the cost of shedding some of their own blood to do so. More specifically, Molly is an Order of the Ghostslayer blood hunter, which means he’s got an affinity for things relating to the moment of death.

Yasha (played by Ashley Johnson)

If you’re watching the show in video form, Ashley is the one who isn’t around for a little bit (she was splitting her time with a TV show on the opposite coast) and then SHE’S BACK AND I’M STILL SO HAPPY ABOUT THAT. If you’re listening to the podcast, her character voice is soft with a faint Scandinavian accent.

Yasha is an aasimar barbarian. Aasimar are the semi-divine counterpart to tieflings, although Yasha is a fallen aasimar with a fairly different aesthetic. Barbarians use their rage to enhance their already fierce battle prowess. Mechanically, barbarians in a rage take less damage and deal more damage, and also embrace a high-risk high-reward playstyle as tanks in the middle of the fray. More specifically, Yasha is a Path of the Zealot barbarian, which means her battle rages are fueled by the influence of a divine being.

Interested in watching from the start of campaign 2? The show has a YouTube channel with each episode posted in its entirety, and all episodes are also available in podcast form (they did jump channels partway through, but you can usually find a playlist that has them all). If you want to delve into campaign 1, I highly recommend it, but be aware that they’re still figuring out tech stuff and you’re also jumping in partway through the game they started years earlier at home. Campaign 2 starts 20 years after campaign 1 on a different continent of the same world, and is intended to be an appropriate jumping-on point for new viewers.

Interested in catching up faster so you can watch live with friends? Search Critical Recap for a series of recap videos on YouTube, which then becomes a series of written summaries on the CritRole website after episode 88. There are also great summaries on the Wiki, and many people have put together catch-up guides for new viewers.

There’s A LOT of content out there. Don’t let anyone make you feel bad for skimming the early stuff if you want to get in on the new episodes sooner. <3

Episodes air at 7 PM Pacific every Thursday on Critical Role’s Twitch and YouTube channels; the VOD goes up for free on YouTube the Monday after. In the last few months, the cast has been distanced at the studio (all on separate cameras) and episodes have been pre-recorded several weeks in advance; normally, the show is streamed live and everyone is around the same table.

Hope that helps! If you have any questions, let me know. This is a fun show to get into, and a great all-consuming massive body of entertainment if you have the time for it.

#critical role #eponymous reference tag #long text post

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yoonsshadow · 4 years ago

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ETERNAL - v

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations

➳ word count ; 3k

➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!

masterlist

Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.

Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.

The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.

Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.

“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”

You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.

“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”

“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”

“You calling me Rome?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Not really.”

So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.

Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done.

“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”

Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.

“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”

His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.

With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.

Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.

Ah. There is the awaited ripple.

Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”

Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”

You nod. All of this you were already aware of.

“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”

“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”

“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.

“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”

Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”

Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”

You’ll have to file that away for later.

Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”

“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”

“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”

“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”

All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.

“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.

Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”

“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”

“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”

Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”

“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”

“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.

“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”

You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet...

“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”

“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt.

“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.

Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.

Except. Well, maybe there is.

“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?

You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.

“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”

“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”

“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”

You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.

“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”

“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”

Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”

“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”

You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.

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tags: @leafyturtle, @loveyoongles, @paint-music-with-me, @barbikatherine, @itsmorgo1604, @calling-dips-on-j-hope, @veronawrites, @applepie1000, @yoonchrisgullwrites, @ally22042000, @ireallylikefoodandyoutube, @blglmgk01, @basicgukk, @softescapism, @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered, @m1nt-3lla, @hunnayesblog, @rosycheekb, @hemmofluke, @the-bisaster, @katbonv, @borahebangtan, @monodroppp, @skyys-universe

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sunlight-moonrise · 5 years ago

Text

The Price (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Reader is a technical analyst for the BAU. She did not expect to be smitten by the resident genius.

A/N: This is my first time writing a fic as well as my first time writing smut. I’d like to thank @spencer-reid-in-a-pool for beta reading my work (you’re a gem and I’ll fight for you). Also a quick thank you to @imagining-in-the-margins and those in the discord for being so welcoming and helping me with this. The fic is inspired by @erin-bo-berin Sweet Cheeks.

Category: Fluff and Smut

Content Warnings: Oral (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, rough sex

Word Count: 6.0K

Masterlist

There are a lot of things I enjoy about this job. The salary is decent. My coworkers are pretty cool. I get to interact with a sexy genius from time to time- you know, the usual that comes with being employed by the government.

I started as a technical analyst for the BAU a few months prior, working alongside the one and only Penelope Garcia with assisting the rest of the team behind some computer screens. Coding and hacking is second nature to me so the job is not too difficult. It was either this or facing some years in jail because I couldn’t cover my tracks fast enough. Looking at mangled and mutilated bodies on a weekly basis is better than prison.

I get along rather well with the team. I pretty much call everyone by a term of endearment, much to Garcia’s delight. It was one of the things we had in common and helped us get along with one another much faster. I sometimes can get carried away with the innuendos, but Garcia welcomes everything I say with open arms.

I typically save my more sensual remarks for the doctor. I remember the good old days when he used to be so tongue-tied by my actions. Now my words barely surprises him.

A voice broke my concentration. “What got you thinking so hard, angel?” I turn towards the person, a smile already adorning my face. Lo and behold, Dr. Spencer Reid has graced me with his delectable presence.

“Would you believe me if I said that I was thinking of you Doc?” He had a small smile on his face. I could pretty much categorize all the smiles he uses because of how often I stare at him. I mean, it is a tragedy to not stare at such beauty. This particular smile means that he is content and comfortable.

“May I ask exactly what it was that you were thinking about?” he asked.

“I cannot share the sordid details of my mind with you just yet darling. You’ll just have to use that beautiful mind of yours and conjure up something imaginative.”

He let out a small laugh and helped me carry the files I was juggling. My eyes immediately went to his hands. The things I’ll let those hands do to me. I bet only one is needed to perfectly wrap around my -- No bitch, focus. We got a case to present in five minutes. Right, right. Work now, daydream later.

We entered the conference room, where the rest of the team was already sitting at the round table, waiting for us. I gave out the files with Spencer’s help while Penelope started up the monitor.

“You guys are staying local but time is of the essence” she informed us. The TV lit up with four pictures of young boys. “We have a kidnapping case at Stafford County.”

“Were they kidnapped at the same time or place?” asked JJ as she skimmed over the report I handed out earlier.

“No” I said as I pointed to the two younger boys on the screen. “Jacob Rivers and David Hall were taken from their respective homes 48 hours ago” I then pointed to the two slightly older boys “Benjamin Harris was taken 12 hours ago at a park and Scott Turner was taken from the mall less than 6 hours ago.”

“Do these boys have anything in common?” Morgan asked out loud.

“Other than physical appearance and age group, these boys don’t have any similarities. They didn’t even go to the same school. As a matter of fact, David Hall was home-schooled.” replied Garcia.

“Garcia and I couldn’t find any common ground in the families’ educational, economic, or social backgrounds either” I added. “Once you guys take off, we’ll do a further dive into their personal histories.”

“The UnSub is already escalating, kidnapping from a private home and kidnapping from a crowded area within hours of each event is fairly drastic” Rossi stated.

“Maybe the Unsub is on a time frame? They could be feeling pressured and desperate” Emily questioned, trying to come up with some kind of initial profile.

Hotch already started standing up. “We’ll know more after analyzing the crime scenes and talking to local PD. Let’s head out.” The rest of the team followed, gathering their files and making an exit towards the door while Garcia headed for our office. Spencer lagged behind a bit and I already knew why. We have a little tradition of bidding farewell to one another before he takes off for a case.

I stood next to him, bumping my shoulder against his upper arm. “Don’t miss me too much while you are out there.”

“The more you remind me I have to leave, the more I want to stay here.” he grinned.

I snorted at his words, knowing that he was full of shit. There is nothing more that Reid loves than being out in the field. “Go be a hero and come back to me in one piece pretty boy.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he replied as he went to follow the team towards the elevator.

I swear that boy is immune to my teasing now. I miss seeing his face become flush, but I also enjoy the playful repartee we have now. I remember the first interaction I had with Spencer quite vividly. It truly was a comical moment.

“Everyone this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She will be working alongside Garcia.” Hotch stated as he introduced me to the team. I have already met him and Penelope prior to being presented to everyone else.

“Derek Morgan, pleasure to meet you.” Whoa. If tall, dark, and handsome was a person, Morgan would be fit for the role. He offered his hand, which I immediately took.

“The pleasure is all mine” I replied with a wide smile.

I directed my attention to a much older gentleman. “David Rossi” said the Italian man who reminded me of a mob boss.

“Charmed to meet you.” I shook his hand, surprised by the strength behind it. Those older bones are still working for him.

Next came the petite blonde, whose figure I was both envious and enamored with. “Jennifer Jareau, but everyone here calls me JJ for short.”

“In that case, please call me (Y/N/N).” I shook her hand, and became even more envious with how soft her skin was. She has got to tell me her secrets.

I focused on the brunette with shoulder-length hair. “Emily Prentiss”. My God, I think being attractive is a requirement for this team. She offered her hand to shake and her grip was firm. Note to self, forget about Rossi; don’t get on Emily’s bad side.

“Nice to meet you.”

I turned to the final individual and was blown away by his beauty. Yup, my previous thought has been confirmed. Only good-looking people are allowed pass these doors. His bone structure looked like it was sculpted by Roman artists. His body was lean and slender, reminding me of a runner’s physique. My eyes stared up to the softest hazel eyes I have ever seen.

“Dr. Spencer Reid.” he introduced. I offered my hand immediately, wanting to feel his skin against mine.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), but you already knew that,” I said softly, my hand still out. He just stared at it as if it was an anomaly.

“Uh-the amount of pathogens passed through a handshake is astounding. A high five transmit half the number. But even then, a kiss is much more safe.” he quickly stated as he nodded his head. I almost didn’t catch any of it. Partially because of the rapid speech, partially because I was staring at his lips.

“Hmm, that’s news to me. However, if a kiss is what you want…” I lowered my hand and took a step closer to him. My eyes slowly moved from his eyes to his mouth and then back up. He took a slight step back.

“N-N-No, that’s not—I-I mean that —uhh...” His face was flushed and his tongue shot out to run against his lips. His eyes quickly darted across the room, seeking some help. I felt a sense of pride knowing I made this man flustered.

“I’m just teasing Doc.” If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was frightened by me. Maybe he was, but the blush on his face and the way he kept staring gave me further information on him.

“Don’t mind Reid,” Morgan said, coming to the young man’s rescue. “He has a thing with germs.” He finished, a smirk plastered on his face. Well, I hope he soon develops a thing for something else. Or rather someone else.

I was just about to make another sly comment when Hotch interrupted. “Back to the case at hand.” He gave us all a pointed look. Right, I am at my first day at work. I’ll focus on hot doctors with hotter smiles and the hottest face at my own time.

“Yes sir,” Garcia stated, as she started pushing buttons on a remote. The TV turned on and pictures of three different women showed up on the screen. They all looked to be strangled to death. “You guys are needed in Toledo, Ohio.” Garcia goes on to describe the case while the team starts the early stages of conducting a profile.

“Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says and the everyone disperses. Garcia walked up to me and handed me some documents from the case file.

“C’mon cupcake, we gotta do some preliminary work to get the case going much faster.” I followed her to what she called the “bat cave”. I scanned the small room and immediately fell in love. Computers and monitors littered almost every inch of the place. I saw a lot of colorful knickknacks displayed on one side of the desk, knowing already who they belonged to. The area was endearing and had a cozy feel to it.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. This place is a dream come true.” I am sure she can hear the awe in my voice.

“I know, right. Wait until you actually use it girlie, the framework on these things is out of this world.” I sat myself on a chair nearby and rolled in front of a screen.

“Alrighty. You can do some background checks on these girls while I gather more information from the police reports. Let me know if there are any commonalities among any of them. We’ll relay that info with the team.”

“Gotcha babe, I’ll have the information ready ASAP.” I responded, already typing away on the computer. I’m already starting to like it here.

*Later that day*

Garcia and I haven’t found much in common between the victims of the crimes, much to our dismay. I was left in the office to continue searching for important information on the girls while she went to fax some data to the precinct when the phone started to ring.

I quickly answered and put it on speaker. “(Y/L/N) at your humble service. How may I serve you?”

“Oh-uh is Garcia around” replied a high-pitched voice, which I immediately recognized as Reid. I don’t know whether or not I should be insulted that he wanted Penelope or pleased that I probably still have him flustered.

“She’s a bit pre-occupied at the moment. But rest assured I can find whatever you need Doc. Especially if you ask nicely.”

“Uh-I need you to pull up information on the mothers. We think they were all in the same sorority, however not necessarily at the same time. We need a list of all the members of the sorority from the time the mothers joined with a 3-year pre- and post-graduation.”

“No problemo sweetness. Anything else I can do for you? I have a lot of other services that can be helpful.” I stated, a teasing tone in my voice as I already set up my search.

“No-no, that’s all. Um thanks.” I can already picture the blush coating his cheeks as he stammered his response.

“Alright love, call me back if you need anything. Or if you change your mind.” I hung up the phone and started organizing the list in front of me.

And from then on, I have enjoyed pretty much all the moments I had with the BAU. It took some time, but Spencer now has accepted and even returned my little flirtations. We often get compared to Garcia and Morgan. But with a lot more sexual tension, at least on my end. I have to remind myself from time to time to calm down before I combust in the middle of a conference room or the bullpen. C'est la vie.

I made my way to the cavern of all things amazing and settled in front of my computers. Pen looked at me with a knowing expression on her face. “You’re gloomy.”

I pouted as I put my earpiece on. “I am not gloomy, I am horny,” I rebuked.

“How long has it been since you got some?”

“I’m not sure but it feels like I have not gotten any since the Stone Age,” I groaned out.

“I don’t know why you don’t just tell him how you feel,” she pointed her pink glittery pen in my direction, “I bet he would fuck you right here if you let him.”

And there goes my thought process, as always, overtaken by Spencer Reid. “Babe, please. This is not helping my situation.”

“Just telling you how it is.”

●●●

We have been sitting in front of these screens for hours. The team has made some progress but they’re missing an important piece to fit the puzzle. Garcia has been looking into the background of the neighbors when I heard a small stomach grumble coming from her direction. I let out a laugh as she huffed out “I am going to grab a snack from the breakroom, you want anything boo?”

“If it ain’t alcohol or chocolate, I don’t want it.”

“Noted,” she said as she left the room. I really hope she finds a couple of cupcakes or something.

I continued trying to get information on these missing kids when my headpiece played the Doctor Who theme song, informing me that Einstein was calling in. “Goddess of knowledge and wisdom at your disposal.”

“I didn’t know I had Athena at my fingertips.” How is it possible that nine words have short-circuited my brain just now? Is it the voice or the way he basically called me a Greek Deity? Probably both.

Of course I slyly responded, “Oh my Hephaestus, you have all of me at your fingertips.” I heard a chuckle and I immediately knew it belonged to Morgan. A slight blush crept onto my cheeks when I heard a random voice asking why Spencer called his girlfriend in the middle of a case.

“I should have mentioned that you were on speakerphone.”

“Naughty boy, you know I charge extra for groups.” Now this was followed by some choked out noises and a bunch of giggles. I could only assume the whole precinct was amused by my antics at this point.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“I can, for a price.”

“A price?”

“Yes, a price that I would inform you of in private. Now the reason for your call…” I drew out. Thank goodness Garcia wasn’t here. I don’t need her looking at me as if I am a phone sex operator.

“I need you to check foster children between the ages of four and eight within a 25-mile radius. We are looking for a homosexual couple that were looking to adopt but were rejected. The names should be on multiple applications among different sites. Let me know what you find.”

“I’ll have that information at the palm of your hands soon” Meanwhile, I am over here wishing that I was at the palm of his hands.

“Thank you, my Goddess” I can’t help but smile when he says things like this. Since when were the roles reversed in our friendship?

“Anything for a gorgeous worshipper. TTYL.”

Garcia chose that moment to walk back in while I had this silly grin on my face. She stared at me and I already knew what she was going to say.

“If you don’t have a piece of chocolate or a cocktail on you, I am not talking.”

All she did was laugh at me.

●●●

The team was able to find all four boys safely. The UnSubs were a male couple who wanted to adopt but kept facing discrimination against the agencies. It is a shame that they felt they had to resort to kidnapping in order to have a family.

Now Garcia and I are scanning the notes the team faxed to us earlier today. They informed us that they would be back here in half an hour or so.

“Shoot, I didn’t think it would take this long to scan these damn files.” Garcia murmured. I looked over at her and saw a small stack of documents that still needed to be put into the system.

I walked over and grabbed the pile from her. “Go, I’ll take care of it from here doll.”

“Are you sure? I feel bad. You did your portion of the work already.”

“Don’t you have to be at the rehearsal in 20 minutes? How is the theater going to operate without their main lead?” I placed the documents on my side of the desk and moved to gather Garcia’s belongings. I picked up her purse and jacket before handing it to her, quickly pushing her towards the door. “I got this, think of it as an IOU.”

“Yes, yes, yes, I owe you big. Thank you sugar, see you tomorrow.” Garcia hurriedly exited the door and headed towards the elevator.

I looked towards the papers, a low groan leaving my mouth. The faster I go through this, the better.

●●●

I was just finished implementing all the documents into the computer when I heard a knock at the door. I turned around and saw Spencer’s head peeking through. “Evening handsome, to what do I owe this visit?”

“Garcia passed by me a while ago and informed me you were in here finishing some extra work. I wanted to check on you; see if you needed my help.”

“Thanks Doc, but you’re a few minutes too late. I already finished scanning the files. Besides, you’re not the best with technology, much less these computers.”

“Maybe not. But I am a fast learner and I pay close attention to detail.” Either my ears were playing a trick on me or Spencer’s voice lowered an octave or two.

I remembered what Penelope said earlier today and decided to just go for it. “I could collect on that price from earlier.” I leaned against the desk and stared into his eyes. C’mon Doc, pick up the hint. Rather, pick me up instead.

“Well I was thinking that I can get you dinner.” he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

That’s great, but not what I had in mind. “I was hoping for something else” I looked into his eyes, then slowly trailed my eyes downwards. Kiss me. Kiss me. Touch me. Lick me. Fuck me. Kiss me.

Unfortunately, Spencer is not a mind reader. He lowered his head and looked slightly dejected. “Oh well umm—would you prefer to go to a theater?” Oh Doc, you sexy, naïve, intelligent, innocent man. I guess if you want something you have to do it yourself.

I sat on the edge of my desk. “Come here Spencer.”

His head perked up, slightly intrigued since I rarely call him by his name. He walked to where I was sitting but there was still space between us.

“Closer, I don’t bite.” Unless you want me to.

He moved closer to me and I was able to rest my hands on his shoulders. Thankfully the height of the table let us be more at level with one another.

I made sure to look into his eyes as I said “I am going to kiss you. If that isn’t something you want, tell me now.”

He was speechless. His mouth was moving but no sounds came out. If the circumstances were different I would have appreciated seeing his rattled expression once more. I waited a few seconds, but he still has yet to say anything.

“Spen-mmh” before I knew it, his mouth was upon mine. He gently cradled my face as his lips moved against my own. My eyes closed as I felt nothing but bliss. As cliché as it sounds, I was in paradise because of this kiss alone.

His tongue peeked and swiped against my lower lip, trying to have a taste of me. I was more than happy to grant him entrance, a moan leaving my body as his tongue touched mine.

All parts of me were trying to feel him. I had one hand in his hair while the other grabbed onto the back of his shirt. My chest was pressed against his while my legs lazily wrapped around his midsection. His scent was intoxicating to me. It was a coffee-like smell as if he just walked out of a café. He tasted so sweet, all I wanted to do was keep his mouth on mine. But my body needed air so I slowly pulled away.

He tried to catch his breath as his forehead rested against mine. “So you don’t want dinner?”

“Doc the only thing I am hungry for right now is you. We’ll get food afterward, alright?” Spencer nodded his head while licking his lips. My eyes hungrily followed the action and I just had to get another taste. I pulled him towards me, his hands once again holding onto my face. He was much more dominant with this kiss, and I was more than willing to give him the control. His hands then trailed down to my hips and pulled me closer to his pelvis. I jerked against him and was rewarded with a groan.

He squeezed me tighter as his lips broke away from mine once more. He placed a peck on my lips, then my cheek before trailing down my neck. I felt my body heat up as I released a small moan. Fucking hell, he is going to be the death of me and we barely did anything.

Spencer started to lightly nibble on my neck when I pulled him back by his hair. “It is summer and I am not wearing a turtleneck in 80° weather. If you’re gonna give me some hickeys, they better be on my chest.” He murmured something that I couldn’t quite comprehend before undoing the buttons of my blouse.

Hell, I am not the only one who is gonna be undressed so I started unbuttoning his dress shirt as well. It was a race to see who would get the other’s shirt off first. Of course I lost because my hands wouldn’t stop shaking. But when his warm lips kissed their way towards the middle of my cleavage, I felt like a fucking champion.

I tried my best to shimmy out of the sleeves of my blouse while Spencer attempted to take my bra off, his lips still leaving a love mark against my chest. Once we got rid of the shirt and the bra, his mouth immediately enveloped one of my nipples.

“Fuck” I yelped loudly, “a little warning next time Doc.”

“Sorry” he muttered as he continued to suck on my breast while palming the other between his dexterous fingers. That had to be the most insincere apology I have ever heard from him. An idea came across my head. I slowly removed his shirt, watching it pool on the floor. I then raked the nails of one hand across his chest while the other pulled against his hair. Hard. He retaliated by lightly biting my nipple. Fuck, the plan backfired. Abort mission, abort the damn mission.

Spencer let out a small chuckle as he pulled away from my breast, an audible pop leaving his mouth. My hands went to his face and I moved him up to look at me. His eyes were dilated and his mouth was swollen. His face was flush and he was taking deeper breaths than usual. He looked so beautiful like this.

He had a dorky smile on his face and I realized that I said the words out loud. I felt my face heat up fast and he swiftly commented “I’d never thought I’d see you be so thrown off because of me.”

He rested his hands against either side of the desk and just looked at me. “Shut up and kiss me.” I hissed, already missing the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” he asked. I was about to reply when he interrupted “Do you want me to kiss you on your lips? Or maybe you want me back on those beautiful breasts of yours?”

Have mercy on me, I never believed Spencer Reid could make me so wet just with his words. Sure, I thought of it, but I didn’t believe it would happen to me.

“Maybe you want me to go lower. Should I place my lips on that pussy of yours?” Oh my fuck, I never want this moment to end. I nodded my head so quickly, I could have sworn I given myself whiplash.

“I want to hear you say it,” he breathed out.

“Yes, yes, please. I want you to eat my pussy. Please.” I begged. Dignity be damned.

“That’s my good girl” How is it possible that he went from the dorky adorable doctor to this assertive, stimulating specimen in a matter of minutes? I didn’t think he had a sensual bone in his body. But I am glad to be proven wrong.

Spencer lowered himself to his knees while I clumsily attempted to rid myself of my skirt and panties. I lifted my lower body up as he pulled the clothing off of me. Penelope would have a field day if she knew that I was sitting butt naked on the desk with Spencer Reid between my legs. Hell, I am having a field day knowing this.

Spencer, being the teasing bastard that he has been for the past few minutes, started kissing my legs first. “That’s not where I said I wanted you to kiss me” I huffed out.

“Hush” was all he said as he continued the slow trail up, making sure to alternate between each leg. I was already breathing as if I have ran a marathon, my patience was waning at this point. Finally, he made his way to where I needed him most. He put his hands on my thighs and pushed them further apart.

My hands landed on top of his head, playing with the curls. “You’re comfortable down there Doc?” I snickered, loving the sight of his head between my legs. All he did was nip my inner thigh harshly. I shrieked at the action. I’m starting to think this man has a tiny biting fetish.

I wasn’t ready for when his tongue parted my folds. I squeaked as he teasingly lapped the arousal that had formed the second he walked into the room. I tried rolling my hips but his hands made me stay put on the desk. I never knew he could hold me down like this. I couldn’t even be mad because the pleasure he was giving me was incredible.

Spencer continued to tease me, his tongue never going where I needed it most. He made sure to explore as much as possible as leisurely as possible. “Spencer, please” I cried out. He let out a small hum, the vibration causing a shiver to rack my body.

His tongue finally entered me, much to my delight. No amount of imagination could have ever prepared me for the things this appendage can do to me. He continued this soft, flat movement that was driving me crazy. My hands tightened in his hair, hoping he would go a bit faster.

“You taste so good princess, I don’t want this to end.”

“That’s my Queen to you” I jested. He didn’t like that since he responded with a resounding smack against my outer thigh. Ouch, note to self, Spencer doesn’t like being teased during sexy times. Hmm. On second thought, continue to tease Spencer during sexy times.

I felt his finger probe my entrance, moving up and down before pushing inside of me. I let out a distressing whine as he started slowly moving his finger in and out of me, curling as he did so. His mouth was on my clit, sucking and kissing it as if he has done so all his life.

My body started heating up and trembling. I tried, and failed, to roll my hips against the movement. “Spe-Spencer” I wailed. He didn’t relent.

Spencer entered a second finger into me as his tongue gave small, flickering motions against my bundle of nerves. I had to move one hand to my mouth to prevent any loud noises from being heard outside the room. Shit, did we even lock the door?

That thought immediately left my mind as my core started to tighten. Spencer must have known that I was getting close to my orgasm because he moved his fingers more diligently within me. I felt his fingers curl as they pulled out, I felt his tongue lick thoroughly against my pearl, I felt my ecstasy rising within me. It took one more deep press of his fingers and a harsh suck for me to come all over his face. I bit down on my fingers as I moaned out loud.

“That was so much better then what I imagined” I panted out, the words barely coming out comprehensible. I had a giant smile decorating my face.

He pulled his face up, a smug grin gracing his face. “Is this what you were thinking about earlier this morning?” he taunted. I couldn’t even give him a smartass remark because I was too busy trying to come back to reality. He pulled his fingers out and held them in front of my face.

“Open” he ordered. I complied and he pushed his fingers inside of my mouth. “You look so pretty when you follow instructions well. See how good you taste.”

I pulled my head back, taking his fingers out of my mouth. “I bet I taste a lot better on that tongue of yours.”

He tangled his hand in my hair and pulled me to a kiss. I immediately opened and welcomed his tongue against mine. I was right, I do taste better on him. I let out a deep moan and pulled away far enough to gently bite down on his lower lip.

He looks at me, that devilish tongue of his running against his lower lip before entering my mouth once again. With his lips still on mine, he picked me up and move to sit on my desk chair. It was nothing short of a miracle that we managed not to fall on the floor.

I placed my hand on top of his erection through his slacks and he drew a quick intake of breath. I started palming him as I grinded myself against him. I pulled back as I whispered, “I need you, Spencer”.

“Y’know this is the most I have heard you call me by my name in any given moment we have been together.” He unzipped his slacks and pushed down his pants and boxers as much as he could with me on top of him.

I looked down, finally being able to see his cock. Is it possible to get aroused further through sight alone? Because I think I creamed myself again. God, I wish I could show him my oral skills, but we’ll save that for another time.

“Would you rather I call you by something else?” I asked, attempting to move my lower body so that it can align with his cock. I say attempt because Spencer currently had his hands on my thighs again.

“No, I like the way my name sounds as you moan it out. Don’t hide your pleasure from me this time.” He maneuvered my legs to rest upon the armrest on either side of the chair, leaving my pussy wide open for him.

I gave him an incredulous look. “Are you forgetting that we are at work?”

He started rubbing the tip of his cock against my lower lips. “I didn’t forget. I just don’t fucking care.” And with that, he slowly penetrated me.

We both groaned at the intrusion. He gradually started entering me as I adjusted to his size. Inch by inch, he gave me all of him until he was buried to the hilt. I took a moment to savor the feel of Spencer inside of me before I started grinding against him. He took that as a hint to begin thrusting.

He started slow, taking his time and having us enjoy the feeling of one another. “Your cunt is so fucking tight” he hissed into my ear and I gave out a loud whine.

“That’s because you have such a big cock, Doc” I managed to moan out. He smacked my ass before grabbing each cheek tightly in his hands. “I want you to call me by my name” he grits out.

“Spencer, baby please give it to me. I’ve been waiting for this Spencer, I’ve been waiting for you.” He started kissing my neck once more and my eyes started to closed. I wanted to focus on the pleasure he was giving me.

He tightly grabbed me, moving my hips along with his thrusts. I was close to being pushed over the edge once more. The only sounds occupying the room were our moans and skin smacking against skin as we chased our pleasure.

“Open your mouth” I heard him say. I opened my eyes to see his thumb positioned over my lips. I let out a small whimper as I sucked his digit earnestly. I made sure to coat his finger with a lot of saliva, knowing exactly what he was going to do with it when it was out of my mouth.

He pulled his thumb out and immediately placed it on my clit. I gave out an embarrassingly loud sob as he started moving his finger against me in soft circular motions. I placed my lips on his neck, trying to muffle the noise coming out of my throat.

Spencer quickly grabbed my hair and pulled my head away as he started to slow down. “How many times do I have to tell you that I want to hear your pleasure?” In that moment, Spencer controlled my mind, body, and soul.

“I’m sorry Spencer. I’ll be your good girl, please don’t stop.” He returned back to the previous pace and thrust into me even harder. We both started chasing our orgasms, not being able to hold back any longer. He was pounding into me relentlessly and I was loving it. I am sure that I am going to be sore after this.

“Come for me (Y/N), I want to feel this tight cunt squeeze around my cock.” Say less, I am already ahead of you. My eyes were rolling to the back of my head and I felt my pussy pulsate around him. With one last motion against his thumb, I cried out his name multiple times as I climaxed.

Spencer whispered my name as he continued pushing into me, chasing his own orgasm. He thrust a couple more times before quickly pulling out, spilling himself over my stomach. I panted as I laid my head against the crook of his neck. His fingers thrummed a slow rhythm upon my lower back.

“So about that dinner... do you want to get Indian food?”

“Yeah, I can go for some samosas right now.”

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