#idk nature is beautiful and i love being alive | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ken-jaku · 11 months ago

Text

pretty nose, pretty boy. zayne from love and deepspace

there's a huge chance my phone may have distorted the quality to make it look like he has a dorsal hump but idc! i like the idea of it sm that im gonna lie to myself!

content warnings. suggestive content (smut), pussydrunk!zayne, both fem!reader and zayne are virgins, fingering, oral via face riding, zayne has a dorsal hump, semi!public sex (at akso hospital for the plot😼). vague mentions of zayne's asphyxiation kink, brief mentions of pining, nervous/anxious reader. verbal consent (zayne strictly wants words, no hums or nods). zayne is naturally dominant in this... idk what came over me. overstimulation. cumming right after an orgasm cause "love knows no bounds" :D mention of jealousy towards rafayel. reader has doctor/patient kink? all this on the first day of dating is crazyyy shit writing, haven't published anything since 2016 and that was a 5 chapter, 300 words each, wattpad story on hanahaki💀 huge chance i might edit this again later

word count. 5.09k words

"zayne?" your words are almost like a whisper as you squirm on the couch, impatience and anxiety riddling you as you can't wait to get dinner and execute your plan of either a.) finally getting a longer kiss compared to the two-second one you had earlier or b.) getting said kiss and have him hang out for a few more minutes after he walks you to your apartment. your boyfriend of just a few hours, which still feels rather unreal, sat across the room from you, hard at work. his long, scarred fingers tap away at the keyboard before him. a soft, short hum leaves his lips in acknowledgement of you.

said hum goes, unintentionally, ignored as you couldn't stop staring at him. the way his long eyelashes gently graced his lids, his nose twitching ever so slightly to shift his glasses as he focused on the computer screen. his beauty- his very being was captivating.

you never noticed it before but his nose had a small, almost unnoticeable, dorsal hump. soon enough, your mind went where no one's should be, especially on the day you confess and start dating. you wanted to fuck his face, plain and simple. sure, it was a bit too soon to have those thoughts but, really. who cares? you cuffed a pretty man with a pretty nose- you just can't help yourself!

"are you alive over there?" your physician's monotone voice almost makes you jump, "you've been staring at me for quite a while," his voice now laced with faux concern, "i couldn't get your attention for almost a minute."

you clear your throat, smoothing out your dress as you stand up. your fingers picked at each other as you got closer to him. zayne's mind drifts briefly from the task at hand as he watches you through the corner of his eyes, taking in the long silk sundress you chose to wear. the dress hugged all the right places and was quite flattering on you. for it to be the first formal piece of attire he'd see on you- it was like a blessing.

"when are we gonna leave? our reservation's in thirty minutes." you sigh, leaning over his desk and taking a peek at his computer before ultimately resting your head on the wooden surface, staring at his hands as the unfamiliar terms and long words on the screen annoyed you to no end.

"soon, my love, and stop hurting yourself. we won't be late." he places his left hand in yours, eyes not leaving the screen before him as he holds his breath in your presence. that was the end of it. you knew him well enough to know that. your begging would only result in the same monotone voice, the only difference being the almost unnoticeable annoyance that laced his words. it made no sense to fight back. you struggle not to release another sigh, your eyes never leaving the handsome man in front of you.

well, at least he has his beauty going for him despite being strict.

your hand reaches up to his face, delicately tracing the lines of his nose, following the curve of his high nose bridge upwards with your finger. just as you barely tilt his glasses, he stops you— his large, cold hand gripping your wrist. the interaction sends shivers down your spine as his eyes stare into yours with an intensity that leaves you wanting.

zayne finally lets out a breath, "is there something on my face for you to be staring at it for so long? the more you distract me, the longer this will take." your nickname follows— the word leaving his mouth sweetly in comparison to the others.

a murmur leaves your pretty, glossy lips, having swiped your tongue over them one too many times in the past three minutes, "you just have a pretty nose..." you trail off.

your physician tilts his head, eyes never leaving your face as he reads your body language. you were nervous- that was obvious but you were also hiding something, "what do you like about it?"

your cheeks feel warm and you find yourself averting his gaze as your head leaves the desk, the area now occupied with your elbows, "you have a dorsal hump."

he hums, "that i do... is that all you like?" your breath hitches and you cross your legs.

planting your palms on the wooden surface, you quickly attempt to rise from the desk only to find yourself being pulled back into place. zayne had dragged you back to him with the same singular hand that gripped your wrist. he was enjoying this, you could tell. it was never in his nature to pry so deeply even when it pertained to him so to see him show his true colours the day you begin dating...

"zayne..."

"come here." he hoarsely whispers as he stands up, taking a step closer to you before pulling you towards him, closing the distance between you two. his hand finally lets go of your wrist, opting to place both of them at the sides of your body, resting them on the desk behind you. you feel yourself leaning further against the table as he gets closer, until eventually, you find yourself almost sitting on it. he had you trapped.

zayne sighs, his head now resting on your shoulder as you eye the way his hand moves. just barely brushing your hip, he slides his hand down from your lower arm into your palm. one thing about zayne: he frequently has dreams about you- perverted ones at that. he was never proud of them but, god, did he indulge in them whenever they came along. you'd walk around the hospital every week, clueless about how he wished to secretly take you, not in front of everyone, though- he wants it to be away from prying eyes, but never prying ears.

while roaming akso and attending to duties, he'd regularly spot you in the corner of his eye- he doesn't like to admit it but he does make an attempt to cross paths with you at least once before seeing you in his office when you come for appointments. in your little skirt, you'd bend down to receive the same drink from the same secluded vending machine- the plush of your thighs on display for him to see. the sight would always leave his throat dry as he either speaks to you, forcing himself to let go of all the lewd thoughts and have a proper conversation, or he turns around quickly, as if he'd committed a sin, only to come back to that very same area every two weeks to commit the same act.

sometimes, just as he's about to address you, he hears your friend calling out to you with a sulky demeanour. it was always that same friend named rafayel too, never anyone different. deep down, he wishes for that kid to stop clinging to you like a lost puppy, showing up at akso, begging for your attention as he claims he fell down the stairs or got a cramp in his finger. he also occupies a hospital bed from time to time by admitting himself when he really doesn't need to but that's the least of zayne's grievances with him. zayne's always dreamed of wanting everyone, especially rafayel, to know you're his. and now that you two are dating, he's one step closer to said desire.

you feel two pecks on your shoulder blade and one on your palm. he brings your hand up to cup his cheek, "tell me what else you like about my nose, (name)." his tone was more commanding than anything, seemingly laced with jealousy and annoyance- not towards you, of course- never towards you. he'd never spoken to you that way before but, god, do you like it.

you watch as his fingers graze yours softly, his eyes only ever leaving yours when he closes them, revelling in the warmth your hand brings his cold, freezing body.

"i... " you feel his knee grazing your thigh as you try to spit something out.

"you can say it. no matter how vile and vulgar your thoughts may be... i want you to say it," after reassuring you, he asks once more, "what else do you like about my nose, (name)?"

a soft gasp leaves your lips as you feel his knee push further up your dress, "say it," he whispers, his lips now grazing your ear as his hand reaches for the back of your neck.

"i love how easy it looks to ride, zayne, fuck-" your words get muffled as zayne kisses you intensely. the feeling has you dizzy as the farthest you've gotten were the pecks initiated by you earlier that day and the ones he initiated just a few minutes ago.

his other hand grips your waist tightly as he presses himself into you further, his hands now the only thing keeping you from falling back onto the table. with the way he handled you, it was like he couldn't get enough. your very scent allured him.

"is this okay?" his lips withdraw yours as he begins leaves pecks on your cheek and neck as he awaited your response.

a nod and hum left you as you stared at the windows, looking at the reflection and taking pleasure in the way he kissed your body. but he stops.

as you were about to turn to him and ask what was wrong, a strict stare was all it took. his brownish-green eyes pierced into yours in the reflection of the glass. his eyebrows raised as he waited for something from you. he wanted words. he needed to hear, through proper verbal communication, that you wanted this.

"yeah..." you sound almost breathless facing him, "yeah, i wanna do this."

a small smile reaches his lips before he kisses you again. more deeply, more lovingly. he was relishing in your very being. the girl who he'd pined for was finally his after fifteen long years.

the hand gripping your hip would soon spread around your waist as the other rested on the fabric covering your thigh—a fabric that he would push up in annoyance as he needed to feel you bare.

his thumb would involuntarily twitch, grazing and pushing at your cunt as he squeezed and rubbed the plush of your inner thigh, the cold pressure being felt through the sheer panties you wore had you shivering.

"zayne.." your impatience was getting the best of you and zayne could see it. he chuckles as he bunches your silky sundress up at your waist and hooks his long pointer and index fingers around the last piece of fabric that bars you from him- teasing him with the dampness that left it looking a deeper colour than usual.

before he can ask, you give him the confirmation he needs, raising your hips, "take it off... please?"

he obeys, a little too willingly as if his patience was also wearing thin, and a soft 'fuck' leaves his lips as he stares at your dripping cunt, the vulgar word shocks the both of you.

he can only chuckle as he eyes the dress straps that had fallen off your shoulder, "the things you do to me." ever so slowly, his cold hands push the straps further down, pulling your arms from out of it. your breasts were now on display for him as the dress slid down, grazing your sensitive nipples in the process and stopping at your diaphragm.

you look away, gnawing on your lip. it set a weird feeling in your stomach knowing he was fully dressed in his doctorly attire while you were bare, exposed for him to see- for him to examine. you feel his hand rest back on your cunt, the other hand grasping your chin to look at him. he wasn't overly rough but the hold was quite strong and decisive. every breath and movement from zayne exuded dominance.

"don't hide from me, pretty girl, you know better than that." the pet name has you shuddering, paired with the fact that he began to gently prod at your entrance with his index finger before allowing you to suck him in completely, his thumb softly touching your clit occasionally as he inspects you.

his lips find yours once more, his tongue prodding your mouth and you can't help but whine at the feeling as he slowly introduces another finger. with every touch from him, you feel your breath leaving and your hands gripping harshly at the edges of the tables, almost piercing your skin.

zayne eventually touches something. something that leaves you even wetter than before. his fingers prodded and rubbed at you- at that spongy spot in your cunt that's been begging to be touched by him for a while.

"oh, wait- fuck!" you break the kiss as an involuntary hiccup leaves you. zayne grunts in annoyance, pushing lips back onto yours in an instant- his fingers increasing in momentum as he targets that pleasurable spot.

you find yourself sliding off the edge of the table as your body trembles with every thrust. despite still gripping the table, you almost collapse onto your knees if not for the man in front of you catching you. all while holding you, zayne doesn't let up- the squelching sounds your wet entrance makes flood the room, fueling him to keep going. he was so hell-bent on making you cum one way or another.

"c'mon, be a good girl for me. do this one thing for me 'n i'll let you ride my face. c'mon pretty girl." you couldn't see his eyes anymore. his fringes covered them as he looked down at your cunt, taking in the lewd noises that followed with every thrust of his finger and the clear, wet mess that started to drip down your thighs.

you can't help but nod, "anyth-ing for you." the abuse on your cunt and the way his mouth kisses at your nipples and sternum were taking your breath away. he was touching at all the right spots at all the right times.

your head throws itself back as the increasing pressure builds up in your stomach and you can't help but hold his wrist in an attempt to try and push him off of you. zayne, still, is relentless in his actions but he does raise his head to read your expressions and listen to your mumbled, repetitive 'yes's affirming him of how badly you want it.

"gonna cum. gonna cum, please lemme cum." you repeat over and over again as your nails dig crescent moon shapes into your lover's lower arm.

zayne chuckles, his fingers continuing at the same pace, never ceasing, "you can come whenever you want to, lovely. your hand is what's pushing me away."

your eyes shut tightly as the orgasmic feeling washes over you, basking in the complete and utter loss of the control you have over your body. you feel your eyes roll into into the back of your head behind your lids and your mouth parts as broken, whiny moans leave your lips. your lover smiles as he feels your walls spasm, clamping around his fingers repeatedly, harmonious with the way your thighs shiver.

you come down from your high rather slowly and zayne lifts you up, helping you move closer to the couch while you try to get your eyes to focus and attempt to beat the fatigue washing over you.

"you said you wanted to ride me, hmm?" zayne hums, itching in anticipation unbeknownst to you. you nod a bit nervously as you try to catch your breath, watching as he sits down and brings you to him by your waist, bunching your dress at your hips in the process. your cunt was almost lined up with his mouth.

"zayne, wait. i think i'm still s-ensitive," you say between gasps as you feel his breath fanning out onto your clit.

a hum leaves his lips and he looks at his watch briefly, "i don't think we have that much time, my love. it'll feel good, i promise. but if you want, we can wait until later tonight?" he kisses your thigh. there was no way in hell you were going to 'wait until later tonight.' the ache in your cunt from the anticipation would be too much for you to handle.

"hmm, it's okay..." you shake your head as you whisper tiredly, the post-orgasm drowsiness hitting you hard. he smiles as he lays down, taking you by the hand and leading your body closer to his face. his hands reach up towards his glasses. daintily holding them by the frame, he slips them off his face to place them on the glass table to the side of you.

the sight makes you pout and zayne, being zayne, catches it.

"what? do you also like my glasses too?" he smirks, bringing your hips to lay on him. you nod as you hesitantly let yourself be guided onto his chest.

"and when you get too rough and you break them, what then?" he questions, sass lacing his tone while his eyes focus on your cunt, watching it drip all your cum all over his shirt. the fact that he said 'when' and not 'if' had your body twitching. still, annoyance riddles your body and you roll your eyes. he's always ten steps ahead of you.

“ugh.. you’re so…” you’re at a loss for words and zayne can’t help but smile at your reaction.

he grips your hips roughly pulling you up to his face, "hmm...that's enough banter for now. don't be shy. 'm gonna ease you into it. and yes...i'll be fine, i promise."

with the constant reassurance, you build up enough courage to sit on him and almost immediately does his tongue find your clit, occasionally tracing around your labia and prodding your entrance.

"ha— zayne. wait!" a high-pitched strangled moan leaves your lips and the man grunts under you as your body lifts itself off of him in shock. zayne feels his eyes almost roll into the back of his head as he briefly catches a glimpse of how your pretty, puffy cunt pulsates around absolutely nothing. as he comes to his senses, his arms quickly lock around your legs, bringing you back down and keeping you in your rightful place— on top of him.

your moans get louder and louder and soon enough zayne finds himself humming satisfyingly into you, sending vibrations all throughout. to hear your cries of pleasure just from this, alone? while you tasted so good? zayne was in his own icy wonderland.

"waited years for this pussy and it's finally mine." he mumbles deliriously, and you nod, "all your— hmpf, fuck, all yours." he was fucking insatiable, arms tightening around your thighs as he forced you to press further down onto him. tears start to well in your eyes.

at this rate, zayne's cock was harder than ever before and you, yourself, notice that as you lean back, palm accidentally pressing down onto his erection, touching on the bounds of both pain and pleasure for him. a soft moan leaves him as he takes his mouth off of you for a moment, thick cock throbbing with want.

"wait," he says between shallow gasps for air, "not yet. i just want to focus on you right now... can you let me do that?" you nod and he slaps your thigh, which quickly has your spurting out multiple 'yes's in an apologetic tone.

you feel your body lifting to which you whine, tears falling in thick globs as you unconsciously hump the air for some needed friction, your pussy once again clamping around nothing, as you assume some sort of punishment was about to begin.

zayne watches you amusingly. it was quite a pathetic sight- one he loved, don't get him wrong but the thoughts that flowed into his mind weren't nice— slapping your ass, pinching your thigh or edging you every time you forgot to properly address him, tears falling down your face as you apologize and pout, begging to be fucked. god, he could feel his cock twitch in his pants.

it was the first official day of dating, though, so he wanted to cut you some slack and slowly ease you into things.

he finally puts you back down- noticeably, a bit further up his face. his arms lock you back in place, preparing himself in case you decide to run away from him again.

if anything, he'll ease you into things by forcing you to fuck yourself one orgasm into the other on his face.

"ride my face. fuck yourself using my nose." those words have your cunt spasming as you don't hesitate to listen to him.

your body jerks slowly as you ground down on him, his tall nose repeatedly tapping and prodding at your clit. zayne doesn't hesitate to continue his past ministrations, his tongue flat against you, sliding across your folds with every thrust from you.

"z-zayne. fuck." you moan as you grip the couch's arm for dear life, your body unconsciously speeding up as you look at the boy beneath you sitting so still and pretty for you with his eye half-lidded as his mouth softly parted. and, of course, the stimulation from his nose was just not helping.

zayne was drenched, soaked with your juices and he wouldn't let up. air lessened with each breath for him but he didn't care. in fact, he pushed his head further up into you. he loved it. he loved drowning in you.

"would love to have you sit on my face more often," he murmurs to himself as he feels your fingers entangle themselves in his hair, thighs locking and trembling around his head from the vibrations. zayne pushes his head up into your cunt even further, the hump on his hose throwing you for a loop.

"zayne. zay—fuck, fuck. oh, god!" you just couldn't get his name out of your mouth. it's as if he was currently conditioning you to focus on him— to know only him in this moment. he smiles, "it's alright, you can cum, baby. no one's stopping you. get off on my nose and mouth, baby. that's it." the sounds his face created with your pussy were oh, so lewd. it filled the entire room as your physician acted like you were a cup of fresh water waiting for him after he stayed in the sahara for a little too long.

soft whimpers leave your lips as you feel yourself sobbing. the pressure building up was too intense.

"come on, give it to me." the man under you grunts as he feels his dick twitch incessantly. no matter how badly he wanted to, zayne just couldn't resist palming himself. his tongue continues to fuck you sloppily, relishing in the act as he lapped up the savoury, dripping cum from you and spit from him like a dog. all while he played with your nipples, either groping, slightly grazing, or circling them. you name it.

you feel your legs thrash as a loud moan rips from your throat before you even realize what's coming. your body can't stop shaking and all you see is white yet zayne doesn't stop eating you out, his lips now encircling your clit and as he grips your legs even stronger, forcing you to relish in the harsh suction and vibrations as he moans along with you from the sight of you before him.

you squirt all over him, short bursts leaving your cunt to shower the man under you. the shock and embarrassment don't even last long as a gasp in pleasure leaves you- zayne was still on you, eyes closed as he lapped up every last drop you had offered him. he realized you came, his dick leaking pre-cum and twitching from the fact, but never truly processed it, fucking you through your orgasm and into the next one while not taking into account your sensitivity. you had no time to catch your breath.

"h—hey. wait... zayne!" you squirm. he hums unconsciously as he digs himself further into your cunt, overstimulating you with the flicks of his tongue. it's as if he can't stop. it's as if can't hear you. or maybe he just doesn't want to hear you.

"no more! hmphf— shit!" you repeatedly tap his shoulder as you continue to shake, your hips unconsciously still grinding into his face while your upper body rocks with sensitivity, nipples harder than ever and goosebumps riddling your skin. your thighs were practically squeezing his head now.

"one more for me baby, one more. please. just one more for me." zayne murmurs as he gasps for air. he looks as if he's lost his mind. his hair is dishevelled, with some parts of his fringes sticking up while the rest just barely covers his eyes. he really looks like a pervert that came straight out of a hentai in the moment. it was quite a sight.

the longer you stare, the more he looks blurry- your vision was becoming obscured, your senses simultaneously heightening as a result while the pressure in your tummy begins to build once more.

"hng— zayne, 'm gonna cum!" you sob, voice booming throughout the entire office as you feel yourself twitch, overstimulation ravaging your body. zayne's nails dig further into your hips, breaking skin, and the sharp pain allows you to finally let go. your back arches as your orgasm engulfs you, cum squirting out of you in bursts smaller yet more powerful than earlier.

"oh fuck��" a low, cracked whine leaves your boyfriend, his neck arching as he struggles to contain himself from quivering. his body shudders as he gently kisses your cunt and thighs. a fucked out look paints his face as he tries to catch his breath, his hand softly rubbing your waist in an attempt to calm you— and himself— down as he feels unusually lightheaded.

silence follows for a bit as you come down from your high and push yourself off of your lover's face who seemed very quiet—and not the usual quiet. there was something different about the air. hesitantly, you sit on his chest.

"zayne," you whisper nervously, "are you okay?"

zayne clears his throat, blinking harshly at the ceiling with his chest still heaving as his ears and cheeks are dusted red- his pretty mouth red, swollen and glistening with you. he swallows, avoiding eye contact with you as he tries to collect himself. you've never seen him like this... so shy, so embarrassed.

the silence that follows as your question goes unanswered causes anxiety to riddle through you, "did i do something wron-" "no," he interrupts not wanting to upset you in any way, "just... a minor miscalculation."

feeling relaxed, you push yourself down further onto his waist in an attempt to lay on top of him, "a minor miscalculation? what-"

oh.

you're shocked... and flattered as you feel a deeply soaked wet spot on his pants.

"i was too distracted and forgot about resisting my orgasm," he murmurs, not making eye contact. you smile, "hmm, i can tell. but don't be embarrassed, zayne. i find it a little hot... well, very hot." you chuckle. the reassurance was nice but, truth be told, he wanted his first load with you to be inside your glistening cunt, with you begging and pleading with him to give it to you, just like in his dreams.

one side of his lip curls up slightly, "i still can't believe i orgasmed untouched. though, this is my first time so i suppose it's not unusual."

just as you're about to lay on his chest, your body jerks upwards, "wait, what? you're a virgin, too? how'd you even know to do all th-"

"human anatomy," he interrupts, "being a surgeon, your physician and your boyfriend- it's quite necessary. and though i don't watch, a common assumption would be pornography."

embarrassment riddles your face and you mentally berate yourself for asking a stupid question as he kisses you, "... and i may have read some forums." his tone was soft and wispy, almost slipping past your ears. curiosity runs through you as you look up past his head at the computer. oh, that search history needed to be investigated.

"don't even think about it. i have a computer for work and another for personal use." he rolls his eyes.

gently, he lifts you from his waist and places you onto the couch just as he rises from it. he begins unbuttoning the cuffs of his dress shirt, wiping your cum residue from off his face onto the sleeves, "relax a bit. you need to come down from your high. we shouldn't miss the reservation if we leave in a minute... or three."

"wait, what about your work?"

zayne stops untying his tie to look at you. his head tilts and his eyebrow raises in the most comical way possible as if to say 'you can't be serious right now.'

"okay, fair. and.. your clothes? do you have an extra pair?" the moment you close your mouth you see zayne open a large closet filled with various button-ups and dress pants for varying occasions. as you take a closer look, you notice that they're organized by gradient and paired. not a single piece of clothing was out of place.

it was your turn to give him 'the look' as you scanned the closet before pointing at a paired outfit, a black turtleneck with matching dress pants. looking in that direction, zayne nods, taking the clothes from out the storage unit and undressing himself.

you feel your cheeks warm as you catch a glimpse of his bare back. you have yet to see him undressed and, to be honest, you don't want it to be now considering the two of you had plans after dinner. the sooner you fix your clothes the faster that time will arrive so that's what you do.

looking away, you notice something is missing- your panties. you quietly search for your underwear and it's nowhere to be seen. you scan the concrete floor and the velvet couches before directing your attention to the akso employee, only to catch him pushing sheer material into his pocket in silence just as you were about to query the fabric's whereabouts.

the two of you make eye contact once more. his face holds no emotion but he does turn around rather quickly, blush blooming at his ears once again as he looks at his computer before closing it and gathering the rest of his belongings.

note(s)💀. no one can come for me about the dorsal hump cause i found someone that happens to think the same thoughts as me! also i just finished day 2 of the valentine event??? zayne may have a sensitive neck ??? or am i just delusional??? + fav zayne edit if u care😼 also if i forgot something in the warnings plz dont hesitate to tell me! + i would love constructive crisitism just be nice abeg.

#i need some rum after this #and a nap #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #love and deepspace smut #l&ds #love & deepspace #lads #love & deepsace x reader #love and deepspace zayne #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #l&ds zayne #lads zayne #zayne x mc #zayne smut

1K notes · View notes

reidmarieprentiss · 5 months ago

Text

Too Sweet

Summary: Y/N knows Spencer is too good for her.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), angst, light fluff

Warnings/Includes: porn with plot, additional warnings under the cut, cosplay, wearing dress, use of Y/N, alcohol consumption

Word count: 11.9k

a/n: idk man i really want him

main masterlist

part two part three

Additional warnings: breast & nipple play, fingering, oral (m&f), PinV protected, biting

The convention hall buzzed with excitement, filled with an array of fans dressed as their favorite characters from the iconic series, Doctor Who. The air was alive with the chatter of people discussing their favorite episodes, theories about the show's plot twists, and the inevitable debates about which Doctor was the best. Vendors lined the walls, offering everything from collectible sonic screwdrivers to handmade TARDIS keychains.

Spencer Reid and Penelope Garcia were two of these enthusiastic attendees. Spencer was dressed impeccably as his favorite Doctor, the Eleventh, complete with a tweed jacket, bow tie, and fez perched jauntily on his head. Penelope, meanwhile, dazzled as the vibrant Thirteenth Doctor, sporting a rainbow-striped shirt, long coat, and bright yellow suspenders. Her hair was styled to perfection, and she wore a replica of the Thirteenth Doctor’s sonic screwdriver clipped to her belt.

They had spent the day gleefully exploring the convention together, indulging in all the nerdy joys the event had to offer. Panels, merchandise, photo ops with actors—they were having a fantastic time. They even participated in a trivia contest, which Spencer naturally excelled in, earning them a special edition Doctor Who poster. Everything was going splendidly until they ran into Penelope's ex, Kevin Lynch, who had the audacity to show up with his new date, a tall brunette who seemed to be equally as nerdy as Penelope.

Penelope's face fell as she spotted Kevin, her previous enthusiasm dimming slightly. She forced a smile and waved at Kevin, who looked surprised but waved back, a bit awkwardly.

"Penelope!" Kevin said, trying to sound cheerful but failing miserably. "It's, uh, great to see you here."

"Yeah, you too, Kevin," Penelope replied, her voice wavering slightly as she glanced at his date. She couldn't help but feel a pang of embarrassment and an awkward tension that hung in the air.

The encounter was brief, but it left Penelope feeling deflated. After exchanging a few pleasantries, she quickly excused herself and turned to Spencer, whispering that she needed a moment alone. Spencer nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with empathy, and watched as Penelope hurried off, clearly upset.

Now alone amidst the bustling crowd, Spencer found himself wandering around the convention hall, a bit lost without Penelope by his side. Despite being surrounded by thousands of people who shared his interests, he felt an uncomfortable sense of solitude creeping in. He adjusted his bow tie nervously, his eyes scanning the room for a friendly face or familiar sight.

As he wandered, Spencer couldn't help but feel self-conscious, almost like a lost puppy in a sea of strangers. The convention was vast, and though he loved the atmosphere, it was a lot to take in alone. He fiddled with his fez, trying to focus on the displays and booths around him, but the sense of being out of place lingered.

It was then that he noticed you, standing a short distance away, dressed as the most enchanting character from Doctor Who—Madame de Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace.

Your costume was a stunning recreation of the elegant 18th-century dress worn by Reinette, complete with intricate lace details, flowing skirts, and an opulent corset that captured the character's timeless beauty. A perfectly styled wig with cascading curls crowned your head, adding an authentic touch to your ensemble. You wore a delicate mask in your hand, which you twirled absentmindedly as you observed the convention floor, your eyes occasionally flicking toward Spencer with an amused curiosity. But what struck Spencer most was your warm smile, a beacon of kindness amidst the chaos.

You had noticed Spencer earlier, observing him with a gentle curiosity as he meandered through the crowd. Something about his endearing awkwardness and the way he carried himself drew your attention, and you found yourself walking over to him, compelled by a mix of admiration and empathy.

With a kind and playful smile, you approached him and said, "Hey, you look lost. Do you need help finding your parents?"

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise at your teasing comment, and he let out a surprised snort, momentarily caught off guard. He quickly recovered from his initial embarrassment and noticed the twinkle of amusement in your eyes.

"Uh, no, no thank you," he replied with a sheepish grin. "I was given permission to look around by myself."

Your laughter was infectious, and Spencer felt the tightness in his chest ease. It was as if your presence alone had a calming effect, grounding him in the moment and reminding him that he wasn't truly alone. Your genuine kindness and humor were like a breath of fresh air.

"I'm glad to hear it," you said, still smiling as you playfully curtsied. "I'm Y/N, by the way. A fellow time traveler, it seems."

Spencer hesitated for a moment before bowing slightly at the waist, feeling a little more confident now. "Spencer Reid," he replied, introducing himself. "And yes, it seems we both have a knack for getting lost in time."

Your shared laugh seemed to lighten the atmosphere, and Spencer couldn't help but feel grateful for your unexpected companionship. It was a simple moment, yet it carried a weight of significance—an unexpected connection made in the most delightful of circumstances.

As the vibrant crowd continued to flow around you, your conversation with Spencer felt like a moment suspended in time, a quiet bubble amidst the lively chaos of the convention. The laughter, chatter, and occasional shout of delight from fellow fans echoed through the hall, but you found yourself entirely focused on the man standing before you.

"So, Spencer," you began, looking around at the lively crowd, "what's been your favorite part of the convention so far?"

“Well, I won the trivia contest!” Spencer replied with enthusiasm, his eyes lighting up with pride. “I love seeing everyone’s costumes too, the creativity and thought they put into them is inspiring. And the food court! Did you see they have—why are you looking at me like that? Am I rambling? Oh, I am, hah, sorry.”

You chuckled softly, finding his rambling endearing. “Don’t stop on my account; I happen to think it’s very cute.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your compliment. “You… you do?”

“Indeed, Doctor,” you replied with a playful glint in your eye.

“How did you know I’m a doctor?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“Um…” you pointed at his costume, a classic Doctor Who ensemble that perfectly captured the essence of the Eleventh Doctor.

“Oh! Right, you meant Doctor Who Doctor,” he realized, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.

“Yes, but are you really a doctor?” you inquired, intrigued by the idea of him being both a fictional and real-life doctor.

Spencer nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of humility and pride. “I have three PhDs.”

“Oh wow, that’s hot,” you said, your voice teasing yet sincere, enjoying the way his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink.

“What?” he squeaked, clearly flustered by your unexpected compliment.

“Tell me, Spencer… do you have plans after the convention?” you asked, leaning in slightly, your interest in him evident.

“Um, no, nope. No, I do not. Totally free,” Spencer stammered, trying to keep his composure but feeling his heart race at the prospect of spending more time with you.

“Good to know,” you replied with a warm smile. “Would you like to get a drink with me?”

“I would love to,” he answered, his voice brimming with exhilaration.

“Wonderful,” you said, pleased with his response.

The two of you exchanged numbers, a small gesture that felt monumental, sealing the promise of further connection beyond the convention's vibrant confines. As you parted ways, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

As he watched you disappear into the colorful sea of costumes, you turned back to Spencer, your heart still racing with the promise of more time together. “I’ll see you later, Spencer,” you said, offering him one last lingering smile before slipping away into the crowd.

Spencer stood there for a moment, his mind whirling with possibilities and the thrill of new connections. As he adjusted his fez and prepared to rejoin Penelope, he smiled to himself, the Doctor Who theme echoing in the distance as he headed back into the lively fray.

—

Later that night, you and Spencer agreed to meet up at a cozy little bar nestled in a bustling neighborhood near your apartment. The day had been a whirlwind of excitement and adventure at the Doctor Who convention, but now, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city lights twinkled, a new kind of eagerness filled the air.

You arrived at the bar first, filled with anticipation and nervousness. Gone was the elegant 18th-century gown you wore at the convention; you now wore a low-cut, tight shirt that hugged your curves and showed off a bit more cleavage than before. It was a bold choice, one that made you feel confident and sexy, and you hoped Spencer would appreciate it.

As you waited for Spencer to arrive, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of fever at seeing him again. Something about his awkward charm and genuine kindness had struck a chord with you, and you were eager to see where the evening might lead.

When Spencer walked in, your breath caught at the sight of him. Gone was the Eleventh Doctor costume, replaced by a classic sweater vest ensemble that was quintessentially Spencer Reid. He wore a crisp button-down shirt under the vest, paired with slacks that somehow made him look both dorky and endearingly handsome. You found it incredibly attractive, and a smile tugged at your lips as he approached.

“Hey,” he said, a bit shyly, his eyes darting around the bar before settling on you. When he noticed your outfit, he froze for a moment, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of your low-cut shirt. “Wow, you look... amazing.”

“Thank you,” you replied, feeling a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled, running a hand through his hair in a self-conscious gesture. “I, uh, didn’t know what to wear, but I’m glad it works.”

“Oh, it definitely works,” you assured him, your gaze lingering on his sweater vest. “I have a thing for sweater vests.”

He laughed, his cheeks tinged with pink. “Good to know. I have plenty of them.”

You motioned for him to join you at the bar, where you ordered drinks and settled into a comfortable conversation. The atmosphere was relaxed, with soft music playing in the background and the hum of conversations surrounding you.

“So, how did you get into Doctor Who?” Spencer asked, genuinely curious as he took a sip of his drink.

“I’ve always been a fan of science fiction,” you replied, leaning closer to ensure he could hear you over the chatter. “The idea of time travel, the adventures, and the characters just drew me in. Plus, the show has this amazing ability to make you think about life in new ways.”

Spencer nodded, clearly pleased with your answer. “I completely agree. The show is more than just entertainment; it’s a way to explore complex ideas and emotions. I think that’s why it resonates with so many people.”

“Exactly!” you said enthusiastically, enjoying the ease of conversation between you. “And what about you? What drew you to the series?”

Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling with the joy of discussing something he loved. “It started as a way to escape, I guess. Growing up, I didn’t have a lot of friends, but Doctor Who was like a companion, in a way. It taught me a lot about empathy and bravery.”

You smiled, touched by his honesty. “That’s really great, Spencer.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking a bit bashful under your gaze. “I’m glad I met someone who appreciates the show as much as I do.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly, a dance of words that brought you closer with each exchange. You found yourself laughing easily, the tension of earlier dissipating as you both shared stories and jokes, losing track of time in the warm ambiance of the bar.

As the night wore on, you noticed Spencer stealing glances at your shirt, his eyes flickering to your cleavage before quickly averting his gaze, trying to be polite. You couldn’t help but find his flustered reactions adorable, and you decided to tease him a little.

“Is there something interesting over here?” you asked, gesturing to your chest with a playful grin.

Spencer’s face turned a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “Uh, no, I mean, yes, but—oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare.”

You laughed softly, reaching out to touch his hand reassuringly. “Relax, Spencer. I don’t mind. It’s kind of flattering, actually.”

He exhaled, clearly relieved by your response. “Well, in that case, yes, it’s very distracting,” he admitted, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“Good to know I still have it,” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a satisfied expression.

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You definitely do.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, filled with the promise of more to come. As the night deepened, the conversation shifted from playful banter to something more intimate, the chemistry between you undeniable.

“So, Spencer,” you said, your voice dropping to a more sultry tone. “What does the rest of your night look like? Are you all booked up?”

“Um, no, not really,” he replied, his heart racing as he caught the glint in your eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Well,” you said, leaning closer, “I was wondering if you’d like to come back to my place. We could continue our conversation somewhere a bit more private.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, his mind spinning with possibilities. “I would love that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Great,” you replied with a smile, feeling a thrill of anticipation as you both stood up, ready to leave the bar behind for the promise of what awaited you.

The walk back to your apartment was filled with a charged silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. You felt Spencer’s presence beside you, a comforting warmth that made your heart race with excitement.

As you reached your apartment building, you turned to him, your eyes meeting in a shared understanding. “This is me,” you said, gesturing to the entrance.

“Nice place,” Spencer commented, trying to keep his cool despite the nerves bubbling inside him.

You unlocked the door and led him inside, your heart pounding with each step. The atmosphere was electric, one that promised something incredible.

Once inside, you turned to face Spencer, a playful smile on your lips. “Make yourself at home,” you said, gesturing to the cozy living room. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just some water would be great,” he replied, trying to steady his racing heart.

You nodded and disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two glasses of water. As you handed one to Spencer, your fingers brushed against his, sending a jolt of electricity through you both.

“Thank you,” Spencer said, his voice warm and sincere.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, sitting down beside him on the couch. The proximity was intoxicating, and you could feel the tension building with each passing second.

“I have to say, I’m really glad we met today.” Spencer said, his voice slightly shaky.

“Me too,” you agreed, your gaze locked on his.

The room seemed to shrink around you, the world fading away until it was just the two of you, enveloped in a bubble of connection and desire.

As you leaned in closer, your lips mere inches from his, Spencer’s breath hitched in suspense. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the magnetic pull drawing you together.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft caress.

“Yes?” he replied, his eyes searching yours, filled with longing.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you asked, your words laced with an invitation that left little room for doubt.

Spencer swallowed, his heart racing as he processed your offer. “I’d love to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

With that, you closed the distance between you, capturing his lips in a gentle yet passionate kiss. It was a kiss filled with promise and possibility, a moment that transcended the ordinary and ventured into the extraordinary.

Spencer kissed you back with a low whimper as he began to ravish you. His lips were soft and urgent against yours, moving with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You could feel the strain in his body as he pressed against you, his hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you was palpable, an electric current that seemed to spark and crackle in the air around you.

You responded eagerly, threading your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands slip between your fingers as you deepened the kiss. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of the lingering sweetness of the drinks you'd shared earlier and something distinctly Spencer that made you crave more.

Spencer's hands moved with a purpose, exploring the curves of your body with a gentle yet insistent touch that left you breathless. His fingertips traced the outline of your spine, sending delightful tingles through your skin as they traveled lower, coming to rest on the small of your back. You arched into his touch, pressing your body more firmly against his, savoring the feel of him against you.

With a quiet moan, Spencer shifted, guiding you backward until you were lying beneath him on the couch. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath warm and ragged against your lips as he gazed down at you with a smoldering intensity. The look in his eyes sent a thrill through you, a promise of the pleasures to come.

Spencer leaned down, capturing your lips once more as his hands continued their exploration. His touch was both tender and demanding, a perfect balance that left you yearning for more. You felt his fingers trail over your exposed skin, slipping beneath the fabric of your low-cut shirt, and you shivered in anticipation as he began to explore further.

The sensation of his hands against your bare skin was electrifying, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through your body. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, an insistent ache that begged for more as Spencer's touch became more insistent. His hands roamed over your body with a confidence that contradicted the initial shyness you had seen in him earlier.

Your shirt slipped further up your torso, and Spencer's lips left yours to follow the path his hands had traced moments before. His mouth moved with a deliberate slowness, leaving a trail of heated kisses along your jawline, down the column of your neck, and across your collarbone. Each kiss was a promise, a vow of what was to come, and you found yourself lost in the sensations he was creating.

As Spencer's mouth traveled lower, you let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his sweater vest. The texture of the material beneath your fingertips was a comforting contrast to the fiery sensations his lips and hands were invoking, grounding you even as you felt yourself soaring.

Spencer's lips moved over the swell of your breasts, his touch reverent yet possessive, as if he were memorizing every inch of your skin with his mouth. You felt a thrill at the thought of being the focus of his attention.

Spencer’s lips ghosted over your skin, each kiss sending waves of heat coursing through your body. As he reached the edge of your shirt, he paused, his fingers gently teasing the hem as he looked up at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Are you planning on keeping this on all night?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

You chuckled softly, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “Well, Doctor, I thought I’d give you something to unwrap. Consider it a mystery.”

Spencer grinned, his fingers deftly pulling your shirt higher until it slipped over your head, leaving you exposed beneath him. His gaze raked over your bare skin, appreciation evident in his eyes. “Mystery solved,” he whispered, his tone filled with a mixture of desire and admiration.

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your skin tingling. “You’re a fast learner,” you replied, your voice sultry as you reached up to pull him back down to you. “But let’s see if you can handle what’s next.”

His eyes darkened with intensity at your challenge, and he captured your lips in another heated kiss, his hands exploring your newly exposed skin with renewed vigor. The sensations were dizzying, each touch and caress a testament to his growing confidence and desire.

Spencer’s hands traveled down your sides, tracing the curves of your waist and hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You let out a quiet moan, arching into his touch as he began to work them down, his fingers deft and sure.

“Getting a bit bold, aren’t we?” you teased, nipping at his lower lip as he freed you from the confines of your clothing.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” he retorted, his voice tinged with amusement as he leaned back to admire his handiwork.

You reached for the hem of his sweater vest, tugging it upwards with a playful smirk. “I think it’s time we even the playing field, don’t you?”

He chuckled, raising his arms to help you remove the vest, followed by his button-down shirt. You couldn’t help but appreciate the lean muscles beneath his clothing, the way his skin seemed to glow in the dim light of the room.

“Not bad, Doctor,” you quipped, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest appreciatively. “Maybe I should have gone to med school.”

Spencer let out a low laugh, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I doubt they teach this in med school.”

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a course or two,” you replied, your fingers trailing lower, teasing the waistband of his pants.

He inhaled sharply, his body responding to your touch in a way that made you both feel like you were on fire. “I think we’re about to graduate to something more advanced,” he murmured, his voice a mix of fieriness and teasing.

You grinned, pulling him back down to you, your lips capturing his in a passionate kiss that promised more than words ever could. The heat between you was intense, a consuming fire that left you both breathless and wanting more.

Spencer’s hands continued their exploration, mapping every inch of your skin with a reverence that made your heart race. You could feel the tension building, a delicious feeling that promised to leave you both satisfied yet craving even more.

As you shifted beneath him, your body pressed against his in a way that made your intentions clear, you whispered, “What do you say we take this somewhere more comfortable?”

He nodded, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own. “Lead the way,” he replied, his voice husky with desire.

With that, you guided him toward your bedroom, the promise of what was to come hanging in the air like an electric charge. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you and the enticing possibilities that lay ahead.

Once inside your bedroom, the atmosphere shifted, the intimacy of the space amplifying the pull between you. The dim lighting cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate bubble that felt like it was just for you and Spencer.

You turned to face him, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you slowly backed toward the bed. “I hope you’re ready for this, Doctor.”

He followed, his movements confident and sure as he approached, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve been ready since the moment I saw you,” he replied, his voice low and filled with want.

As you sank onto the bed, Spencer joined you, his body warm and inviting against yours. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that drew you closer with each passing second.

You reached for him, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw before pulling him in for another searing kiss. His lips were soft and insistent against yours, his touch possessive as he pressed you back against the sheets. The mattress dipped under your combined weight, and you felt the cool, crisp fabric of the sheets beneath your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Spencer’s body.

Spencer’s breath mingled with yours, warm and intoxicating with desire. His hands traveled with a deliberate slowness, exploring the curves and contours of your body as though committing every inch to memory. You felt his fingers skim over the bare skin of your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. The sensation was electric, sending delightful tingles coursing through your veins.

As he deepened the kiss, a low groan rumbled in his throat, vibrating through your body and sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. Your hands found their way to his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin as you pulled him closer, craving the warmth and weight of him against you.

His lips moved with a languid, teasing rhythm, exploring the delicate skin of your neck with gentle, open-mouthed kisses that sent your heart racing. You tilted your head back, granting him better access as a soft sigh escaped your lips, filling the room with a quiet sound of pleasure.

Spencer’s kisses trailed lower, his breath hot against your skin as he made his way down your collarbone. The sensation was intoxicating, a delicious mix of tenderness and urgency that left you breathless. You felt his hands slide up your sides, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin beneath your ribcage before coming to rest on your waist.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers threading through his hair as you arched into his touch. “Get to the point, Doctor.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and enticing, as he shifted his weight to hover above you, his eyes dark with longing. The air between you crackled with intensity, a potent mix of suspense and need that seemed to draw you even closer together.

Your breathing grew ragged, each inhale a shuddering gasp as you surrendered to the pleasure building inside you. Spencer’s touch was like a drug, addictive and all-consuming, leaving you dizzy with longing.

He paused for a moment, his eyes meeting yours, a silent question lingering between you. You nodded, giving him the permission he sought, and he smiled—a small, intimate curve of his lips that made your heart skip a beat.

Spencer hands deftly working to remove the last barriers between you. The sensation of the cool air against your skin was a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his touch, sending shivers of need cascading through your body.

The room was filled with a symphony of soft sounds: the rustle of fabric as Spencer undressed you, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the rapid, excited beat of your own heart. The smell of your mingled scents—his cologne, a hint of your perfume, and the unmistakable musk of arousal—filled the air, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that heightened every sensation.

As Spencer’s hands continued their journey, his lips followed, pressing soft, heated kisses to every inch of exposed skin. The feel of his mouth against your body was electric, each kiss a spark that ignited a fire deep within you. You could hear the quiet, appreciative noises he made as he explored, a low hum of approval that vibrated through you, making your skin tingle with fever.

His mouth found the sensitive spot at the base of your throat, and he lingered there, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin and his teeth scraping behind. The sensation was exquisite, and it sent a shiver down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him close as he continued his ministrations.

His mouth continued its journey, trailing kisses down the length of your torso, his breath hot and humid against your skin. Each touch of his lips was a promise, a hint of the pleasures yet to come. You could feel the gentle scrape of his stubble against your skin, a delightful roughness that added to the sensory overload.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your thighs, his fingers curling around the soft flesh as he gently parted them, creating space for himself between your legs. The anticipation was almost unbearable, a sweet ache that thrummed through your veins as you waited for his next move.

He paused for a moment, his breath warm and heavy against your inner thigh as he looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. The look in his eyes sent a jolt of electricity through your body, a silent communication of his intentions that left you breathless.

When he finally moved, it was with a purpose and a tenderness that took your breath away. His mouth found its mark, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to the most intimate part of you. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of pleasure that left you gasping and trembling beneath him.

Spencer's tongue traced a path of fire, the wet heat of his mouth a stark contrast to the cool air around you. The feeling of his tongue against you was indescribable, a perfect blend of softness and pressure that had you writhing with need. You could hear the wet, rhythmic sounds of his movements, a deliciously sinful symphony that filled the room and drove you wild with desire.

The taste of you seemed to spur him on, his movements growing more insistent, more confident as he explored every inch of you. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you steady as he lavished attention on you, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body.

You could feel the tension building, a tight coil of desire that wound tighter and tighter with each passing second. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, your hands clutching at the sheets as you tried to hold on, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations Spencer was creating.

And then, with a final, masterful stroke of his tongue, the coil snapped, sending you spiraling into a blinding wave of ecstasy. Your body arched off the bed, a cry of pure pleasure escaping your lips as you surrendered to the intense release. Every nerve ending seemed to ignite, the pleasure radiating out from your core in waves that left you trembling and gasping for breath.

Spencer didn't stop, his movements gentling but never ceasing as he guided you through the aftershocks, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were spent and boneless beneath him. The room was filled with the sound of your ragged breaths, the quiet hum of the city outside, and the beating of your heart.

As the world slowly came back into focus, you felt Spencer's weight shift, his body sliding up to join you on the bed. He gathered you into his arms, his touch gentle and soothing as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek, the warmth of his skin a comforting presence that grounded you.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. "I may have misread you…" you murmured, your voice still breathless from the intensity of the experience.

Spencer looked at you, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he tried to read your expression. "How so?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent another wave of heat through you.

“I thought you were some nerdy dork who wouldn’t know what to do,” you confessed with a teasing grin, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. “You proved me so wrong.”

Spencer chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm like honey, his eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," he replied, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. The touch was tender and sweet, a stark contrast to the intense passion you'd just shared.

As the warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, a flicker of awareness crept into your mind, reminding you of the vulnerability of your current position. Spencer was undeniably pretty, fun, and, as you had just discovered, incredibly talented with his mouth. But letting him get too close, emotionally, was a different matter—a potential disaster waiting to happen.

You felt a pang of uncertainty, a reminder that you'd let yourself get carried away in the heat of everything today. The thought of letting him see more of you, of exposing the parts of yourself you kept hidden, was both thrilling and terrifying.

Gently, you scooted away, creating a small space between you on the bed. Spencer watched you with a slight frown, his brow furrowing in concern as he noticed the shift in your demeanor.

“Hey,” he said softly, reaching out to touch your arm. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just… taking a breather.”

He nodded, understanding but still curious. The moment hung between you, a delicate balance of intimacy and distance that you both navigated carefully.

Wanting to redirect the focus and return the favor, you shifted onto your knees, your movements deliberate and confident. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly as he watched you, questioning flickering in his gaze.

You leaned forward, letting your hands glide over the planes of his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. The sensation was intoxicating, each touch sending a spark of desire through your body as you explored the contours of his torso.

“Now, Doctor,” you said, your voice low and teasing, “I think it’s my turn to show you what I can do.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he watched you with rapt attention. “I’m not going to stop you,” he replied, a playful edge to his voice as he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows to give you full access.

You grinned, pleased by his response as you moved lower, your hands trailing down the length of his body. The texture of his skin was smooth and warm under your touch, each muscle firm and defined as you explored every inch with a deliberate slowness that made his breath catch.

The room was filled with the quiet rustle of sheets, the soft sounds of your movements as you shifted to straddle his legs, your body settling comfortably between his thighs. The anticipation in the air was palpable, a charged energy that seemed to crackle with each passing second.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his stomach, feeling the way his muscles tensed beneath your lips. The sensation was exhilarating, a rush of power and intimacy that left you wanting more.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, his head falling back against the pillows as he surrendered to the sensations you were creating. The sound sent a thrill through you, a confirmation of the effect you had on him, and it spurred you on, encouraging you to continue your exploration.

You let your hands wander lower, tracing the line of his waistband before slipping beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. Spencer’s breath hitched again, a soft, needy sound that made your heart race.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice a teasing whisper as you glanced up at him, enjoying the way his eyes were half-lidded with desire, his lips parted in want.

Spencer nodded, his voice a breathless murmur. “Mhm.”

You smiled, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him so open and vulnerable beneath you. It was a heady feeling, one that made you want to give him everything you had, to explore every inch of him and discover all the ways you could make him come undone.

With a gentle touch, you eased his pants lower, revealing more of the skin you so desperately wanted to explore. The cool air kissed his skin, sending a shiver through him as you continued your ministrations, your hands and lips moving with a purposeful intent that left him gasping.

The texture of his skin under your fingers was smooth and warm, a contrast to the slightly rough fabric of his pants as they slid down his legs. You could feel the faint, steady beat of his pulse beneath your fingertips. The cool air seemed to heighten every sensation, sharpening the feeling of your touch against his bare skin.

As you explored lower, you could hear the soft, almost involuntary sounds Spencer made in response to your touch—a quiet gasp, a low moan, the sharp intake of breath when you grazed a particularly sensitive spot. Each sound proving the effect you were having on him, encouraging you to continue your exploration with renewed confidence.

You leaned in, your lips brushing over the expanse of skin just above his waistband, savoring the slightly salty taste of him. The feel of your mouth against his skin drew another low groan from Spencer, a needy sound that reverberated through your body and filled the room.

The slight roughness of his sparse hair beneath your lips was a contrast to the smooth skin of his abdomen, and you reveled in the differences, your fingers dancing over every inch as you memorized the planes and angles of his body. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to explore further.

With every touch and kiss, you could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a palpable energy that seemed to thrumming in the air around you. His muscles tensed under your hands, responding to your every movement with a sensitivity that only served to heighten your own arousal.

His hips shifted slightly, an involuntary movement that brought him closer to you, seeking more of the sensations you were creating. The friction of your touch against him was a delicious torment, each caress, each brush of your lips a promise of the release he so desperately craved.

You continued down, your mouth trailing lower with a deliberate slowness that was as much for your pleasure as it was for his. The taste of his skin lingered on your lips, a reminder of the connection you shared, the chemistry that burned brightly between you.

Spencer’s hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he guided you closer to his bulge that you had been neglecting, his touch both gentle and insistent. The slight tug at your scalp sent a shiver through you, a thrill of eagerness that urged you to continue your exploration with even more fervor.

Your lips traveled lower, past where he wanted you, tracing a path along the sensitive skin of his inner thigh with your lips and tongue, where you could feel the taut muscle beneath. The sensation of his skin against your lips, the warmth of his body, the subtle tremor that ran through him as you pressed a lingering kiss to his hip—all of it combined to create a heady mix of sensations that left you breathless.

The soft rustle of the sheets beneath you was the only sound in the room aside from the quiet, rhythmic hum of Spencer’s breathing and the occasional low moan that slipped past his lips. You could feel the way his body responded to your touch with an eagerness that mirrored your own. It was a dance of give and take, a perfect harmony of movements and sensations that left you both on the edge of control.

Spencer’s hands tightened in your hair, a gentle reminder of his presence, his need, and you responded by drawing him deeper into the sensations, your touch sure and steady as you worked to bring him closer to the edge.

Finally, putting the poor man out of his misery, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his briefs down. Exposing him to the cool air, causing him to shiver. Then, because you’re not a monster, you licked a slow stripe up the side of his red, hard cock, causing a very loud groan to fall from between Spencer's lips.

The moment stretched out, filled with a tension that was both electric and tangible. The room was filled with the soft sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet rhythm that underscored the intense moment.

Your fingers brushed against his skin, tracing a delicate path along the line of his hip bone. You could feel the subtle tremor that ran through him. The warmth of his skin was intoxicating, drawing you closer, urging you to continue your exploration with a sense of urgency that bordered on desperate.

Spencer’s body was a study in contrasts—the hard lines of muscle beneath the softness of skin, the way he shivered under your touch even as he leaned into it, seeking more of the sensations you were creating.

The cool air caressed his exposed skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your touch. You watched as goosebumps erupted along his flesh, a physical manifestation of his heightened arousal. The sight sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a reminder of the power you held in this moment.

You leaned in, your breath warm against his cock as you placed a soft, lingering kiss along the tip. The taste of him was addictive, a heady mix of salt and musk that left you wanting more. The feeling of his skin beneath your lips was electric, sending shivers of excitement through your body.

Spencer let out a quiet groan, a low, primal sound that reverberated through the room and sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core. His hands found their way, deeper somehow, in your hair, his grip firm and steady as he urged you closer, his need evident in the way he moved you.

His cock twitched in response to your touch, the sensation was dizzying, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you breathless. You allowed your fingers to explore further, tracing a slow, deliberate path along the length of his shaft. The texture was smooth and warm, a perfect contrast to the cool air that surrounded you. You could feel the faint tremor in his muscles, a testament to his struggle to maintain control in the face of such intense sensation.

“Please, please do something,” Spencer nearly whined, his voice tinged with desperation as he watched you with wide eyes, his body trembling with need.

As you finally leaned in, allowing your mouth to join the dance of sensation and touch, you heard Spencer’s breath hitch in his throat, a quiet sound of desire that filled the room. The taste of him on your tongue was intoxicating, a rich, heady mix of salt and musk that left you craving more.

The moment your lips made contact, Spencer released a shuddering exhale, his body responding to the heat of your mouth with a visceral intensity that took your breath away. His hips shifted involuntarily, each movement sending ripples of sensation through your body as well.

The sound of your mouth against his skin was almost hypnotic, a rhythmic whisper that echoed through the room, mingling with Spencer's soft moans and the quiet rustle of the sheets beneath him. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his abdomen as he tried to steady his breathing, the quiet hitch in his breath every time you shifted, adjusted your grip, or took him deeper.

His taste lingered on your tongue as you bobbed your head along his shaft. The feeling of his smooth, taught skin between your lips only caused the mess between your thighs to grow. You were soaking wet at the sight of the man who so confidently took you apart, writhing at the feeling of your mouth on him.

Spencer's hands found their way to your hair, his fingers tangling in the strands as he tried to hold onto the last ounce of his control. His touch was gentle but insistent, a silent plea for you to continue, to explore every inch of him until he was lost in the overwhelming pleasure that you were so skillfully creating.

As you continued your ministrations, you couldn't help but revel in the power you held over him, the way you could make his body respond to your every touch, your every movement. It was intoxicating, the thrill of being the one to unravel him, to bring him to the edge and watch as he teetered there, a breathless, trembling mess beneath you.

The quiet, involuntary sounds that slipped past his lips were music to your ears, a symphony of pleasure and need that urged you on, pushing you to explore further, to discover every hidden reaction, every secret spot that made him gasp and moan.

Spencer's breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with each breath as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. You could feel the tension coiling tighter within him, a living thing that pulsed and throbbed in your mouth, begging for release.

With each pass of your mouth, each flick of your tongue, you felt him draw nearer to the brink, the pleasure building to a fever pitch that left you both trembling with need. You pulled up to his tip, sucking harshly and greedily taking down the precum you were rewarded.

“Fuck, fuck, Y/N. You have to pull off, I’m gonna—”

Finally, as you felt him begin to unravel beneath you, his grip on your hair tightening, you knew he was on the verge of release. The realization sent a thrill of satisfaction through you, a sense of accomplishment at having brought him to this point, this state of utter abandon.

But, you pulled off, just as he asked.

His eyes fluttered open, glazed with desire, and a mixture of relief and frustration washed over his features. The air between you was charged with electricity, thick as you gazed up at him, watching the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thank you,” he breathed, his voice a low, rough whisper filled with gratitude and a hint of desperation. His hands remained in your hair, holding you there as if afraid you might disappear, the heat of his skin still pulsing beneath your touch.

You sat back on your heels, his hands falling, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you surveyed the man before you. Spencer lay sprawled across the bed, a beautiful mess of tousled hair, flushed skin, and a very hard cock leaning on his tummy.

“Didn’t want to spoil the fun too soon?” you teased, your voice sultry and full of promise.

Spencer let out a breathless laugh, his eyes sparkling with amusement and unabashed desire. “I didn’t expect you to be so... good at this,” he admitted, his voice still tinged with awe as he watched you with a newfound appreciation.

“Surprised?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached out to trail your fingers lazily along his thigh, feeling the residual tremor of his muscles beneath your touch.

“Pleasantly,” he replied, his voice rich with honesty as he met your gaze, a slow smile spreading across his lips.

“Well, the night’s not over yet,” you said, your tone full of suggestion as you shifted your position, moving with a deliberate slowness that kept Spencer’s gaze locked onto you. The dim lighting cast a warm, intimate glow over your skin, highlighting every curve and angle as you made your intentions clear.

Spencer watched you, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing. You were presenting yourself to him, offering yourself. The realization sent a fresh wave of heat through his already overwrought senses.

Your movements were slow and deliberate, a sensual dance that had Spencer transfixed, his breath catching in his throat as he watched you. You turned slightly, your back arching gracefully, presenting your body to him in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted. The smoothness of your skin and the glistening of your core caught the light, every curve accentuated by the shadows, and Spencer couldn't help but let his gaze travel over you, taking in every detail, every nuance.

“You like what you see, Doctor?” you teased with a shake of your hips, your voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down Spencer’s spine.

His response was a low, almost guttural sound that spoke volumes, a wordless expression of the desire that burned so brightly within him. He shifted slightly, his body tense as his hands reached out as if drawn to you by an invisible force.

“I like it very much,” he murmured, his voice a husky blend of awe and hunger as he drank in the sight of you. The way you held yourself, the confidence in your gaze, the promise of what was to come—it was all intoxicating, drawing him in and leaving him utterly captivated.

Spencer moved closer, the soft rustle of the sheets beneath him a quiet accompaniment to the sounds and sensations of desire that filled the room. Your skin was warm under Spencer’s touch as his hands found their way to your hips, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin, exploring every inch with a deliberate slowness that left you both breathless.

The feeling of his hands on you was electric, a perfect blend of tenderness and urgency that made your heart race and your senses sing. Every touch, every caress, sent shivers of pleasure racing through your body, leaving you aching for more, your skin hypersensitive to every nuance of his touch.

Spencer’s hands traveled with a gentle insistence, mapping the contours of your body with a touch that was both reverent and possessive. You could feel the subtle tremor in his fingers, the heat of his palms as they pressed against your ass.

His breath was warm against your ear, his voice a low murmur as he whispered, “You’re so sexy.” The words sent a thrill through you, a spark that ignited a fire in your belly and left you yearning for more of his touch, more of the sensations that seemed to flood your senses with every passing moment.

You turned your head slightly, your lips finding his in a kiss that was equal parts tenderness and demand. The taste of him was intoxicating, a heady mix of warmth and spice that made your heart race and your senses reel.

Spencer pulled away, and you felt the bed shift as he repositioned himself behind you. The room was filled with a quiet hum of anticipation, the air thick with the charged tension between you. You could feel his gaze on you, a tangible heat that seemed to sear into your skin.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice a low, rumbling purr that sent a shiver down your spine. There was an earnestness in his question, a genuine desire to ensure that you were comfortable and ready.

“Positive, Doctor,” you replied, the words laced with playful confidence as you glanced over your shoulder to meet his gaze. The term of endearment had become a safeguard to you, not wanting to get too used to saying his name.

Spencer’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm and relief, a small, appreciative smile tugging at his lips. “Do you have a condom?” he asked, his tone laced with a hint of embarrassment as he admitted his unpreparedness.

“You don’t?” you teased, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief. It was a playful jab, meant to lighten the mood and add a touch of humor to the charged atmosphere.

“I didn’t expect this to happen…” Spencer admitted, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson as he chuckled awkwardly.

“That’s really sweet, actually,” you replied, your voice softening as you took in the sight of him. The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat, a reminder of why you had been drawn to him in the first place. “Yes, I do,” you confirmed, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “Let me up real quick.”

Spencer playfully groaned, a sound filled with exaggerated reluctance as he shifted to give you space. But before you could move, he leaned down, leaving a small, teasing bite on your asscheek—a cheeky gesture that sent a spark of pleasure through you.

“Down, boy!” you teased, your voice a mock admonishment as you slipped out of his grasp, your feet finding the floor with a soft thud. You cast a playful glance back at him, enjoying the sight of him sprawled on the bed, watching you while he pulled on his own cock.

As you turned back to the bed, condom in hand, you found Spencer watching you with an intensity that made your heart race. The way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—was both thrilling and humbling.

“Got it,” you announced, your voice a playful sing-song as you waved the packet in the air. Spencer’s eyes lit up with amusement, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he watched you return to the bed.

You climbed back onto the mattress, feeling the familiar give of the sheets beneath your knees as you settled in beside him. The warmth of his body was a comforting presence, a stark contrast to the cool air of the room that brushed against your skin.

Spencer reached for you, his touch gentle and insistent as he guided you back into position. His hands were warm against your skin, the chemistry seemed to crackle between you.

Spencer tore open the foil packet, the soft crinkle of the wrapper a prelude to the main event. You could smell the faint scent of latex from the condom, mingling with the lingering aroma of his cologne—a spicy, woodsy scent that was undeniably masculine and entirely Spencer.

Spencer moved with a practiced ease, his fingers deft and sure as he prepared himself, rolling the condom down with a kind of confident precision that spoke of experience. The sight of him handling himself with such ease sent a thrill racing through you, your breath catching at the implication. It was a heady rush of desire that made your heart race and your skin flush with heat.

As he finished, Spencer's eyes locked onto yours, a smoldering intensity burning within them that made your pulse quicken. The weight of his gaze was almost tangible, a touch that was as intimate as any caress. You could feel the desire radiating off of him.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. His tone was full of promise, a dark velvet sound that wrapped around you like a warm embrace, holding you captive in its depths.

“Yes,” you breathed, the word barely a whisper as it slipped from your lips, heavy with need. Your body ached for his touch, every fiber of your being attuned to the promise of pleasure that awaited you.

Spencer leaned forward, his hands finding your hips with a surety that left you breathless. His touch was firm and possessive, a silent promise of the pleasure he intended to deliver. You could feel the warmth of his skin against yours, a delicious contrast to the cool air that still lingered around you.

His lips brushed against your ear, a featherlight touch that sent a thrill racing through you, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I bet you feel as good as you taste,” he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. The confession was both intimate and incendiary, stoking the flames of your arousal until you were burning for him.

“Shit,” you whispered back, a high pitched sound that left your lips before you could think better of it. Spencer responded with a quiet, breathy chuckle that sent a shiver down your spine. His hands tightened on your hips, the pressure of his fingers was grounding.

He positioned himself at your entrance, the sensation sending a jolt through your body. The tip of him brushed against your core, a featherlight touch that made your breath catch and your heart race.

Slowly, carefully, he began to push forward, the pressure building with each inch as he entered you. The feeling was exquisite, a slow, delicious burn that stretched you around him, filling you completely. The friction was intoxicating, a perfect balance of pleasure and pressure that had you gasping for breath.

Spencer let out a low, shuddering moan as he sank into you, his fingers digging into your hips with a possessive urgency that left you breathless. The sound was raw and primal, a testament to the pleasure that coursed through him, mirrored in the sensations that raced through your own body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared breaths, a quiet combination of gasps and moans that mingled with the rustle of the sheets beneath you. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix making you hyper aware of every touch, every sensation.

As he began to move, Spencer set a steady, deliberate pace that left you reeling with sensation. Each thrust was a measured blend of power and precision, a rhythm that built slowly, methodically, until it had you teetering on the edge of control.

“You feel so fucking good,” Spencer breathed, his voice a low, gravelly growl that sent a thrill racing through you.

“So big,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to find words in the midst of the overwhelming sensations that flooded your senses. The feel of him moving inside you, the way he filled you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, leaving you breathless and aching for more.

Spencer’s hands moved with a purpose, tracing the curves of your body as he drove you higher, his touch both grounding and incendiary. You could feel the heat of his skin against yours, the way his muscles flexed with each movement, feeling the strength and control he wielded.

His lips found your neck, trailing a line of heated kisses along the sensitive skin that sent shivers down your spine. The feel of his mouth against your skin was electric, a tantalizing mix of heat and teeth that left you gasping for breath, your body arching into his touch.

The sensation of his body moving against yours, the delicious friction as he drove deeper, harder, was a pleasure that threatened to unravel you completely. Each thrust sent waves of ecstasy radiating through you.

“Spencer,” you gasped, the word slipping past your lips as a breathless plea, a desperate cry for more.

His response was immediate, his pace quickening as he drove into you, each movement a perfect blend of power and precision that left you on the brink of release. His hands tightened on your hips, his grip firm and possessive as he pulled you back to meet each of his thrusts. The sensation was overwhelming, a delicious friction that sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

You could feel the strength in his fingers, the way they dug into your flesh with each powerful motion, grounding you even as you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge. The heat of his hands against your skin was a stark contrast to the cool air of the room, adding another layer of sensation to the already heady mix.

The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the room, a symphony of wet, rhythmic slaps and breathless gasps that only heightened your arousal. Each thrust sent a new wave of pleasure rippling through you, building in intensity with every movement until you were teetering on the edge of control.

Spencer’s breath was hot against your ear, each exhale a ragged sigh that sent shivers down your spine. “How are you still so tight?” he groaned, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that resonated through your entire body. The words were a potent mix of praise and desire, pushing you even closer to the brink.

Your own breath came in short, ragged gasps, each inhale a struggle as you fought to hold on to your control. “Spencer,” you moaned, your body aching for release.

His response was a deep, primal growl that vibrated through his chest and into your back, his hips snapping forward with a renewed intensity that left you breathless. His hands guided your movements, pulling you back to meet each thrust with a force that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

The pressure within you built to a fever pitch, a tight coil that wound tighter and tighter with each powerful thrust. Your senses were overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the sensations, the feel of him driving into you, the sound of his voice in your ear, the taste of salt on your lips as you bit down, trying to hold on just a little longer.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Spencer groaned, his voice a rough, desperate sound that sent a thrill racing through you. “I’m so close.”

The admission was your undoing. The coil within you snapped, sending a wave of blinding ecstasy crashing over you. Your body tensed, every muscle tightening as you cried out, the sound raw and unrestrained as you surrendered to the overwhelming pleasure.

Spencer continued to move, driving you through the waves of your release with a steady, relentless rhythm that left you trembling and gasping for breath. The feeling of him moving inside you, filling you completely, was a pleasure that bordered on overwhelming, each thrust sending new ripples of sensation through your already oversensitive body.

As the aftershocks of your orgasm faded, Spencer’s pace grew more erratic, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You could feel the strain in his muscles, the way his fingers dug into your hips with a new urgency.

“Spencer,” you whispered, your voice a soft, breathless plea as you turned your head to catch his gaze. The look in his eyes was a perfect reflection of the intensity you felt, raw desire and desperate need that sent another wave of heat through you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Spencer buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he reached his own release. The sound of his pleasure—a low, guttural groan—sent a shiver of satisfaction through you.

The room was filled with the quiet sounds of your mingled breaths, a soft, rhythmic counterpoint to the fading echoes of your shared passion. Spencer’s grip on your hips softened, his touch becoming a gentle caress as he leaned forward, pressing a tender kiss to the nape of your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice a soft, reverent murmur that sent a final shiver of pleasure through you.

You turned your head to meet his gaze, a satisfied smile playing on your lips as you caught your breath. “So are you, Doctor.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with affection and lingering desire as he gently helped you shift to a more comfortable position. The warmth of his body against yours was soothing, a perfect counterpoint to the lingering heat of your shared passion. You nestled into his embrace, feeling a sense of peace and contentment settle over you as you allowed yourself to relax in his arms.

The steady rhythm of his breathing, the comforting weight of his presence, lulled you into a state of drowsy contentment. You felt safe and secure in his arms, the events of the night playing through your mind in a haze of satisfaction and warmth.

Slowly, the pull of sleep became too strong to resist, and you allowed yourself to drift off, cocooned in the comforting embrace of the man who had brought you such intense pleasure. The last thing you remembered before slipping into the depths of slumber was the gentle press of Spencer's lips against your forehead, a tender kiss that spoke volumes.

—

Morning came all too soon, the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over the room. You woke slowly, the memories of the night before still vivid in your mind as you lay in the warmth of Spencer's embrace. For a moment, you allowed yourself to savor the feeling, the sense of belonging that came from being wrapped in his arms.

But reality soon intruded, and you knew that you couldn't stay. With a quiet sigh, you carefully extricated yourself from his embrace, moving with practiced ease to avoid waking him. Spencer's face was peaceful in sleep, a small smile playing on his lips that made your heart ache with affection and regret.

You knew he’d be confused when he woke up in your apartment alone. The realization that you had made a mistake by bringing him here weighed heavily on you. You quickly dressed, the rustle of your clothes sounding loud in the otherwise silent room. Every movement felt like a betrayal, a departure from the intimacy you had shared just hours before.

Grabbing a sticky note pad and a pen from your desk, your mind raced as you tried to think of what to write. The pen felt heavy in your hand, the blank surface of the note a stark reminder of the conversation you couldn't have face to face.

Spencer, you wrote, your handwriting shaky and rushed, Thank you for last night. There’s a key under the mat, please lock the door on your way out. Take care.

You placed the note where he would see it, the yellow square stark against the dark wood of your dresser. You stood there for a moment, taking in the sight of him one last time, memorizing the peaceful curve of his lips, the way his hair fell across his forehead.

With a heavy heart, you turned and quietly left the room. You headed for a friend's house, your thoughts a tangled mess of emotions. You needed to stay busy, to distract yourself until you were sure Spencer had left your apartment. As you knocked on the door, you resolved to cherish the memory of the night you had shared with Spencer, even as you moved forward with your life.

—

It had been a month since Spencer's encounter with you. At first, he was extremely confused and hurt, thinking there was a real spark between the two of you. Upon leaving your apartment that morning, he realized he never got your last name or your phone number. He didn't even know your address properly. Technically, he could figure it out quite easily, but he knew if you wanted him to talk to you again, you would have stayed.

For about two weeks, he thought about you every day and night, replaying the moments you shared and trying to understand what went wrong. Initially, he was sad, then worried something might have happened, and finally, he became livid at the thought that you might have used him. But now, it had been a month, and he had resigned himself to forget you and move on with his life.

Back to regular life, Spencer walked into the bullpen, immediately sensing something unusual. Everyone was not-so-subtly glancing toward Hotch’s office, their expressions twisted with curiosity and surprise.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.

“There’s a woman in Hotch’s office,” Emily replied, her eyes flicking toward the closed door.

“Okay?” Spencer prompted, waiting for more context.

“She knew my name, man,” Derek added, sounding both impressed and slightly confused.

“Uh oh, did you forget one of your many lovers?” Spencer joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not cool, kid. I’d remember a pretty face like hers,” Derek said, shaking his head.

“How else would she know you?” Emily asked, her curiosity mirroring Spencer’s.

Just then, the door to Hotch’s office opened, and you stepped out, accompanied by Aaron. “Guys, this is Agent Y/N Y/L,” Hotch said, introducing you to the team. “She will be joining us while JJ is on maternity leave.”

Spencer’s heart stopped as he saw you. He felt all the blood drain from his face, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm him. There you were, the woman who had loved him and then left him without a trace, now standing in front of him in the bullpen.

You seemed calm and composed, completely unaware of the storm raging inside Spencer. You gave a polite smile and nodded at the team, your eyes briefly locking with Spencer’s before moving on, not recognizing him immediately, or not caring.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, your voice steady and professional. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

The rest of the team greeted you warmly, exchanging pleasantries, while Spencer remained rooted to his spot, his mind racing. Finally, your eyes fell on him and really looked.

“Hi, Doctor,” you said calmly, your voice steady and composed.

“Y/N,” he replied, his tone clipped and strained.

“Hold up, do you two know each other?” Derek asked, his curiosity piqued.

“I remember you!” Penelope cut in, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “You were at the Doctor Who convention! Madame de Pompadour! You looked beautiful.”

“Thank you!” you responded with a warm smile. “I don’t recall meeting you, I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, we didn’t meet, sweetie,” Penelope giggled kindly. “I saw you talking to Reid here.”

“Ah,” you said, a hint of realization dawning in your eyes as you glanced back at Spencer.

The strain between you and Spencer was tangible, the air thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Spencer’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, trying to process the fact that you were now standing in front of him, a part of his professional life.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Emily asked, her eyes darting between the two of you.

“We… met at the convention,” Spencer said, his voice strained as he struggled to keep his emotions in check.

“Yes, we did,” you confirmed, keeping your tone neutral. “It was a brief encounter.”

Spencer's jaw tightened at your choice of words, the hurt and confusion from a month ago resurfacing with a vengeance. He knew he had to keep it together, at least for now, but the unresolved feelings were making it difficult.

“Small world, huh?” Derek said with a chuckle, oblivious to the undercurrents of tension.

“Indeed,” you replied, your eyes flicking back to Spencer. “I’m looking forward to working with all of you.”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his mind still racing with questions and emotions. He knew he needed to talk to you, to get some answers, but now wasn’t the time. He would have to wait for a more private moment to confront you about what had happened.

For now, he had to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside his personal turmoil to maintain his professionalism. But as he watched you interact with the rest of the team, he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was far from over.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna

461 notes · View notes

sobfultoast · 9 months ago

Text

•°~* Careful Touches *~°•

Prompt: Touching their demonic features (Wings/Tails).

Characters: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor.

(This is my first one. It ain't the best, idk. Lol)

Being human, it was only natural that you'd be curious about what makes the brothers different from yourself, like their horns and such.

Whenever they were in their demonic forms, you couldn't help but stare at them with fascination. You just had to say something...

"They're beautiful... Can I touch your wings/tail?"

• ° ~ * ~ ° •

Lucifer

"You want to touch my wings? I always knew you were brave."

Lucifer doesn't just let anyone touch his wings. They must be people he trusts and respects. Out of all three realms, there are only 5 beings who have laid a hand on his wings and are still alive: Diavolo, Mammon, Michael, Simeon, and now you.

Lucifer's wings are dense with soft, fluffy feathers. It's so thick with feathers that you can't see your fingers anymore as you sink your hand. Be gentle with your strokes, while his feathers are as resilient as him, it can still cause him discomfort if handled roughly.

As you pet his wings, he physically relaxes. Letting out a heavy sigh, his composure becomes less strict. He feels vulnerable, but he thinks that he is okay with that. It was an intimate experience for him as he doesn't particularly like his wings. They hold a painful past to him, but you said they look beautiful... Someone can see the beauty in something he can't. Someone can see the beauty in his past, and that means the world to him.

You'll see him letting his wings unfurl more often when it is just the two of you. A cursed record playing in the background, he is working on paperwork with you on his lap, stroking his wings. It's soothing.

Mammon

"Eh? My wings? B-beautiful? Of course, ya think my wings are beautiful! They belong to the great Mammon after all!"

Mammon went bright red, but that didn't matter to him. His human thinks his wings are beautiful! Damn, right! Of course, you can touch his wings, and don't stop until he says so!

Mammom's wings are smooth but rough like leather. He uses a certain wax to make them sleek and shine. He has to look good. He is a model, after all.

As you stroke his wings, he started to squirm? Laugh? He almost pushed you away in a giggle fit. Turns out, he is very ticklish on his wings. It's more sensitive near the base of his wings, and it's the easiest place to tickle him to tears. He has noted to himself to never to let you touch his wings when you have that mischievous look on your face.

He likes using his wings to get your attention, especially now that he knows you like them. He'll walk around the house with his wings out, and he'll try to make it look like he is naturally stretching them, but we all know he's forcing it. He'll wrap them around you more often, using it to guide you closer to him. If you ask him about it, he'll deny it in his tsudere fashion but continues.

He has also bragged about it to everyone. Everyone. "Hey, guess what! My human said these wings are beautiful! Ya hear? What did they say to ya? Nothin'? that's what I thought."

Leviathan

"H-huh?! B-beautiful? You think my tail is beautiful?! Y-you must be lying. This must be one of your normie tricks!"

Leviathan went straight to denial. No way do you like his tail! His tail is such an eye-sore, he tells himself, why can't it be as dangerous as Satan's or as cute as Belphagor's? There is no way— W-wait, YOU'RE SERIOUS?! Once you assure him that you're serious and you'd love to touch his tail, he goes bright red and quiet. Give him a moment, and he'll slowly lift his tail towards you. He looks away, still hesitant. You have a feeling that if you don't stroke his tail now, you might affirm his thoughts and make him cry.

Levi's tail is smooth, and your hand glides over his scales. The scales themselves give his tail a nice and unique texture. It rattles with nervousness, but once you praise it, he'll melt into putty.

Levi is more comfortable having his tail out now, which also means you will be finding that tail wrapping itself around you more, too. It has a mind of its own that always betrays his tsudere act. He'll swear he'll never fall for your normie tactics while his tail is slithering its way up your thigh and waist.

It gets more clingy to you the more you pet and praise it. He still has days where he hates his tail, but you are always there to adore it.

Satan

"I don't think that would be a smart idea..."

Satan's tail is as dangerous as his wits. It has razor-sharp edges that have shown Satan its strength in fights and fits of rage. He hates the thought of hurting you, no matter how much you want to touch it.

Even if somehow you have managed to convince him that he won't hurt you, he is still hesitant. He keeps plasters and bandages on standby as you gently press your finger on his tail. The tales aren't false. A light press, and you can already feel how sharp it is. Press any harder, and you'll cut yourself. It makes a rattle noise when it moves, like two bones hitting each other.

After you pet his tail without hurting yourself, he'll be slightly more relaxed with it. He's still wary, though.

So, no tail hugs like Leviathan or Belphegor. Sorry :(

Asmodeus

"Oh, hon! I know they're beautiful! And of course you can touch them. You don't have to ask, I don't bite. Unless you'd like that~"

Asmodeus' wings are drop-dead gorgeous! Of course, you'd stare at their beauty. You don't ever have to ask to touch his wings as he'll probably ask you to touch them often.

Asmo's wings are soft and smooth, like his porcelain skin. They would have been like Mammon's leathery wings if Asmo didn't dose his own wings with skin-care and wing-care products. A very nice texture to touch. His wings flutter with excitement when you pet them. He just can't help it!

Most times, when you pet his wings, it can quickly take a spicy turn. How can he not when you are caressing him so sensually?! But, he does slightly prefer the more domestic feeling of cuddling with his favourite person (other than himself) with them showering him in affection. The only thing he really ever wants...

He spends so long on his wings' care because he really misses his old wings. They were so pure and beautiful. Now they're dull... To make up with that, he has a 2 hour care routine, per wing, that he does every week. If you would like, he can show you his wing-care routine, and you can help him too! He'd love that! He has 4 wings, and caring for each of them is a time exhausting task. He appreciates that you take time out of your day to help him.

Beelzebub

"Yes. You can. Just... Be careful with them..."

Beelzebub's wings are delicate, despite the rest of him. His insect wings can easily tear, but fortunately, his wings regenerate quickly. It's still painful. Because of this, he very nervous at letting people touch them, but he knows you won't purposely hurt him.

Beel's wings are thin. It's kind of hard to pet them. Doesn't mean you can't have a closer look to something so different from anything else you have seen. His wings make a buzzing noise when he flaps them really fast. The same buzz makes most buffets in devildom have flashbacks.

His wings are too weak to make him fly. Have you seen him? There is no way those thin wings can make that buff bloke fly! If anything, it might let him glide or hover for a short time for sports. He has to buzz them really quick to do that, so when he is attempting to hover, a big gush of wind happens and it is able to send you flying.

Beelzebub is happy you like his wings, but he is sad that you can't really pet them like the other brothers. It is what it is.

Belphegor

"Really? Huh... You're werid. You can touch it if you let me use you as a cushion."

Now you have a lazy demon napping on your lap, and he is not moving no matter how much you try. I mean, a free nap spot and free pets. How can he say no?

The base of his tail is rough fur, and the end is very fluffy, a perfect pillow, but it's really knotty as he is too lazy to care for it. Maybe you can brush it? He'll let you brush it. It saves him from getting scolded at by Lucifer or Asmodeus for not looking after himself because he was lazy. Once you've brushed it, it poofs up and becomes all fuzzy.

Unlike Satan's and Levi's tail, Belphie can't control his tail, so he can't use them as another arm or weapon. The most he can do with his tail is wag it like a cow would do.

Belphie also trips on his tail a lot. When Belphie falls over, he doesn't get up. He just lays there and waits. He waits until one of his brothers or you pick him up. It's the main reason why he carries his tail, not cause it's a fluffy pillow. It being like a fluffy pillow is just a happy little coincidence.

•°~* Have a lovely day! *~°•

#obey me satan #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me beelzebub #om belphegor #om mammon #om leviathan #om satan #om lucifer #om beelzebub #om asmodeus

512 notes · View notes

meo-eiru · 4 months ago

Note

It's kinda sad tbh!! Knowing that Elian is literally nothing without his looks,, literally feeling unwelcomed or invalidated to anything if you aren't pretty enough it's literally everything to him I so agree w the person analyzing him !!! But what I am curious about though is his darling. What if darling were to be the same? Like also pretty co-dependent, self destructive, etc. Or what if they were to find joy in just.. Idk!! Sadist stuff , since he literally revolves around them. I think a darling who's also almost the exact same as him would be interesting, literally two people destroying each other what if one went away? Etc etc. I love angst ohmy. Or what if darling was the exact opposite? A good life, successful, basically everything he doesn't have. Would he be jealous or worship them?? What if darling just idk uses him as a trophy and stuff,, or basically neglects him, what if darling were to get angry easily? At him, maybe. Saying how useless he is and all. What if darling was bipolar?? Σ(゜゜) I love toxic relationships like how they turn out and how it effects the people in it especially YK the vampire yandere since it's literally just self destruction,, STOP THAT REMINDS ME WHAT IF VAMPIRE YANS DARLING WERE ALSO LIKE A PEOPLE PLEASER? giving all their blood to him with no complaint,, like very insistent yk, like almost the exact replica of him. Backflips away

Elias character analyses

Oh god all of these scenarios sound so delicious I don’t know where to start.

I love the idea of a darling who is similar to him nature. As obsessed with him as he is with them, being co-dependent together.

Elias loves being loved by you. Your affection is what makes him feel alive. He wants you to call him pretty and cherish him. Choose clothes for him and praise him like a doll who exists to be loved by you.

But he’s just so very insecure, he believes you could abandon him very easily so he experiences very aggressive jealousy fits. So a darling who’s equally obsessed with him sounds like it could balance things out. One that keeps their eye on him all the time, one that love bombs him constantly.

But as sweet as it sounds too much of anything is unhealthy. I’m afraid that co-dependance might break them both in the long run. Elias will probably want more and more no matter how much love you give him. Once he gets used to receiving your love he’ll probably start fearing that it’s some sort of momentary happiness and you could disappear at any moment. He’ll be paranoid. He might push you into quitting your job and staying with him inside the house 24/7 because any moment he’s not in contact with you makes him anxious.

But what if darling keeps pouring in love without getting tired? What if they are ok with giving up on everything just to spoil Elias? I think they will be happy. They will be very happy in fact. But I feel like they’ll be happy in the way drunk people are. It’s like a daze, an impossibly perfect dream. Elias might slowly start to lose the small amount of humanity he has and become completely doll like. Just a soulless, endless black hole of a creature that’ll take and take and take all the love you give him.

A sadistic (and probably rich) darling who uses him like some sort of trophy is also fun. He’s like a pretty accessory for them to carry around, like a handbag. I feel like for a long long time Elias would do everything in his power to please them. He would perfect his appearance to insane levels. He exists to be pretty for you, to elevate your standing, he can’t risk ever being imperfect in the public eye because it would damage you as well. And Elias wants you to be proud of him, he wants you to tell him you are proud of him and that he’s the most beautiful thing you own.

But maybe instead you put him down. You damage his ego to keep him where he is. Prevent him from trying to climb up to your level. Maybe you think he should stay the way he is, a thing that exists to make you look better. He’s beautiful and that’s all he should be.

But Elias is pretty crazy at the end of the day. He can only take it for so long. Elias is very petty and he wants you to love him.

At one point it infuriates him. You are so perfect. You are so successful in life, you are loved by people, you are beautiful, you are amazing, you are just so… perfect. And Elias doesn’t want that. The fact that you have everything he doesn’t, the fact that everyone else gets to see your perfectness, the way you put him down no matter how hard he tries.

Maybe you could love him if he pulled you down to his level.

He might start some gossips about you. He might lie about your business practices or some dating scandal. He might use his pretty face to act like a victim who was abused by you. And once you lose your money, your power, your status, your everything… Elias will welcome you back with open arms. You also have nothing now, just like him. Surely you can love him with all your heart now?

I forgive you but I don’t know if Elias will😔

#asks #elias #yandere pretty boyfriend #yandere pretty boyfriend x reader

320 notes · View notes

sylvia-plaths-fig-pie · 5 months ago

Text

Kiss Me ♡ Sam Winchester

Pairing: Sam winchester x reader

Warnings: no use of y/n, I'm very dyslexic so idk witch which is witch, not proof read, I wrote this in an hour? Help, kiss, idk what else to put, this may not make sense but I just needed to write something and all my wips bored me so ✨️tada✨️

Summary: a witch cursed Sam to only awake with a true loves kiss, so naturally Dean calls you, the only problem is you haven't seen the Winchesters in 5 years.

You swore that you would never see the Winchesters again.

That was the only thing that you promised yourself. The one rule you could never break.

As a hunter you don't get a lot of garentees in life, you get close to zero, but this was your one none negotiable rule and everyone knew that.

Which is why you were cursing yourself as you drove down the highway, going at a very illegal speed trying to get to the winchesters as fast as possible.

Or more accurately to one spefic Winchester in particular.

Sam Winchester.

Dean had called you not even an hour ago, you hadn't picked up the fist 5 times, but on the 6th ring you figured it must be important.

He wasn't making alot of sense, but one thing was clear, Sam was in trouble and he needed you.

The winchesters being in trouble wasn't anything new, in fact it was the norm, but this seemed diffrent, it had to be diffrent otherwise you wouldn't have been called. Dean never called you even when you worked together, it was always sam. You and Dean didn't realy get along, it's not that you hated eachother, but you were both weary of eachother. And both of your concerns arose form the same factor, Sam. It was a safe assumption to say that you both cared for Sam, but unfortunately that ment that you often clashed.

But that's all in the past. Because you hadn't spoken to them in years. You hadn't seen Dean or Sam in 5 years. Yet here you were knocking on the door to the address of a motel that Dean frantically gave you over the phone.

"Hi-" you awkwardly began to sat as Dean opened the door, but you were quickly cut off.

"This is going to sound insane but right now I don’t have time to explain." Dean began, as he basically dragged you inside to where Sam lay unconscious on one of the cheap motel beds.

"Can you just kiss him?" Dean bluntly asked looking you in the eyes.

You were completely taken back by the forwardness of his request.

"What?" You muttered, glancing quickly to Sam, laying almost lifeless on the bed. He looked bad. You wouldn't have known he was alive if his chest didn't fall up and down ever so slightly.

As if reading your mind dean began to speak again. "And quickly as he might actually die soon."

"Sorry I'm a bit confused, why-" you began but were quickly cut off again.

"A witch, obsessed with fairy tales, cursed him like sleeping beauty or some princess shit and I thought killing the bitch would end the curse I was wrong so you need to kiss him."

Your head wad spinning. If it was sleeping beauty then that ment that...

That couldn't be true, could it?

No that made no sense you hadn't seen the younger of the brothers in 5 years. He was probably so diffrent. He could have lost his boyish smile. Or his perfect hair. Or his humour. Or-

"That doesn't explain why I specifically-" you began, but just as before you were cut off by Dean.

"Cut the bullshit, and just kiss him. I can waste time explaining but sammy is dieing, please. I just know that this will work, it has to, you look at him like I look-" he stopped himself, sighing almost lost in thought. "It doesn't matter just kiss him goddammit!" He practically shouted.

"Sorry," he mumbled, "just hurry up, I'll be outside."

With that he turned his back and slayed the motel door behind him as he left.

He left you alone with Sam.

Sam.

He looked terrible. He looked dead. It broke your heart. You could have stopped this. If you had just been there. If you'd had stayed....

No. You couldn't have.

You and Sam said things to eachother that you should have never said, and it ended up with you waking up in his bed. And you couldn't do that. Neither of you could. So you had to leave. And that's exactly what you did.

And that's when your rule stared. You told Bobby to never put you on a hunt with them or you wouldn't show.

Your rule spread like wild fire and soon it was a common known fact that you didn't hunt with the winchesters. No one knew why, but no one questioned it, especially given the winchesters track record.

Yet here you are, 5 years down the line, breaking your one rule.

You walked over to the edge of the bed to where Sam lay.

"I'm so sorry." You whispered. You didn't know exactly what you apologising for. Kissing Sam or for everything before this moment.

Closing your eyes you tentatively leaned forward and gently pressed your lips to his for a brief second before pulling away.

He didn't move.

No, no, no no. This couldn't be happening.

You reached to grab his hand, waeving your fingers between his.

"Come on Sam, please wake up." You pleaded as tears began to fill your eyes. How could you be so stupid? You left hom for 5 years, he could have been dead for that whole time and you would have had no idea.

"Please..." you sobbed as you rested your head on his chest.

You felt numb. It felt like you had just been stabbed in the chest and someone kept twisting the knife.

Gently a hand started stroking your hair.

Your head jolted up.

There he was, eyes open, a small smile on his lips.

"Hi love," he bearly whispered, half confused half over joyed.

"Sam!" You cried and you flung your arms round his neck, "you scared me you son of a bitch."

"What are you...?" He began but trailed off.

"Dean called." You answered, quickly remembering the whole situation, pulling shyly away from Sam.

"You came?" He sounded shocked.

"You needed my help."

"I thought-"

"Yeah you made me break my one rule Sam so...?"

A silence fell over the pair of you. You couldn't look him in the eyes. God you felt awkward.

"It was a pretty crap rule." He mumbled, looking directly at you, a half smile playing on his lips.

"I had good reason for it I mean-" you began.

"You ran away beacsue you were scared." He said matter of fact way, his eyes showing his hurt.

"I hunt monsters for a living I doubt that I was scared of some feelings, they're hardly spooky." You laughed. It was painfully obviously forced.

"So why did you leave then?"

You couldn't answer his question. He was right. You were scared. Scared of what you felt for him. And back then it felt like a valid reason. But right now, you felt stupid.

"You know what the curse was don't you?" He asked.

"Sam I-"

"It was the cliche of a true loves kiss. The witch said it didn't exist so I was destined to die."

You stayed silent, you couldn't look at him. You knew what it ment. You both did.

"Yet here I am, here you are." He said as though he was proving evidence in court. You were evidence of true love. After 5 years of not seeing eachother, you both still were irrevocably in love with one another. It was true love.

"Here I am." You agreed, finally meeting his eyes. "So now what?" You asked tentatively.

You were both quiet then. His smile only grew as he leaned closer to you.

"I think it's time you got rid of your stupid rule." He whispered in your ear.

"Why should I do that?" You pulled away, a matching smile on your face.

His smile softened as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"So that way I can wake up with you beside me, instead of you just living inside my dreams. So I can hold on to you instead of just our memories. So you can kiss me all the time and not just beacsue I'm dieing."

"That does seem like a valid reason, you got anymore?"

"Because I know, even after 5 years, you still feel the same way I do"

"And what's that?"

"I love you."

You were only inches away from his face now. You could feel his breath on your skin. He leaned on closer pressing his lips to yours.

His lips felt so familiar it almost hurt. It felt right. This is where you needed to be, this is where you should have been for five whole years.

You let yourself sink into his embrace as his hands flattened against your spine, drawing you impossibly closer.

His breathing had become more strained; his muscles tensed as he deemed the kiss, your hands finding their way into his hair.

You didn't want to stop,you couldn't, and judging by Sam's reaction to your touch he couldn't either.

"Have you-?" Neither of you hear the door to the motel open as Dean basically ran in. "Oh jesus my eyes, sammy I'm glad you're okay but fucking hell!" He quickly truned on his heels, overdramtically covering his eyes. "Use protection!" He shouted just before he closed the door, muttering under his breath 'these darm kids' as though he were a middle aged man.

You and Sam just looked at eachother for a singular moment before bursting into laughter.

"I might ammend my rule slightly..." you said after a few deep breaths.

"How so?" He asked leaning in closer to you once more.

"I now swear that I'll see the winchesters everyday, or at least one spefic Winchester everyday."

256 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 1 year ago

Text

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ VIGNETTES — levi ackerman

contents. sfw, mention of pregnancy & marriage, angst, maybe unrequited love, fem!reader, 1.8k

notes. there is no dialogue in this, and it's purely poetic and prose because i wanted to do something different & levi is very important to me. posting this before i get nervous bc i feel as if i have poured too much of myself into this. idk if anyone will want to read it, but enjoy anyway !

you fell in love with levi ackerman the moment you met him.

you fell in love with him in the underground, when you were both still young, his brashness and strength intimidating to even you, a member of the survey corps. the way your eyes had met through the filth and the grime, levi restrained, teeth bared, an image of a flame that refused to be put out. against every intelligent bone in your body, your heart had stuttered in your chest at the fierceness in his deep blue eyes, the way that, even when he was narrowing his gaze at you with something of hatred, he was still the most beautiful man you’d ever seen.

you fell in love with him in training, when you watched a man who had never had any proper guidance become the strongest soldier that the survey corps had ever seen. levi was at home in the skies, free from the restraints and the waste that he had been born into, a natural when it came to odm gear. though he scoffed at you every time you tried to give him any pointers, you still felt some warmth in your face—he never needed any advice from you, anyway. it was just an excuse to talk to him.

you fell in love with him when he lost his friends, the first time you’d had a conversation with him that didn’t end in a sour remark, an expression that made you think he saw you as nothing more than a military pawn. you’d let your mouth fall open, and then you’d shut it, a mumble of condolences coming out, before you’d admitted, hastily, that you knew what it was like to lose your only friends. but something changed in levi after the death of furlan and isabel—he wasn’t just a flame, he was a forest fire, rearing bright and deadly.

you fell in love with him when he became a captain, a man of status that allowed him to hand pick the members of his squad. and though you thought you’d be stuck where you were, not standing a chance to be chosen for a squad of the strongest scouts, you’d been the first on levi’s list. perhaps, it was only because of the kinship he felt towards you, but you’d never be able to forget the way you’d smiled on your way home from the meeting, your new assignment reigniting the sort of giddiness you hadn’t felt since you were a schoolgirl with a crush.

you fell in love with him when you understood him. when the bite that followed the end of his every sentence didn’t seem so menacing, so sharp when you realized that your words held just the same amount of bitterness. his quips, dripping with sarcasm, fell on your ears lightly, bringing a smile to your lips, spreading across your teeth as everyone else stared back at him like he’d grown two heads. levi would meet your gaze across the room and you’d swap a secret, a loathing for the system, even if you’d always be grateful that it brought you together.

you fell in love with him even when someone else proposed to you, a member of another squad that had been in love with you since you were cadets. where he’d gotten the courage after all those years, you weren’t sure. perhaps it was because he’d seen the way you stared at levi, or maybe it was because you drew closer to death every time you ventured outside the walls. you’d said yes in a panic, a regret that you’d never forget, because you were so afraid of being alone that you’d never considered that levi might have loved you too.

you fell in love with him when eren jaeger came into the picture, and suddenly, all your quiet moments with levi didn’t seem to mean a thing, not when there was a new hope for humanity, and if you could just save this boy, keep him alive, then maybe you could be free. but levi turned a blind eye to you once you got married. his secret smiles were sparse, his eyes darkening when he lost soldier after soldier, but never you. suddenly, you were the last of the levi's original squad, but you might as well have been dead too, for you felt like a ghost in your own unit.

you fell in love with him even when a ring rested on your finger, a glittering gold band that was too pretty to be worn by a such a gruesome soldier. levi’s eyes drew to it, sometimes, and it sickened you, made you want to cut off your own finger and feed it to a titan, because how shameful it was to have given yourself over to something you had never wanted. you went home to your husband, the one you didn’t love, and dreamed of a man with pretty blue eyes, born from nothing and known by all.

you’d always be in love with levi ackerman. he’d just never be in love with you.

levi ackerman fell in love with you the moment he met you.

he fell in love with you in the underground, the emotion hitting him like a tidal wave, unfamiliar after years of feeling nothing but the need to survive. when his eyes lifted, finally meeting yours with just feet between you, the sight of you had nearly taken his breath away. you were beautiful, more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen in his entire life, and suddenly, he understood how furlan could drone on and on about the woman he’d slept with, because levi could’ve written paragraphs about the way your steel coated tenderness could force even the strongest men to their knees.

he fell in love with you in training, when you moved so smoothly, with so much more gracefulness than levi’s brash, aggressive movements. levi knew he’d picked up most things better and faster than anyone in the survey corps, but he was certain he didn’t look as angelic as you did slicing through the neck of a titan. perhaps he didn’t understand the reason you so dutifully followed orders, turning a blind eye to the darker side of the military. yet, there was something about you, something that drew levi to you and made him wonder if there was more to your polite smiles and softened voice that he wasn’t catching onto.

he fell in love with you when he lost his friends, and you were the first person to acknowledge that he was, truly, alone. no attempts were made to sugarcoat it, to say that at least you still have the scouts, when none of them could’ve understood the depth of levi’s pain, the way he’d dreamt a better life for isabel and furlan that would never come to pass. your smile was, he’d thought, brighter than even the sun, the fiery emblem that he’d longed for his entire life. maybe the two of you were bad at understanding each other, but levi loved listening to you… even when you didn’t quite love listening to yourself. he could’ve sat for hours and heard everything you had to say, for you kept it to yourself too often.

he fell in love with you when he became a captain, and he knew that he’d do anything to keep you close to him. you were a puzzle he couldn’t unravel, hot and cold and everything in between. you were a beacon of light, warm and welcoming, and yet, you kept people at a distance, facing the dark side of the planets that no one but you could see. you were gracious and caring, vocal about your hope for humanity, sparing love where you could, even if you shied away from it. there was something gentle about you, but when levi made a crude remark, you were the first to laugh, the first to drop your guard and speak to him without the upbeat inflection in your voice.

he fell in love with you when he understood you, and he saw that whatever hollow shape his heart had turned into, yours slotted right within it. there was something about you that was the same, your souls crafted from one star, slowly dying, but burning bright, intimidating and loathsome, all at once. if levi believed in soulmates, in the fate that was written in the constellations, he was certain yours would’ve been intertwined, beautiful and lonely, sides of a coin that seemed the very same.

he fell in love with you when someone else proposed to you, the expression on your face telling levi everything he needed to known. you could’ve been happy with that man—he was cheerful and tender, loving and sweet—everything that levi was not. a human obvious with his affections, and perhaps, levi had been wrong all these years in thinking that you were the one for him. how could you be, when he saw the way your fiancé worshipped the very ground you walked on, kissed you without caring who was watching. levi could never be that sort of man. not when he was so private and silent, his love shown only in the way he protected you without fail, spoke to you in secrets he would never share with anyone else.

he fell in love with you when eren jaeger came into the picture, and levi screwed his head back on straight, deciding he could no longer pine for a woman that was already married. he threw his mind back into a war, reminding himself that happiness was fleeting, but loneliness was not, and he needed to get used to that. levi lost the members of his squad, people he'd grown to call friends. still, he refused to speak with you, because he knew that he was a weak man. a softly spoken word from your lips would’ve broken everything levi had worked to protect himself from, the gripping emotion within his heart that wouldn't leave unless it cut it out with your own blade.

he fell in love with you even when a ring rested on your finger, and you requested to leave the scouts because you were expecting a child. levi tried to stop his face from falling, tried to ignore the twisting of his chest. because, maybe, he’d stood a chance when there was nothing but a sheet of paper protecting your marriage, but a child...? levi ackerman was a selfish man, but not to that point. not when he knew he’d be a terrible father anyway, that he was a fool for thinking that was a life he deserved. levi accepted your request, and then asked you be taken off his squad if you ever chose to return. erwin, for all his lack of tact, had said nothing, simply nodding at levi with something akin to pity.

levi would always be in love with you. you’d just never be in love with him.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x female reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #xoxo rylie 💌 ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆#levi ackerman angst #levi ackerman x fem!reader #levi imagine #levi headcanons #levi drabble #aot x female reader #aot x reader #aot x you #snk x reader #snk x you #attack on titan x female reader #attack on titan fanfiction #xoxo rylie 💌 ⋆ ˚｡⋆

544 notes · View notes

bakugoushotwife · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober day twenty-five: biting kink

>>> oh yeah i got a new laptop! went back in and reformatted the other days so hopefully they aren't an eyesore but we back on track with choso here :)) he's so.....yum...he's so....biting coded idk

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!f!reader >>> cw: sorta dark content just to be safe, biting, a little blood, one spank, spitting, oral (f!receiving), doggy, uh kinda yandere coded i suppose, one kinda baby-trapping comment >>> wc: 3.3k >>> event masterlist:

choso is a family oriented man. it’s at the core of who he is, and everyone knows how important his family is to him—no matter how small said family was. his brother yuji meant a lot to him as his only “blood” relation and closest friend. he loves the guy more than anything. or, he thought he did. that was easy to say until he met you of course. choso was new to life despite his soul being over a hundred years old, and he had never experienced the emotions you bring him. the joy, the excitement, the true love. it amazes him and he’s still not quite used to all of it just yet, despite the several years that you’ve been together.

you met through yuji during the height of his woes of war and the inner battles he fought against his own cursed brain—toeing the line between human and monster. at some point, he made peace with not belonging. he knew that yuji loves him and that was really all he needed. he didn’t have to relate to yuji’s struggles. his perfectly human issues, like running behind on laundry now that fushiguro is on a mission and isn’t hounding him to do it. he didn’t have to relate to the emotions of love and worry and anxiety or jealousy, not until yuji introduced him to a fellow sorcerer—a kyoto school alumni. you were radiant. like a captive ray of sunshine. he hadn’t experienced such warmth in his chest, blossoming across his face. what was this? he missed your name. he was too busy panicking over introducing himself and how he would do so that he’s already made a complete fool of himself by the time he bows at the shoulders and gives you a gentle whisper of his name.

you miss his name too, he was much too quiet. you look to yuji, and he clarifies. “my brother, choso. the one i was telling you about!” he pats your back, and you do remember him telling you about his older sibling. by the time choso’s lifted back to his regular posture, he’s convinced yuji’s probably only revealed the most embarrassing things about him and that you would be put off just by the knowledge of what he is. but when he looks at you again, you’re smiling. you give him your hand instead of bowing, repeating your name and cheerfully offering to show him around kyoto city.

he was so glad he accepted. that warmth in his chest never went away. you were so addictive. you didn’t bat an eye at his awkwardness and you seemingly took pleasure in teaching him any gaps he had yet to experience. that day, when you showed him around the city–he had no clue what it was that he felt for you. he followed you around your town, touring shops and exploring scenery with you, with no trace of embarrassment. you were easy to get along with, naturally talkative and entertaining—he learned a lot about you that night. you were captivating. you were standing at a natural pond, pointing out some cranes and spouting off facts about their mating cycles. he had no clue what half of it really meant, but he liked the sound of your voice and the excitement shimmering in your eyes. he knew he wanted to feel this warmth again. he never wanted it to go away—his body was buzzing with the feeling of being alive. he’d never had that before. it was you, it had to be you, maybe that was your cursed technique. but either way, choso was hooked.

“you’re beautiful.” he blurted out in the middle of your educational rant, and he’s not sure what made him say so. clearly you were gorgeous—but the confidence to confess it was something he was sure he would lack forever. maybe his brother had rubbed off on him, after all yuji was very outward with his affection for his boyfriend. but you weren’t choso’s anything. he just met you. and if he hadn’t left an awful first impression, he was sure he had made things way to awkward for a first interaction now.

but you giggle. he likes the sound. it was warm like that feeling in his chest. you turn to give him your attention then, and he really gets to see the gentleness in your eyes. so free of judgment, so soft as they look over him. he’s sure he’s blushing again.

“so are you.” you grin, one side of your mouth higher than the other. he’s entranced by it. but he’s not the only one affected by this first time encounter. you were amazed by his kindness. he was easy and gentle, not to mention ethereally gorgeous.he was tall and broad, and even though he was covered head to toe, you could tell by the veins in his hands that nothing but strength and muscle lurked beneath his oversized sweater.

that really sent him reeling. what does he say to that? he’s never been in this position before and yuji certainly didn’t give him any pointers. he could only follow his overly-forward example in his established relationship. “i like you. i want to see you again.” he tucks his hands in his pockets and scuffs his boots over some dirt.

“like a date?” you ask, brow raised and hopeful. it had only been a few hours of wandering together but you liked the calm tranquility he brought—along with that strikingly handsome face.

date. date? he knows what that is, he remembers something about these. it’s where couples spend time together! but you weren’t a couple yet, so… was that different? he could ask later, right now you stare up at him expectantly—and he can’t say no to that look on your face. “yes. romance.” he nods, and you smile softly at the attempt.

though romance you he did. he must have learned a lot in the weeks leading up to your official first date, because from that point on choso never ceased to amaze you. he surely didn’t know everything about being a boyfriend, but you made things pretty easy on him. he mostly acted off of instinct, and where that failed him–you made sure to keep him informed on how to love, console, talk through his feelings, and navigate any other bump in the road along the way of your beautiful three years together.

you taught him how to embrace his intimacy, too. and boy, is that his favorite way of loving you. he is clingy and possessive–you’re the only person alive who could evoke such neediness from him, of course he wants to stay near you always and make his claim on you as visible as possible. hasn’t he already established how beautiful you are? i mean your nature and beauty alone was enough to bring someone like him out of his shell. he can only imagine what effect you must have on lesser men.

he never imagined that lesser men would include your male coworker— partner. even worse. he may be unfamiliar with several things that this life has to offer, but the concept of a work husband was not lost on him. especially when it comes time to pick you up that day. choso always liked to pick you up. he liked to see you as soon as possible number one, and number two he liked to make sure his presence was still well noted around your infested office. he picked a good day to stop by, apparently. your partner had you trapped in your chair—his body wedged between your desk and any escape. choso could tell by the look in his eye that his intentions were anything but pure–and clearly the healing bruises peeking up over your collar weren’t enough to let the pervert know that you were more than spoken for.

you could feel his energy as soon as he rounded the corner, and your relief was clear. you slump into your seat, ready for your loving boyfriend’s rescue from this horribly awkward conversation. your relief doesn’t last long. the look on your boyfriend’s face was that of pure rage, his eyes a dark purple flame. your pesky coworker seems to feel the perilous stare. he wheels around to be met with the boyfriend you warned him about, and he opens his mouth to make excuses.

“leave. don’t talk to her again.” he utters from your doorway, making sure the man had to walk past him to obey his requests. “want kids one day?” he threatens, raising his brow, his face a nasty scowl. the guy backs aways from you immediately, tucking his head to slide past choso and pray that his sliminess doesn’t get on his clothes. choso growls a little upon his exit, slamming your door shut behind him. your kind and gentle boyfriend was in the backseat of his own mind, and you knew it. he was blinded with jealousy—though he trusts you with his life. it just disgusts him that anyone can picture you in the way that’s only meant for him. if he could, he’d make sure no one could even look at you, though that’s far from an achievable reality. he stares at you, the fire dimming in his eyes only slightly since you were not the source of his rage—but you would surely be the resolve of it.

you could tell what he was ordering you to do without him having to say a word, and it wouldn’t be the first time that you’ve let choso fuck you in your office. it excites you to see him so controlling. you unbutton your blouse, moving from your office chair to the desk to present yourself for him. he growls approvingly, thumbing over his bottom lip as he admires you. you’re already a patchwork of bruises in various stages of healing—and thanks to your overzealous partner, he’d have to add more to the collection.

“just panties.” he orders in that low silken tone of his. you can see the imprint of his cock steadily hardening against the casual black jeans he chose to wear today. your mouth nearly salivates at the thought of how rough he was about to be with you as you grip at the sides of your pencil skirt, yanking it down your legs and into the floor before you move for your bra—sighing at the relief of your free chest meeting the cool air. he nods, tugging at the neck of his shirt to remove it.

your body just puts everything in overdrive. every need to take you and mark you up intensifying tenfold. you are perfect, sultry little lips, a perfect rack and curves for days. he knew he was hardly the first guy to fantasize about you—but he had to make sure he was the only one taking up your thoughts. you shudder at the reveal of his chiseled top half. he was so bulky despite first impressions, huge biceps and thick, veiny forearms. his chest was wide and pecs defined, he was a god. your legs shift wider in subconscious accommodation for him and he’s pushing his jeans down and giving you a half-lidded smirk—enough to make your panties stick to your cunt in anticipation of him. he grabs your chin, giving you a harsh kiss. he was so dual, so easy with you one moment and brutal with you the next, it was everything. he gnaws at your lip, shoving his thick tongue into your mouth, licking over the walls over your cheeks and tasting the bitter energy drink you’ve been sipping on your tongue. he chuckles when he pulls away, your lip puffy in the spot his teeth met.

“so pretty even your coworkers want you. what am i gonna do with you, sweetheart?” he sighs, sinking to his knees. he rubs you over your panties, enjoying the squishy mush he feels waiting for him beneath the fabric. you kick your legs on either side of him, leaning back on the desk to get more of that feeling, his fingers temporarily hooking on your clit with each pathetic little roll of your hips. “only this wet for me though, right?”

you nod vigorously, parting those swollen lips to plead your case. he swipes your panties to the side and loudly spits against your clit. his other thumb comes in to spread the nasty lube. you clamp your mouth shut again at the feeling of his digits stroking over you, your studious boyfriend having learned exactly where to touch you through your times together. you shudder instantly, body responding through jerks of your legs and trying to shut them around his head. that only makes him move his fingers all together, leaning in to suckle your clit in between his teeth, biting at the sensitive nub. you can feel his hair rub against your inner thighs, the warmth and wetness of his mouth making you look around for a way to ground yourself against the rapid stretching elastic feeling in your core. his hands find the dimples of your thighs, kneading at them and groaning as he flicks his tongue against the nerves now—memorizing the patterns and speed you liked best like this quick figure eight he was doing now.

one hand grips the desk, your other coming up to grip at his black pigtail, whisper-chanting his name as helplessly grind on his face. he knows you won’t last much longer, and he knows exactly how to push you over the edge—letting his fingers take the place of his mouth so he could occupy his teeth with the plush skin of your inner thighs. luckily you love it, his sick need to brand you in the most dangerous way possible—loving the message it sends. you squeal as he sinks into your flesh, seeing stars from the combining sensations.

“choso!! cumming, oh shh—” your mouth drops open, the shocks coming over you in waves. if he was in a kinder mood, he’d work you through the onslaught and let you sit on his length, working you both out in such a delicious fashion. but he’s insatiable, and one of those sweet squeals from you is not anywhere near enough. he stands back to full height, pulling off those soaked panties and letting them lie forgotten along with the rest of your clothes. you’re so gone already—so beautiful and blissed out in the way that you have taught him exactly how to do this to you and no one could be as attentive and cater to you like he does. you look up at him so sweetly, you’ve given over your entire body for him to decorate as he sees fit—and your neck doesn’t have his teeth marks in the delicate skin where everyone can see. no, he had been a gentleman so far, keeping everything coverable–tasteful peeks available depending on the work shirts you chose. he thumbs over your lip, scraping his teeth over your jaw and nipping at different places just enough to bruise, loving the blues and reds left in his wake. he knows to be careful, to avoid your carotid–no one’s more in tune with blood flow than he is. so he picks his spot, laving his tongue over it as his fingers play in the mess between your legs, making you gasp and hump into his hand again like the eager little girl you are. you scream out his name when he bites, the iron tang of blood dripping on his tongue and down that pretty neck of yours. you kick your feet, the pain so deep but so good—connected directly to the panging need in your cunt, you can’t deny that his kink is one you share.

you can see the red staining his teeth when he pulls away to look at the little streaks running down your skin–just enough. he would never seriously hurt you, and he knows that you love to be bitten and branded as much as he loves to do it. you grin at the sight of him, blood on his lip and desire burning in the place of his earlier rage. he turns you, helping you lean over your desk so he could see what marks needed to be replaced on your ass. he licks his teeth, several had healed up and disappeared to his distaste. he slaps the supple skin, making you jump a bit with giddiness—some dizziness even. you push against your wooden desk to feel his warmth, his large hand enough to sting your whole cheek as his teeth sink into the other. your eyes roll back a little, knowing this one had drawn blood based on the way he soothes over the indents with his tongue. it’ll be hard to sit on it tomorrow, but he compliments the brand with a few hickies surrounding the main piece, palming at your skin to soothe. he loves hearing you mewl and moan when he claims you, he loves seeing that glistening layer of your want for him on your thighs when he spreads your ass cheeks, grunting out just how happy it makes him as he guides his fat leaking cockhead to the eager entrance.

he hisses and you moan when he bottoms out in you, giving you inch by inch without mercy. you press your cheek to the cool wood of the desk, only able to feel the heat of your body and his hot cock sliding in and out of you. you can’t speak, he fills you too well. he’s angled too perfect, hitting every spot over and over to make you stupid—unable to even hold yourself up any longer. he loves using such a brutal pace on you, thrusting powerfully enough that his balls slap against your bruised ass. you clench down around him so tight he’s worried his cock might snap in two—but it’s so worth it for the animalistic moans spilling from your throat every time he nudges against your cervix. you look so cute beneath him, clawing at the desk and screaming his name in those silent yells.

“is this my pussy? tell me who’s pussy this belongs to.” he grunts, pulling your arms behind your back. you arch to fight against the depth he’s getting, only to give him more with your squirming. he tightens his hold to keep you still, using his other hand to pull your hair up for a clear answer. you inhale sharply at the pain, the feeling so blissful you can feel another elastic band stretching thin inside you. “asked you a question, sweetheart. speak up.”

“yes–” you choke out, trying to collect your thoughts in between the loud beats of your heart and throbs of your pussy. “all yours, ‘s your pussy chos–choso!” you cry out, the rubber band snapping as he finds the weak spot of your womb.

“that’s my good girl, want my pussy to cum for me.” he squeezes your wrists in one big hand—freeing your hair. you gasp out, nodding eagerly as the release comes gushing, your series of babbles and squeals enough to do him in. he slams his cock as deep as it will go–hoping to one day mark you as his in the most obvious way possible as his seed spills into your insides. he rocks you both through it this time, a sign that your boyfriend was returning to normal after receiving the cure to his sour mood. his soft hands caress the curves of your waist as he stills, catching his breath. you lay beneath him in a dream state, blood on your body and traces on the table and on his own person. he chuckles a little—hopefully your partner, and any other oblivious skeez, gets the point now, if your screaming didn’t run them out of the office.

#kylee's kinktober event #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kyleewritesjjk #jjk x reader #jjk x reader smut #choso x reader #choso kamo #choso jjk #choso smut #jjk choso #choso

414 notes · View notes

simonisferal · 8 months ago

Note

i saw your kaveh and alhaitham angst and i wanna say: mwah, chef's kiss.

but i want to ask to do the same troupe/theme (idk what it's called basta) but with heizou and some other characters of your choice.

is that alright?

Their heart belongs to another — venti, xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn! reader (part two!)

summary: they love you but don’t know you’re already in a relationship

warnings: alcohol (venti, kazuha), soft angst, heartbreak (xiao), yandere-ish themes (kazuha), jealousy (venti, heizou, wanderer)

notes: please ignore the fact it took me a year to write this / it was originally only heizou and kazuha but i wanted more things to write

venti always managed to put a smile on your face as you two drank the night away at angel shares.

with the two of you tipsy, diluc had to slowly give you less alcohol to intake. it was cute seeing venti so desperately cling onto the wine bottle as the red-haired male put it back behind the counter.

you laughed, it was more of a drunken giggle, and venti let go of the wine bottle in an instant. your voice might’ve cured all of the trauma and hurt he had to endure as a small wind spirit, the wind slowly breezing through the establishment even with no open windows.

diluc took your wine too, replacing it with cold water and setting it down in front of you. “drink it, love.”

you grumpily sigh, pouting but nevertheless taking the cup into your hands and taking small sips of the water. you were calm around him, venti noted.

but love?

“oh master diluc, you’re so kind to my poor y/n..!” venti smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and diluc frowned. you hug him back and he swears you can feel his fast-beating heart.

venti’s heart might’ve stopped sooner than he had thought. “you mean, my y/n?” diluc continued to clean glasses but the aura definitely shifted. he knew what he was capable of yet he didn’t care.

venti’s glare matched diluc’s while you’re still oblivious to everything being said.

“aww, diluc! you’re so sweet.!” you whine. diluc gives you a soft smile that melts your heart and hardens venti’s.

he lets go of you, not bothering to try to hide his obvious annoyance towards your words but you two are drunk—he’ll definitely forget about this later (he won’t).

he didn't mind staying with you outdoors. whether it's on the rooftop of the inn or a beautiful stop you convinced him to take you, xiao always managed to love your sense of adventure. it often came with hassles, of course.

you were an adventurer, you lived on the road, never settling down like xiao so desperately wanted to with you (not that he'd ever tell you that). you also got hurt a lot, a vision can only heal so much, and without proper care, he was sure you were gonna die in teyvat's mother nature.

you had a scraped knee, it wasn’t as bloody as he had anticipated when the inn’s owner had told him you were gonna die but way to make him rush, no?

you were sitting on a rock as he teleported right next to you. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin line. he was worried.

aether was right in front of you, kneeling, which surprised the adepti. his gloves were off and his hands tended to your injured knee. xiao wished he could take his own gloves off, hold your hand as tightly as you hold his, not worried about his karmic debt going to you and eating you alive.

you wince and the blond in front of you rubbed your other knee, “hey, it’s okay. it was a simple scratch, nothing more.” he bandaged your injury and kissed it, like a mother would with her child’s ‘booboo’.

xiao looked at him. if you asked anyone who didn’t know him how he looked like at the moment, they’d tell you anger, disgust, contempt, or something in the lines of hate. they weren’t wrong.

his heart drops even further to his feet when you pulled up aether to his feet so he loomed over your sitting figure and kissed his cheek. “thanks, cutie.”

ah.

he helps you stand up from the rock and gives you over to aether. his hands, his gloved hands, settle on your shoulder and your waist, like a lingering hope that it was a simple tradition that humans did as a sign of appreciation. but he knew it wasn’t that.

he lets go of you, his hands in place as you hug aether. something so simple but so endearing made him sad. he’s giving you other to someone else. someone who could travel with you and protect you when you’re in need. xiao still has to help the people of liyue.

“i’ll be leaving now.”

alongside his fluttering and well-mannered words, he really liked you. kazuha stays up at night, looking up at the stars, wondering if you got home alright or if you ate something for dinner last night and such. he cared about you just like he would care about others but something seems off.

he'd pack your lunchs occasionally, taking his sweet and precious time to write a elegant note of how much you mean to him as well as delicious food! you must've been blind or uninterested to not notice his lovesick behavior.

on the crux, you and kazuha were simply talking the night away with a little drinking on the side. he clung to your shoulder as he slurred his speech, letting out some hums and incoherent hymns. it was cute, like your beloved thoma back in inazuma.

”you know… you remind me of home.” you say. kazuha looks up to look at you. the wind blows softly, brushing your hair in your face and he couldn’t help but fall in love with you more.

”may i ask why?” he manages to say clearly, his breath soft on your neck. you clear his thoughts, his past life in inazuma didn’t matter as long as he was held by you.

”the food you make, the lines you say, your smile…” kazuha swears he has heart in his eyes. your calm and collective words makes the samurai’s heart beat faster than before, his face almost as red as the simple strand in his hair.

“it reminds me of my boyfriend, thoma.” kazuha ignores whatever you said and clings closer to you.

”that’s encouraging to hear.” he mumbles. he still has a soft smile on his face. he’s not gonna let go of you now. he won’t let you go to inazuma. you can’t be in that wretched place, not the place that hurt him so much as an adolescent. you can’t possibly be happy there, your words have a different meaning, he gaslights himself.

“i’ll make you some breakfast in the morning if you wish.”

”that’d be nice.”

heizou enjoyed the time you two spend together. whether it’s on a simple date or a investigation he personally made, seeing you, being near you was all he needed to have a good day.

luckily for him, he had a day off today! kujou sara finally let him speed-run his work yesterday to get today off.

( kujou sara narrowed her eyes at the detective’s bold request. “you’re not plotting anything, right, shikanoin?”

heizou grinned. “of course not, sara! can’t a man catch a break?” he winked. kujou sara still had a face of suspicion but sighed after heizou didn’t stand down or retract his statement.

”i’ll allow it. make sure your work is tidy and you will have tomorrow off. just don’t do anything stupid during that time.”)

he met up with you, his signature smile on his face as he prodded right beside you. “hey, partner! didn’t expect to see you here.” that’s a lie. he may or may not track your schedule from time to time.

you turn, a bunch of sauce on covered your mouth. you were always a messy eater but those stains looked quick and rushed. you usually ate slowly, so you must be with someone—

”oh hey compadre!” that’s who.

itto only smiled as the smaller male looked up at him. you were with him, but why? did the oni invite you to eat? most likely, but—again, why? how did he know you, how did you know him; those are the answers he needed.

“if it isn’t mr. arataki! how’s your day?” heizou didn’t really care about the answer, as rude as it sounds. he just wanted to spend his day off with his beloved y/n but teyvat is so cruel.

”it’s been awesome! i woke up and then—“ itto’s voice was drowned out by his thoughts. he must be missing something, but what? he looked back at you, maybe you had a clue.

you watched itto intently, focused on his words with a smile. you two were close, but how close? collages, friends, besties? you chuckled at itto’s jokes, or what heizou assumed was a joke (he’s not paying attention to the oni, just you. only you).

“—and then i decided to invite my beautiful lover out to eat! and here we are!”

ding, ding, ding! there’s the answer! you two were—

…lovers?

he pressed his lips together before covering up his shocked face with a smile. “my, my, that sounded like a hell of a day! i’ll leave you two love-birds to it; don’t wanna get any tooth-rotting cavities from you two!” he laughed and you laughed with him.

heizou walked away with a smile and waved. you two waved back and he turned.

he never wished to be another person but maybe today is a good day to start.

the aranaras always seemed to follow the poor wanderer. whether he was carrying out a task from lesser lord kusanali or taking a simple stroll.

it was a tiring thing, making sure none of the aranara got hurt in the mission or ate anything suspiciously purple or blue. luckily you managed to keep them entertain while wanderer fought anything.

you let the small creatures play with your hair and hands, tugging them to either play with you or to divert your attention to them. “y/n-nara! look at hat-nara!”

he sat still on a log as a group of aranara’s sat on his lap and hat. his eyes were closed and you didn’t know if he was simply letting them do as they pleased or was asleep. you decided it was the former and just smiled. it was a cute thing, indeed.

what you two didn’t know is that they were hiding. hiding from the fungi that wanderer failed to detect and hunt down (he says that sounds too animalistic, but he basically locks his eyes on the target and doesn’t stop ‘till they’re eliminated). an aranara stepped into your arms, trembling.

“wanderer?” you speak, impatiently and anxious. he let out a small hum, not bothering to open his eyes. “you missed one.”

“missed one wha—“

before he could finish his sentence, the fungi rushed towards you. it was obviously angry, wanderer had just killed his entire fungi family! he didn’t even have time to drop the aranaras on him, let alone prepare to send an anemo-fueled blow to the monster before a green arrow hit it straight in its chest, followed by three little seedlings exterminating the fungi.

you were cuddled up with an aranara or two, trying to protect them before a hand found itself on your shoulder.

“you shouldn’t leave your guard down in a forest, you lummox; you’ll get yourself killed.” tighnari!

you instantly relax hearing his voice and you let go of the protected aranaras to hug him. you nuzzle your cheek on his own, tighnari’s ears rolling back and his eyebrows furrowing. “i thought i was a goner! thank you ‘nari sosososo so much!”

”yeah yeah, just make sure next time you check the perimeter of your resting place.” he patted your back twice before looking forward to the hatted fellow.

“wanderer. i saw your work on the fungi, i’m impressed but think strategically next time.” wanderer’s eyebrows were furrowed and his hands felt clammy. his eyes, filled with panic were replaced with a glare. who did this guy think he was?

“so you were following us?” he huffed and crossed his arms. the aranaras dispersed, leaving the three of you alone.

tighnari’s tail swirled around your waist as you continued to hug him for dramatic effect. he snarled, “i was doing a patrol when i noticed the fungi’s elemental trail. i knew y/n was near so i followed it for their safety.”

wanderer huffed again. it was clear he didn’t believe him but how did the fennec fox know them? he let out a small ‘right’ before diverting his attention to you.

you had a big smile on your face. “aww, tighnari! you care about me?” tighnari looks away but it’s obvious he did. it rubbed wanderer the wrong way.

“of course i do. you forget you’re my mate.”

wow.

wanderer felt his fake porcelain heart break. he was actually that stupid to fall in love with a mortal. he cursed himself, he swore he’d never do such a thing again, that he’d never love again, but he did.

what a stupid thing.

325 notes · View notes

hellincarnation · 15 days ago

Text

Songs I listened to while writing this

life. pov. (Or ‘she’)

Mors tua vita mea, your death is my life, for my soul still is a cycle of eternity. And what is the meaning of life without an end? No road has no end nor no river has no mouth, so why do I have to be confined to an existence of perpetuity? This is not a cry for the bony hands of Death, nor a desire for any kind of god, but instead a juxtaposition of the meaninglessness of continuance without evolution against an End.

I danced with Death, they tried to compare us to timers and clocks, but theirs doesn't tick, instead waits in silence, listening to my every breath. I used to ask them why I had the warmth of the sun infused into my skin but when they held me, theirs was glacial? They merely smiled, a halfhearted, uncharacteristic expression, shook their head and replied “I cannot have something I’ve never had.”

And I wept.

For was this really love? Or a craving for the absence of what we couldn’t have. I wanted peace. An End. The final chapter to my story, I want them. And they want the joys of life, a never ending story of revelry and endless adventures, they want me. Were we in love, or so deeply envious of each other that we mocked ourselves into this sham of a union?

death. pov.

the way she looks at me. It’s almost predatory. Like she wants to eat me alive. And I wonder, is my gaze full of the same affliction? I touched my face, then remembered I don’t have an appendage to my body to alter the way i look at her. then, of course, my mind is back to her.

shes full of a type of beauty unmatched in my plane, I yearn for her. Or am I lusting for what she has? Those are two significantly different things. I feel her warmth still, her energy and strength coursing through the way she waltzes. Maybe I want her. Or maybe I want her every touch and action, all on my being.

if I could feel the way she does, I wouldn’t mind if she devoured me ravenously, would I existing in her change anything? What if I hurt her? What if my existence was so corrupted that I’d take away her warmth and replace it with my apathetic nature?

this is selfish. i am a selfish soul. but i can’t help it when my tender words induce her cheeks to flush with the hue of crushed roses. or when my touches makes her breath race. how selfish of me to look upon her reactions and crave it carnally. maybe i want her. or maybe i want to be her.

I got a little ambitious this time, two povs

This blog is turning into a writing blog istg

@jeahreading @tamanna-and-her-struggles @schrodinger-ka-billa @ravenwordss @lotuseaterwhowistlesthedark @shinchansbitch @im-on-crack-send-help @zeherili-ankhein @your-dazzling-sun @abyssmita @debacleofdaemons @unhinged-as-hell @mireyaaaaaaaaa @idk-here-for-the-escapisim @depressed-bi-twerking

@daonedaonlysk @lovely-rants-alot @lesbianpoetess @the-eclipse-is-in-me @mi-stress-of-chaos

#writingblr #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writers and poets #writerscommunity #writblr #writer stuff #Spotify

59 notes · View notes

onskepa · 11 months ago

Note

Hi hi hi!!

Can i get neteyam x human reader? Let's say she was jake's teammate back on earth before he lost his legs. And they had some cool nicknames for each of them. Jake calls her 'bullet' (or anything else you want) and she calls him 'marine' (the way grace always called him) or 'mermaid' (to mock him. Idk you chose). When quaritch appears and kidnaps the kids, she's there too fighting along with him. But she doesn't know these are Jake's kids. When she finds out, she sides with them and saves the kids. At first, Neteyam hated her because initially she sided with quaritch. I need them to have the 'enemies to lovers' trop

Hello sweetie! So I went over your request a couple times. While I love your idea, I hope you dont mind if I did some adjustments to it. Reader will most likely be the same age as Jake, meaning she will be old enough to be a parent herself. So, I thought if it is ok to have it be platonic instead of romantic. I hope you are ok and understand the change of it. Hope you can enjoy this one!

---------------------

Swaxpi

The natural sunlight of Pandora blinded the marine for a few seconds. Blinking a couple of times to adjust the sudden brightness. Here she was, in the far away planet that is the ideal of new human colonization. And by god, is Pandora beautiful, almost makes her wanna cry. But she came with a new mission and goals. Now arriving and being assigned under the group section following ex-colonel Quaritch.

After hearing the news of Jake Sully now considered a traitor to human kind, the marine now needed answers. It isn't like him to just act out like that. There has to be some logical reason. Seeing as he has gone native, it will be tricky to find him. But hopeful with her new position, finding Jake sully will be easier. Hopefully.

“Our mission is to hunt down the one they call Toruko Makto, Jake Sully” Quaritch gives a brief description of their new mission. Marine stood out among the rest of her ‘squad’ as everyone else literally is 4 feet taller than her and blue. Though she paid close attention, she couldn't help but feel weird.

But now that the squad is heading out, to look for him in the forest to look for him. And while no success, they did find the old shack at the last battle that Jake had with human Quaritch. Not only that, but to see the last minutes of the fighting in a recorded camera of the old armor, the marine almost didn't recognize jake. He looked feral and angry.

“That is Jake’s woman” one of the members points out the female na’vi in the recording. “She is an animal,” the other commented. In a way, she did.

But then suddenly, with a turn of her head she looks at the direction of the forest. “You see something soldier?” Quaritch asks, noticing her looking out. Giving a quick look around her, she shakes her head. “No sir, nothing” she replies.

Though, she could have sworn she heard a voice. Somewhere near a distance.

The surprise attack was indeed surprising. The recom team captured four na’vi children and one human child. Yet two of the four na’vi children have five fingers and eyebrows, indicating they are mixed.

“Show me your fingers” Quaritch demanded one of the children, and without hesitation, the young boy flipped his middle fingers up at Quaritch’s face. It made the man grin, but the marine almost wanted to laugh. Why does it remind her so much of jake?

“You’re his alright” Quaritch comments. The marine girl blinked a few times. Are they Jake’s kids?

Quaritch takes off the mic neck piece from the child and turns it on. And out comes a voice the marine woman thought she would never hear in a long time.

“Lo’ak? Lo'ak, do you read me?” Jake Sully. Sounding alive and well. And it seems Quairtch knows it too. Shit, if the kids really are his, it will make the situation tense and anything could go wrong. Yet she is the enemy to them. What on Pandora is she gonna do? Be part of the reason for hurting her best friend's kids or will she go rogue?

Guns were pointed at the children's heads, neither recom hesitating to be rough on the kids. Especially the little one. “Really sir? They are just kids” the marine girl spoke, her eyes narrowing at her commander. Quaritch shook his head dismissively. “They are the spawn of the traitor. They are valuable so long as they dont do anything rash” he responds.

She is not liking every second of it.

The youngest child yelps in pain as the one holding her was causing her pain. “Easy! Damn, let me have her” she tells the big blue off. She grabs the youngest in her hold, still being strong but hopefully softer than how the other was holding. The recom walks away in annoyance. The child however was close to crying. Leaning closer to her ear, the marine whispers “ssshh, its going to be ok. Your dad will come save you soon. I need you to be a big girl and be strong”.

It sort of seemed to work. Now to figure out how to help the other literal big kids without having her head blown off. She can only hope Jake can get his blue ass faster.

It was night but it was perfect for neteyam and his parents. Yes, they told him to stay put and not move. But how could he stay still when his siblings are in the hands of the enemy? Following quietly, neteyam hid among the large plants, letting the darkness cover him.

Getting closer, he can see those false na’vi holding down his siblings. He looks and sees tuk, scared yet calm. A human woman was holding her from behind. Narrowing his eyes, neteyam wonders why there is a single human in an all blue team. It won't matter, she along with the others will die.

So being quick, he managed to kill one false na’vi, however he exposed himself.

“NA’VI!” one of the recom shouts. Just in time jake catches neteyam and pushes him down to the ground, avoid a flood of bullets. Neteyam knows he will be in big trouble later, but it will be worth it.

The marine knows she will be in serious trouble later but right now it will be worth it.

Bullets and arrows were flying around, taking a moment to use it, the marine woman took out one of her bombs and yanked off the ring. Throwing it in the center of where everyone was at. Quickly counting how many seconds she has, the marine grabs the kids and yanks them to a certain direction.

“Go go go go!!” was all she yelled, pushed the youngest first to the direction where she saw the na’vi. The others followed as she did, counting the time the bomb exploded. Bodies flying all around. The light from the bomb gave her enough sight to see where she was going. However, it was too good of an escape. A sudden and quick sharp pain was felt on her leg. But she couldn't stop to see what it was. Mostly likely she has been shot. By why? It doesn't matter at the moment.

“MARINE!” she heard quaritch shout. Not looking back she continues to guide the kids deeper into the darkness.

Until a giant blue body tumbled her to the ground, blade against her neck.

Neteyam hissed dangerously at the unknown woman who kept touching his siblings. He raised his arm ready to kill the woman once and for all.

“STOP!” kiri shouted, grabbing his arm, forcefully trying to take the blade away from him. Lo’ak also forcefully neteyam to back off from the woman. He looked at them in confusion. “She didn't hurt us! If anything she made sure those killers didn't hurt us any further” kiri was quick to explain. Lo’ak nodded, “yeah, she calmed tuk down and made sure she didn't cry '' he added.

Tuk wasn't far, “she is really nice! Not like those killers' '.

Neteyam looked down at the human who was still laying flat on the ground. “Listen, I understand you want to end me. But I am not your enemy. I know I looked like it, but trust me-” the lady’s words were cut by the worried shriek of a female na’vi.

The kids turned around and saw their parents approaching. Quickly they all ran towards them and hugging them for dear life. Weeping and crying, the parents hugging their children as they sigh in huge relief. “My children! oh thank eywa, you are all safe!” the female na’vi says. After the kids were being checked over, the marine took a good look at the male na’vi. Looked a lot like the recom blues, but also a native.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the oldest son yanked her up and pushed her rather roughly towards the parents. “The human was there with the demons, holding tuk against her will” Neteyam states. Anger still present.

“She is not like them!” Tuk protests. Eager to go side with the human woman but jake wasn't letting her. “Please, she didn't want to hurt us,” Kiri adds. Neytiri was ready to kill the human, but Jake gently placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. Getting right at the marine’s face, mad yet confused.

The marine couldn't help but let out a nervous chuckle, “long time no see little miss damsel” she says.

“No fucking way….”

Neteyam didn't know what to feel. One moment his father was ready to kill the human, and now his father was happy and rough housing with the demon. His mother was just as confused as he was. His younger siblings however were happy and enjoyed playing with the human. Maybe it was so late into the night, maybe the thrill was dying down and he was just hungry and tired.

Yet he cant help but not trust the human woman. How can his father have him accept the demon who held a weapon near his baby sister? Sometimes he understands his mother more.

“And this I dunked him in the orange liquid! Oh you should have seen his face! He looked like a shaking, crusty chihuahua!” The marine woman was retelling a funny memory to Jake's family. While the kids laughed, neytiri trying to remain a stoic face couldn't help but crack a smile.

Jake looked like he wanted to die on the spot.

“Oh yeah? What about that one time when we were in Guatemala? You were so drunk that you were flirting with that bartender” Jake smirks as he recalls another memory from their shared past. The woman blushed but also looking ashamed. “Not my proudest moment,” she confessed.

“Swaxpi is so funny! I hope she stays with us” tuk giggles as neteyam tucks her in bed hammock. Neteyam gave a surprised look, “why?” he asks. Tuk shrugs, “I like her!”. Shaking his head, he gives her a kiss on the forehead and leaves.

He was tired but not sleepy, so much has happened in the few short hours. He needed some time alone. So he quietly leaves his family’s hut and out to the nearby area. Silence was perfect.

Until it wasn't

Seems like the human woman was also in the same area neteyam wanted to be in. Neteyam grabs his blade by instinct, observing her move in case she does something. “Calm down kid, I will be gone soon” the human woman explains.

She turns around and her eyes meeting his.

“Come here, I could use some company,” she says.

Huffing in annoyance, neteyam walks over to her and sits near a branch, keeping distance from her. It didn't bother the woman. From what Jake told her, his oldest son is more cautious of possible danger and tends to be alarmed often.

“Swaxpi, your siblings and your mother have started calling me that, I'm not very well educated on your language, so what does it mean? I hope nothing too mean” the woman asks. Yes, neteyam has also noticed that too. Mostly tuk and lo’ak calling the odd woman hat name. But hearing that his mother calls her that too was very surprising.

“It means family member…” neteyam replies slowly.

The woman humms at that. Seeming more relaxed, swaxpi makes herself comfortable on a branch. “I like it, but I find it odd. I only have met all of you in less that a day, was part of a enemy squad, exposing some of your father’s embarrassing secrets and now look. Already seeing me as family-”

“I don't, you are a demon no matter what. A killer.” Neteyam cuts her off.

Swaxpi lowered her gaze, her smile faltering a bit. “Call me what you like neteyam, but never call me a killer. Yes, I joined the RDA. Yes I have held weapons. But never ever have I taken a life. Human nor na’vi. I never brought death to anyone” Swaxpi calmly defends herself.

Long minutes have passed and neither spoke a word.

“They can call you swaxpi all they want. But in my eyes, you are nothing to me” neteyam declares. Almost trying to convince himself more than the human. The woman however lets her lips grow back into a smile. “Sure neteyam, whatever you say” she replies.

Yes, neteyam will never call her Swaxpi or anything endearing towards her. She is nothing to him, nothing.

But if she is nothing to him, why does it feel wrong?

This took too long that I would like. BUT! I hope you all liked this one. And also hope you guys understand the changes I made. So, until next time! See ya!

-------

Swaxpi = Family member

#avatar #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #avatar 2 #na'vi x human #neteyam sully #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam x you #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x oc #jake sully x you #jake sully #jake sully x neytiri #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n

248 notes · View notes

lorimnnn · 2 years ago

Note

Hiii! May I request something for Kazan Yamaoka?

During a match at the Yamaoka Estate where Kazan sees from a distance survivor reader is gonna go to a gen that's in one of the houses but she catches herself before she steps inside. She takes her shoes off and leaves them at the door before going to the gen. Despite it being a realm different from the real world she still respects Japanese culture. And she does this every time she goes through any houses in his realm.

Idk I'm just curious how Kazan would react to this since none of the other survivors or killers (besides him maybe) respect this. But if not that's totally ok!

omg, I can't explain how much I love this request! I know it took me ages but I'm here! I'm looking to write more on Kazan because there's hardly anything on him.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

warnings: canon-typical violence and gore, life-threatening situations, swearing, i hate editing so obviously it's not edited but i'll probably go over it one day

trope summary: fluff, slow-burn

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

You were the last one left. Did you know that?

It had never crossed your mind--- so no, you didn't. You had learned long ago not to care about those types of things when you were facing killers like The Oni. He was a devourer. Your teammates never stood a chance to begin with.

But you didn't know that.

The first time The Entity threw you into The Oni's world, you took off running. That's what your other teammates did, anyway. There had been a collective groan when the fog cleared and you all came to terms with where you were--- then a grim caress of fear that seemed to possess all of you. The sight of your teammates so flighty had struck you the wrong way and you weren't going to go about asking questions about it.

The primal roar in the distance said all that you needed to know.

What was this place, anyway?

It was like you'd time-travelled to Edo-era Japan. It was beautiful and antique and you'd never seen anything quite like it. But you'd always wanted to travel to Japan.

The Entity took that chance away from you.

You found yourself reminiscing over all those lost opportunities. You were never going to get them back. You should've gone even when you were sure you were going to be dirt poor afterwards. You should have taken the chance and travelled everywhere as soon as you got the money for it. You didn't even know what you were saving for. Everyone else was doing it, so you supposed you were supposed to as well. But what was the point of having so much money if you couldn't even use it to buy the things that would make you happy?

If you could go back, you would leap at the chance to travel somewhere here. But you supposed that 'here' wouldn't really exist in the real world. Not like this. Not at the peak of it's grandeur.

Ha! The irony.

Could you even call this a privilege when you were only here to die?

You heard Kate cry out in the distance. You flinched; you needed to wake up. Work on some gens. You were still running aimlessly, trying to get away---

Kate had just died, and here you were.

Admiring the scenery.

Idiot.

You'd always been little airy-fairy. Not quite there, sometimes too much in the moment, sometimes a little too far off. It meant you had a lot of delayed reactions, such as now.

Right now, you needed to be thinking of how to stay alive and keep your teammates that way, too.

So you headed for the house, running faster than ever. The doors were open and you could already see the gen.

"Quick," you muttered to yourself.

Before he catches up to you.

You hadn't seen The Oni, but you'd heard stories about him. Gruesome stories of his brutal, unforgiving nature, his mistaken dignity and honour. A true warrior who had been corrupted by his blood thirst.

You wondered how a samurai of all things learned such villainy. Weren't they all about honour? That's what you'd read in your books, at least. Now you weren't so sure.

Before entering the house with the gen in sight, you paused. You know you shouldn't of. You know that he was the last person in this hellish world deserving of respect when he was literally out killing all of you, but---

But this was different.

"It's the bare minimum," you reassured yourself. It helped comfort your warring fear that you were crazy. That you were empathising with a killer.

You took off your shoes and aligned them neatly outside before heading in and working the gen.

Too easy.

It was all too easy. Sometimes so much so that it got boring very quickly--- the same chase, the same screams, the same mindless fury that Entity infused him with. It wasn't as though he cared about the survivors in any way. He couldn't care less if they had families, let alone worth it personalities. But there was no more motive behind the kills. No more drive.

It was the ultimate disgrace to his honour---

But if Kazan admitted that, what would the Entity do?

It would be an insult. It would risk his life and extended existence, and there was so much he hadn't done yet. So much he was already doing that he had vowed to finish. One day the Entity would release him and he would resume his life and old purpose. Or maybe he would start all over again and honour his father better.

That was his secret hope.

You were the last survivor. He hadn't met you yet. Hadn't even heard of you, but he knew that you weren't fresh of the boat if you had eluded him so easily. You must have heard things or been smart to ask if it meant that it was your first instinct to run.

"Shoes...?" He muttered to himself.

He could hear you working on the gen. You were so diligent. So focused.

So naive--- how had you not heard him?

Well, Kazan had been taking his time with you. He didn't attempt to be quiet often. The kills were usually so quick that it didn't even matter. He was fast and they were prey and he would consume them before they even knew they were food.

But that was a thought for another day, because---

Because---

You had put your shoes outside. You had set them up neatly. It was a custom he had almost forgotten about and learned not to apply to the survivors. He never bothered to hold it against them, either. In this game of life and death, customary traditions were the last of any of their worries, even his.

And yet you had remembered.

Something dead twitched in his cold, hollow heart. It was small, but so significant that it barrelled into him--- a short breath escaped him in a husky puff.

Warmth.

He was feeling... warmth.

He looked up from your shoes. He watched you gently, the hardness receding from his gaze for that moment alone--- he observed your fixated frown, the nimble work of your fingers, the way you were still too absorbed to notice him...

Kill.

The Entity's voice startled him, even if it didn't show. It had been a while since she had spoke to him at all, and it was only at the start when he'd been summoned to this cruel arena of death.

Her voice was sharp. Cutting.

A warning.

Kill.

Was this all they were meant to do? To kill and consume, to die and be reborn, only for the cycle to continue until the end of eternity?

Could he really kill you now?

He would never admit it. Not allowed, unless he wanted to die. But the Entity's voice, it had disgusted him. It probably knew that. Somehow, even a fraction of his hesitance had amounted into something significant enough for the Entity to speak--- it knew all.

It knew he wanted to spare you, just for this small gesture.

But it knew he wouldn't.

Kazan killed you in cold blood.

He thought about you long after.

The Oni was said to roar when he killed. It was loud and brutal and everyone knew about it--- you became a sacrifice in his hands, and you died with honour.

Did he hate you?

Why had he killed you so silently?

One moment you had been working on the gen. The next you were dead. All you saw was a flash of a grotesque mask. It was drenched in blood but you were still able to make out the curving and elongated features of it, the bright red eyes that shone through and burned through your soul. You hadn't even had time to scream. To feel scared. He had grabbed you and killed you from behind and all you'd seen was the blur that the last seconds of living had afforded you--- in that way, you felt betrayed.

Had you insulted him by doing what you had thought would appease him?

You hadn't even intended to win his favour. That gesture had been out of respect for his culture. It had been more for you than anything.

Did he think you were shitting on his culture instead? What the fuck?

You were more angry about it than you had right to be. Jake was out doing his alone-time things in the woods when you bumped into him, kicking twigs and punching trees.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," you grumbled. Jake didn't believe you, and you were terrible at hiding things. You sighed. "I hate killers! I hate them! What the fuck!"

Jake's usually impassive face betrayed the hint of a smile. "I know."

"Why are they such heartless pains in the ass?"

"They're built that way."

"Were they not people, once upon a time?"

"Hardly." Jake shrugged. He tried to end the conversation there, but you kept following him around and eventually he was forced to sit when you clung to his sleeve. "They have inhuman backstories. So I've heard."

"And what's The Oni's?"

Jake snorted. "He's bothering you?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

"He's not worth a backstory," Jake said. "Trust me. He's purely in it for the kill."

Somehow, that made you angrier.

You clung to Jake's sleeve harder when he tried to stand, and he looked at you, slightly irritated.

"Can I go now?"

"No," you said flatly.

"What do you want?"

You stopped. He sighed.

You let go of his sleeve and sat there, fighting tears. They fell anyway.

Kazan didn't understand you.

You didn't understand Kazan.

You kept unintentionally respecting him, and he kept killing you. he didn't really know how to react, actually. You were too...

Too-

Too kind.

He caught himself stalking you outside of trials. He covered it up by banging on the boundary that separated the killers from the victims and acting like he was trying to come after you. At first you were scared. He regretted scaring you.

Kazan did it again and again anyway. It had been a while since he'd felt anything. The more trials he had with you, the more things he was left to grapple with. He hated it.

He yearned for it.

So he kept seeking you out.

You were kind. A bit stupid--- how could you not see how the other survivors abused your purpose and skillset? Or did you know? Why did you let it happen if you knew?

You seemed to like the other survivors, though. He couldn't understand why.

He quickly learned that you were sentimental. Ah. That made sense. No wonder you bothered with things such as cultural customs.

Sentimental was not good. It meant emotional.

To be emotional in a place like this was to kill yourself over and over, and everyone knew it. It had established the natural order of kill or be killed. Survive or die. And yet you were there, uprooting it.

No wonder everyone borderline disliked you. You showed too much interest in doing more, being more. Connecting.

How long had it been since he'd connected?

He supposed he had Rin. His descendant. But that was a bit different, wasn't it?

"What the fuck is your problem?" You'd yelled out once. You'd startled him by coming right up to the boundary and screaming in his face--- he'd stopped trying to break it just to let you speak. "What the fuck do you want? Why do you want to kill me so bad? Are you okay? Are you good?" You paused to take a breath. You were panting, hot in the cheeks, sweat beginning to bead in your hairline. "Are you fucking okay?"

He should have been angry. Who gave you the right to talk to him in such a way?

Who?

Who gave you a right to make him feel like this?

Feel anything?

And who the fuck gave you the right to make him feel bad of all things when he caught you crying?

He wouldn't have seen them if you hadn't turned your head that slightest angle, the sun hitting the thing glaze of your tears. They were shining.

You seemed to realise you were about to fall apart the same time he did and retreated. Why were you embarrassed?

Why was he contradicting himself?

Kazan watched you run away into the woods. He growled when he saw that black haired one who often pretended to ignore you sigh to himself and then run after you.

He shouldn't have stalked the both of you as far as the barrier allowed him to. Shouldn't have hid when he heard you sobbing out loud, shouldn't have stayed hidden when that stupid survivor took you into his arms--- pretending to hate it--- and let you cry there as he battled with his red cheeks.

The next time he had a trial with Jake Park, he brutalised him again and again.

Jake didn't know why, of course. And would The Oni ever tell him?

No.

Because how would he even begin to explain what he was feeling when he didn't even know himself?

You'd had enough.

The Oni had made you his obsession over and over, saving you for last. It had made his kills twice as brutal and twice as painful because know you were always ready for them.

And recently he'd been coming on to you with a vengeance, like you'd done something wrong.

You were going to sort this out for once and for all. Somewhere along the way it had become incredibly personal and this undiscovered connection and had become intimate, even if it was mostly comprised of him killing you for more than just that, killing you. Somehow that alone made it all the more emotional, all the more addictive.

You couldn't run away; there was nowhere to go.

So the next time you had a chance, you went to his realm on your own. You hunted him down and yelled in his face--- he hadn't expected you, clearly.

He had been meditating in his temple and suddenly you had come flying out of nowhere.

"Why are you doing this?" You shouted. "Why do you keep doing this? I don't get it. What have I done to hurt you so personally?"

The Oni scrambled--- ungracefully-- to his feet and stood up.

"Are you seriously going to kill me again?" you wailed. "Outside of a trial of all things? I just came to talk! Because you're a bully! A mean fucking bully!"

The Oni hesitated, his hand uncurling from his katana.

"I hate you!" You yelled.

He said nothing. Of course he did.

Now you just felt embarrassed.

"I hope I never get put in a trial with you ever again!"

That prompted the Oni to take a step closer to you. You were already walking away, though, and was surprised to find the Oni close behind, trailing at a modest distance away. You walked faster. So did he.

You walked slower.

So did he.

"Go away," you mumbled, shoving your feet back into your shoes. "You make me so mad. I don't know what I've done to piss you ff this much, but I hope it's worth it!"

The Oni kept following you.

It was quickly becoming aggravating. You stopped and turned around, probably to yell at him, but seeing him just standing there made you too mad for words and you turned back around to walk. You stomped your foot and screamed at the sky.

You hated this.

It made no sense.

You jumped at the feeling of a hand curling around yours. It was big and meaty and riddled with scars and veins. It was a human hand. The Oni's hand.

And he was touching you gently, like you could break at any moment.

Like he was sorry.

But Kazan would never say it.

"...Stay," he said.

You gawked. You hadn't even realised he could talk. You'd been sure his only language was punching and letting out battle cries. Still, over the revelation, you glared at him. "Are you crazy? What if you kill me?"

"I won't."

He held your hand slightly tighter. Was that a threat?

You pulled away your hand to test it; he didn't try squeeze it harder.

Not a threat.

"Um..."

Oh.

What did you do now?

You hadn't expected this.

"Stay," he said again.

"Why?"

"For tea."

You felt like laughing. Was he serious? Was he actually genuine? For tea? He wanted you to stay for tea? Huh? What? Why-

"Yes," you said. "Okay."

You were staying for tea.

The Oni was... Not what you expected. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was choked and gruff like he wasn't used to talking. And maybe he wasn't.

You were skeptical the whole time, but not once did he move to hurt you. He didn't even poison the tea that he made--- hand ground and the water boiled over a fire. He showed you his every move with distinct slowness like he knew you were watching.

"Does it ever get lonely here?" You found yourself blurting. "All alone. I mean, I heard you're related to Rin. Is that true?"

All you got was a nod. You weren't sure whether that was to the first or the second question, but you ran with it.

"Do you often make tea?"

He shook his head.

"Am I annoying you?"

The Oni looked at you again--- this time sharply, and you tensed and held your breath. You weren't expect the flash of deadpan attitude in his eyes when he sighed and turned away.

"So... I'm not?"

"Drink your tea," he said.

You did.

You should have never come back.

But the tea...

The tea was good.

Yeah, the tea.

So... Kazan may like you more than he thought.

It wasn't intentional; it had just happened. You kept coming for tea, he kept listening to you babble, and he started to crave your company the second you left. You had managed to fill a gap in his chest that he hadn't even realised had been vacant to begin with.

You were just so beautiful.

It had caught him by surprise. One day you came to his realm, took off your shoes and waited for him to pour you a cup of tea and it had struck him that you were the most stunning thing to exist in all his millennia of living, and could spend a millenia more of just admiring you if you allowed. But you never did.

You always thought something was wrong when he stared at you for too long. Always took it as your cue to leave.

Kazan regretted killing you over and over again.

Maybe if he didn't, you'd be more willing to trust him again.

"Yamaoka Kazan," he said one afternoon. It had slipped out. You were in the middle of talking and then he'd just said it.

"Pardon?"

"My name."

"Oh, well if I'm right, you introduced yourself with your last name first. Out of respect, should I call you Mr Yamaoka?"

That alone sent a shudder down his spine. Kazan barely managed to hide it. The only thing stopping him was his need for you to say it again, say it more intimately. Say it like you meant it. And not his last name.

"No," he said.

You were past that. You deserved more. Deserved everything.

But selfishly, he wanted something from you first.

Hesitantly, you tried his name in your mouth. "... Kazan?"

Kazan.

Suddenly he was just a man, not a killer. A man who had lived and breathed and felt things, and now he felt them for you.

"Well, if we're on that level, my name is Y/n."

"Y/n."

You looked away from him, and he smirked beneath his mask.

It seemed he affected you just as much.

☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆☆…☆…☆…☆…☆…☆

I swear to the universe the only thing i could think of with 'you were staying for tea' was that meme from mulan like 'would you like to stay for dinner' and then the grandma yelling out 'would you like to stay forever' but it's rin

I wanna write a pt. 2 for this but would you be interested in that?

As always, please reblog!

#dbd #kazan yamaoka #kazan yamaoka x reader #the oni #the oni dbd #dbd killers #dbd killers x reader #the oni x reader #dbd the oni x reader #the oni dbd x reader

726 notes · View notes