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#word count: 1-2k words
barblaz-arts · 24 days
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Hello. Me again. I was wondering if you were going to continue your Chaggie fic, "The First Guest". No rush or anything, I know you might be busy, I was just curious.
I am still writing it, yeah. I wrote a bit more just last night actually! Motivation is just hard to keep hold of. Here let me show a little more of the wip
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james-p-sullivan · 10 months
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the thing about nanowrimo is if you end up skipping a day, the next day can be quite daunting but if you skip TWO days?
oh man. Oh Man.
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lavenoon · 1 year
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I had a thought that just wouldn’t leave my brain, and a follow-up question to go alongside it, and it’s only *right* to share, isn’t it? Sharing is caring, after all! ✨
Speaking of caring though… We know the boys care a lot. We’ve had Sun and Moon be scared and worried even to the point of frustration about the people they love being in danger, hurt or otherwise. We’ve seen this with Eclipse and Robin too many times to count, and we also know they care about each other, their other half. We’ve seen them scared… but what about when they’re scared for themselves? And scared for *each other?*
I imagine they’re not often scared for each other in the physical way given their schedules and shared body. If something goes wrong, the other has to deal with it later, yes, but typically after the incident has already passed and what they’re focusing on then is mental support and maybe some body fix-up. Concern, always, but in-the-moment fear for their well-being? That’s harder to come across in their situation. But despite them not being active at the same time often, we know they can wake each other up. And though that’s often on purpose… what happened if it *wasn’t?*
What if, at one point, maybe when Dusk is on an infiltration mission, the targets are *ready*. Maybe not for him specifically, but they know they’re at risk and are prepared for a rat, human or otherwise. And maybe despite how talented Dusk is, that preparation is enough to catch him off-guard.
I imagine Dusk sneaking around a corner, careful and quiet as always, but then he’s spotted. He’s spotted but there’s still a job to do and he’s confident so he rushes *in* instead of *out*, claws extending and ready for a take-down like many of the ones he’s done before— only for a shock to overtake him. And it’s not the kind he’s felt before, it’s not a freezing surprise or a steel-hard revelation.
No. This shock is hot and fierce and *real.*
And it *hurts.* A taser of sorts, specifically meant to subdue those new animatronic agents that keep popping around across the city, and maybe it’s the first time Dusk has seen them, or maybe it’s just the first time he’s been hit by one. But it’s unfamiliar, it’s unplanned, and damn it all, it *hurts.*
And he yells and growls, expecting to be met with a snarky retort as he quivers into the ground, but the pain keeps coming because he’s standing for too long, and the offender doesn’t like that, and even when his knee finally gives out, by then the plan isn’t just to pin him, but it’s to fully knock him out (at least, he hopes that’s as far as they take it). And he has his own electricity in his mechanical veins, even maybe some conferred resistance, but it’s nothing like this, it’s never been turned on him like this, and for however strong Dusk is, at some point, it becomes too much.
And then, it gets worse, because Sun gets woken up by the horrible, horrible pain and *fear* that overtakes his other half, a resounding scream inside their shared mind that he’s never heard before, not like this, not with Dusk not even meaning to let it out, maybe even trying to hold it *in*, but unable to any longer. And it’s almost worse then, for the both of them, when the other half is active. Because Sun is suddenly aware and can maybe feel a dulled out version of the pain, but what’s worse than that is how loudly Dusk’s pain gets to him and his worry and fear mounts for him. It’s unfamiliar, seeing Dusk like this, and it’s absolutely horrifying, especially when he knows there’s nothing he can do, *nothing.* Meanwhile, Dusk is suddenly hit with the realization that he’s making Sun hurt, too, that he’s forcing him to experience even a part of this, that he’s having to sit through this, too, and it’s a new sort of fear and worry as he wishes nothing more for him to retreat and get away and go back because he’ll *handle* this, except he doesn’t trust that, either. And maybe through it all he’s internally yelling for Sun to retreat back but it become a mess inside their mind because Sun is screaming at him, too, but to let him *out*.
Both of them can feel how the two of them being there and active is making things even *worse*, too, then, because systems that are already quite literally being shocked are now being overloaded by double the amount of strong emotions, and mounting, and that only makes them stress more because they might be inorganic… But they have a limit. And they’ve never gotten this close to it before. Not like this. Not *together.*
They’re scared for each other and they’re scared for *themselves* and there’s no way for either of them to help the other or themselves in the moment.
But, of course, it doesn’t get worse than that. They’re saved, one way or another, and everything turns out fine. Maybe the mission is a failure, maybe the boys *do* need to be repaired at least to some degree after that, but it’s nothing the agency can’t get to work fixing.
… But it’s something that stays with them. And it’s something they *remember.*
And this is where I imagine Robin coming in, heart in their throat as they rush to check on their boys, except unlike last time, there aren’t misunderstandings and guilt to talk about. This time, when the boys see Robin, it’s with an unfamiliar flood of relief, safety and a choking feeling in their throat.
What would that be like? The boys actually being comforted for a fright like that? One that honestly, truly, made them worried about what came next and is fresh in their minds, but being given the option of support from their favourite little rival. What would they need? What would they *want?*
(I provided the hurt… will you provide the comfort? <3 )
-🌻 Daye
I will, but first I'll make the angst worse <3
They get out with their eclipse mode. That kind of immediate danger outweighs the risk it carries, and ignoring the risks entirely, that's what that mode is for. They both want out, they need to be out, both in control and away from the danger.
It's not smooth at all, with that foreign electricity still throwing their systems into overdrive, their circuits struggling to contain it all. They run much hotter than they should, and by then, stealth really becomes a non-issue by how impossible it is, even without their cooling fans in overdrive.
They don't think, there's no more need to. They fall back on the basest instincts - there's pain, so make the pain go away.
All the attackers did with their stunt ensured that they end up fighting someone inhumanly strong who no longer cares about casualties.
So they get out, and like an adrenaline rush running out, they just fade back into singular control, barely even noticing as both still process what happened on their own. Maybe some fried circuits, not all joints working as they should, the touch receptors in the area where they were hit totally fried. Limping away, wondering if the leftover tingling is just like an afterimage of the pain, or if their systems got that kind of damaged.
Still they don't think. They just go home.
Only on the porch do they start thinking, hesitating. This is a very new situation that rattled them immensely, and while logically they know they should crawls into their little workshop and to their tools and technical manuals, they just...
They use their key for Y/N's door, and go in.
(There's of course some variables here - is Y/N home? If it's at night, they usually work themself, for some reason not with Dusk. For the sake of the comfort, I'm saying they took the night off for unspecified reasons and are home when they hear their door click shut.)
Y/N, awake because they aren't gonna mess up their nocturnal schedule, is probably upstairs, chilling. Reading a book, or finishing up a little gadget, whatever hobby you want to project.
It's a little earlier than expected, perhaps, so they're not giddy when they rush downstairs - in their line of work, coming home early can go very very well or very very badly.
This one is very very bad.
Moon looks at them, still speechless, not quite sure where to even start, but both Sun (who refused to go into rest mode again, neither even thought about it/ suggested it) and him know they need Y/N right now.
And Y/N sees him - eyes wide, unreadable expression, limping - and cold dread washes through them immediately.
They weren't there, again.
They let them get hurt, again.
Even now that they all know, they still can't protect their partners.
But when Moon takes a hesitant step towards them and crumbles, they push all that away. Rush to him to catch him, and then he's clinging to them like his life depends on it.
(It feels a little like it does. The tingling hasn't stopped yet, and he so desperately wants to feel something, to touch someone who'll make him feel safe.)
Y/N pushes down all questions to first whisper reassurance - he's okay, he'll be fine, they're there, they won't let go, they'll help.
The first words Moon manages to get out?
"Sun's awake, too."
A shift to reassuring them both, acknowledging them both, and a lot of Y/N already checking them for obvious injuries and points of repair. Most damage is internal, though, so they only linger at the torn clothes and the dents left behind by whatever gadget caused the shocks, and they try so, so hard to keep it together for their boys.
But when they do finally break and cry, and Moon just silently, still stunned, wipes those tears away (suddenly it seems so strange. These are tears neither Sun nor him can shed, but they are for them, for the pain they went through), he manages more and more thoughts.
Namely, they are still in the hallway, sitting on the ground.
"Bed."
"We can go to the couch, it's closer -"
"Bed."
And so Y/N helps Moon up the stairs, one hand of his clinging to them, one to the railing. He basically collapses on their bed, and then they crawl next to him, and he buries himself in their arms. They hold him close still, petting and brushing where they can reach, and finally, finally they work up the courage to ask what happened.
"We had to eclipse. We said we'd never do that again."
Technically, not an answer. But it tells Y/N the most terrifying details first. They know Eclipse, capital E, they know how he came to be, why the brothers had a strained relationship, and how scared all of them are of that mode and its risks.
But whatever happened was so bad, scared them so bad, that now Moon is barely talking, barely walking, and made both of them resort to something they fear could erase one or even both of them from existence with one unfortunate glitch.
They cling tighter to Moon, then. 
They know another thing, too. 
“You got out. You got out, and back here, and you’re both still here. It was a tough call to make, but I’m proud of you for making it back.” 
“We didn’t think -” 
“Moon.” 
He glances up, caught in that need to argue (and have Y/N justify their actions, to lift that burden, to absolve them of the perceived failing that going back on their word would spell), but he lets their heavy words interrupt him to look at them. 
Y/N frees their arms to cup his face when he looks up, leaning so close their foreheads and noses touch. There are tears in their eyes, again, and they look at him, pleading.
“Was there a chance that you would have died without an eclipse?” 
The silence speaks for him. 
Somehow, Y/N clings even closer. Their eyes now shut, tears pooling in their corners before running down their face. 
“Then I’m glad you risked it. Please - please let me be glad. Why would I ever not be when it means you could come home? To me? You can’t leave me, please.” 
And the boys got what they wanted - their partner, whom they trust with their life and more (like their brother’s life), telling them they did the right thing. Maybe instinctively, maybe they didn’t carefully consider the risk - but it doesn’t matter, because of course they’re glad they made it home. Sure, they were terrified, and they didn’t even clean up the mess they made, didn’t alert the agency, nothing - 
Because they wanted to go home. 
That’s all they wanted, all they needed, and maybe it was selfish, maybe it was terrifyingly risky, but they made it. And they don’t actually want to regret that. 
So he tightens his grip around them, breaking out of their hold to press close right under their chin, where he can feel their pulse racing. It convinces him, and in turn Sun, that they did make it and they are home, they’re alive, they will be fine, they can get fixed, and things will be okay again.
But they also very much hate to see Y/N this distraught, so Moon digs his fingers into their back (blunt. not the time), to reassure them that he’s there, too. They wrap around him, arms winding around his back, and just tremble. 
“We wanted to come home to you.” 
And that’s a promise, too - that yes, the eclipse mode is a terrifying risk, but that in moments where they have to choose between Death and a Maybe, they will choose the maybe.
They stay like that for a long time, before Y/N slowly starts getting more information out of them. 
And then they’re getting taken care of. 
Eclipse is fortunately not in rest mode when he gets the message that they might have to go to his engineer of trust, if they could crash at his place for a few days? With the offer to call about the details right then, and goes through many emotions at once. Terror, Relief, Surprise (positive), and some weird, deep reassurance that not only does he hear as soon as possible about it, but they actually seek out his presence about it. 
They have their call, and Y/N gives him a rundown of what they know, and that Moon seems a little out of it still but reasonably so for someone in shock. That they’ll do their best to make the trip down as comfortable as possible for them, but they won’t wait to visit until after they’re fixed. 
Eclipse ends the call with a rather shy little “Thank you.”
Y/N then notifies HQ of the situation, giving them the details of what sort of clean up is needed. Then they continue to explain they’re all three taking the next two weeks off, but to please organize an appointment with a trusted engineer in Eclipse’s hometown (: 
Agent River sighs. One of those bone-deep, resigned ones. 
“Is there any way we can speed up your family gathering so we aren’t down our best three agents during the mission you’re already booked for?” 
“Well, it’d save an awful lot of gas money and time if we didn’t have to drive out.” 
“We’ll send you the location for the pick-up, you’ll get your flight. You’ll be back for your mission. It’s an important one.” 
“We’ll get them in working order, first.” 
“Don’t assume unacknowledged means undone, agent. Both agents Dusk and Dawn get full coverage regarding repairs for on the job injury. Go get ready, save all of us time.” 
“... Two hours. I’ll need to make sure they can at least walk, it would make things easier.” 
Agent River just hangs up. She hasn’t got all day, and has calls to make. 
Y/N does fix some minor wiring, probably only a temporary fix. They all stick close the next few days, and while they do go on their mission together, they’re a bit more on edge than they used to be. 
That will stretch on into the long term for a good while, where they all refuse to work without the other. It slows down Dusk/ Dawn’s performance a good bunch, because they now stick to Robin’s schedule. They’re still doing good work - but they earn a couple tired glares from River when even the easiest mission becomes a team effort. 
They ease up on it only because they also carry a lot more gadgets of the weaponized kind, courtesy of Eclipse. They even book a room in the Research and Development department to test them all out, to ensure they know exactly how to use/ activate them should the need arise. It leads to a lot of excited R&D staff and Eclipse gaining a bit of a reputation (positive, of course) at their HQ
It stays with them all, though, and they don’t know if they will ever go back to how it was before. Things never really went back to “before” after Robin got stabbed, after all - there’s still nights where Dusk is just a little quieter as he shadows them, or afternoons where Sun just traces the scar through their clothes, because he knows exactly where it is.
But that’s okay, actually. They have each other, and that’s worth it. That’s what they have each other for. 
And if they feel a little more grateful for that, no one could fault them for that.
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marssie · 2 years
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you want to read my the long dark au fic so bad it makes you look stupid. also more painting practice ig if u even care
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iamthepulta · 1 year
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22.5K PRE-EDITING
/smacks table GOD THAT WAS FUN TO WRITE. GOD MY BRAIN IS FRIED.
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chameliyun · 2 months
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Fic Rec Friday - #27
Intro post | tag
Rec #27: So You Need To Get Into A.Z. Fell & Co.; Now What? (A Guide For Unfortunate Bookworms) - c4llistrad Fandom: Good Omens Rating: G Pairing: implied Aziraphale/Crowley Word count: 1,838 Summary (copied from fic): London’s antique enthusiasts and rare lit nerds alike know that if you’re looking for a specific vintage or antique book, you have a good chance of ending up in A.Z. Fell & Co. as a last resort. And if you’ve ever been in (or are currently in) this predicament, you know how much of an absolute nightmare it is trying to even get in the door. Other notes: somehow this concept of "book nerds trying to get into the most customer-hostile bookshop in London" turned into a multi-author extended universe of fics, including such lovely concepts as a book collectors' forum (the one that started it all I think), tumblr theories, and people's reactions to S2 Gabriel. look around; there are several of these lovely fics, but this one is probably my favorite
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green-fifteen · 3 months
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Perennial (hardy to zones 5 and 6)
Prompt: New Beginnings
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles & Danny
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 1.324
Summary: Stiles is a California transplant in New York who needs a friend. Danny gives him coffee.
Stiles moved out of California for college. He'd thought about it for a long time, but his mind was made up when things ended badly with Derek. Actually, maybe that's an understatement. Things with Derek ended really badly. As in, I don't want to even look at the stuff you left in my bedroom badly. So, east coast it was.
Getting into the school of his choice wasn't a great trial. He'd already been getting mail from some of the biggest names in that part of the country, he just chose the best-sounding one, paid the application fee, and wrote a trite little essay. It was easy for him. The hard part was what came after.
Because after applying, after being accepted, and after flying clear across the country, for the first time in his life Stiles found himself truly alone. The only person he knew in the whole state of New York was his roommate, who he almost never saw. Kevin had a girlfriend nearby who he stayed with most of the time.
It was hard. He went to every orientation event that first week of the semester, but even though he could be friendly and act interested and chat the ears off a crowd of people, something made him feel... different. Separate from his peers, somehow. He thought it probably had a lot to do with fighting for his life in graveyards and defeating nightmare monsters most people only see in storybooks. It was like, because he couldn't talk about the stuff that actually went on in his life, he had almost nothing to say about himself. And he certainly couldn't relate to his year group in most regards. Oh, the highlight of Jason's senior year was coming in first place in the school triathlon? That's cool, Jason. The best part of my year was when I got stabbed by a witch but didn't die. Do you want to see my scar? or What's that, Bethany? Your high school boyfriend got arrested for shoplifting? You won't believe what my ex-boyfriend has been arrested for! Not exactly the kind of thing that makes a good first impression.
So for about two weeks, Stiles went to class, then back to his dorm. He stopped by the food hall for lunch and dinner. He tried hanging out one time with another boy on his floor, but it hadn't worked out. Stiles was trying not to take it personally, but being ghosted after one gaming session was a hard hint to miss. He was beginning to consider the possibility that he might not be meant for normal people. He wasn't even meant for werewolf people, if Derek was any indication. Maybe Beacon Hills broke him, somehow.
But then, after a boring and idiotic Intro Compsci class one day, he went to a cafe.
It was called Nitro Java, but Stiles didn't know that at the time. All he knew was that he could smell coffee wafting out from the door and he still had two more classes that day. He needed a cup of coffee to hold himself together, like he was an old shoe and coffee was a shoelace. Or something. He really needed caffeine, so he followed his nose in and to the counter.
When he managed to tear his eyes away from the menu, he looked down into a very familiar pair of brown eyes.
"Danny?" he said, voice a little quiet with surprise.
Danny looked back at him like it was typical. Typical Stiles, moving to the same city as him at the same time and walking into the cafe while he was on register. He sighed and his eyes crinkled a little like he might want to smile but he didn't.
"I feel like I should be more surprised," he said. Then, "Do you know what you want to order?"
And that was that for a while. They hadn't ever been friends before, back at home. And it wasn't like Jackson had ever talked to any of them long enough for Danny to even be a possible topic of conversation. It made sense that Stiles had no idea he would be there. And it made sense why Danny had no special interest in befriending him now, either. Even their unwilling extracurricular activities (People In The Know About Weird Shit In Beacon Hills Club, Alive Chapter) hadn't made them grow any closer. They were just two guys who knew each other. Why should that change now that they were two guys who knew each other 2,000 miles from home?
But it seemed to, for Stiles. He scrolled through his contacts to see if he still had Danny's number, just to check. He was surprised at his own relief when he found it. He didn't send anything. It was just nice to know there was someone walking around campus who knew his name and had met his dad. Something about that made it easier to be lonely.
When the weather started to turn and Stiles had to buy a coat (the part of him that would always be a California Boy was appalled and dismayed), he went into Nitro Java again. The shortening days and the piling assignments made him cranky and when he was cranky, he craved caffeine. As he approached the counter, he saw Danny again, standing there behind the counter wearing a purple apron with a name tag on it.
Stiles smiled at it, hitching his backpack higher onto his shoulder to free one hand. "Daniel, huh?" He reached into his pocket to grab his wallet.
"Yes," he replied. "The manager made the name tag when I got hired. Another americano?"
"Please."
After he paid and Danny turned around to make the espresso, Stiles piped up, "So, what are you studying?"
"Computer Engineering." He didn't turn around.
"Dude! That's so cool. You could be like the next Tony Stark! You probably won't have enemies from outer space, though." He stopped talking, awkwardly pausing even though he didn't know why.
Danny snorted and poured the shot into a cup of hot water, then slid it across the counter to him. "The stuff we've seen? I'm not so sure."
Stiles grinned and wrapped both hands around the cup to warm them, breathing in the smell and the steam. "Ugh, you're right. It would be just our luck to discover aliens are real, too. What do you wanna bet they're already here?"
"Nothing."
"Come on, nothing? You don't think there could be aliens here, among us? Mingling and assimilating?"
Danny crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back onto the counter toward Stiles. "Even if there are, I don't want to put money on it. I lose either way. If I'm right, that means we'll run into aliens. And knowing our history, they'll probably want to kill us. If I'm wrong, I have to give you my money."
"This is why you're going to be the next genius billionaire philanthropist," Stiles said, laughing. "That sharp business acumen."
They smiled at each other. Stiles felt warmth in the part of his brain where he usually felt cold and strange. They looked away at the same time and Stiles cleared his throat.
"So, hey. I'm taking a Compsci class and it's kicking my ass," he said, lying. "And I still have your number. Is it okay if I text you sometimes, if I need help? Since you're basically like the Computer Avenger."
Danny quirked his lips without turning his head. "Sure," he said easily. "Philanthropist, remember?"
Stiles smiled back. Even though the leaves were falling off the trees and the chill outside bit at his ears through his new winter cap, it felt like spring where he was standing. As he breathed in deep, he thought he could smell soil and rain and growing things. He took a sip of coffee and felt his mind open up around the possibility of a new beginning.
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chrononautintraining · 4 months
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Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning have a conversation about rules, kindness, and the keeping of wine.
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canadiankakashi · 11 months
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I’m 1/5-1/7th the way done with one of my event fics and i am oh so very excited to finish it up and see where it goes
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cozage · 8 months
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It's me again, feel free to ignore this if you're only taking 1 request per person
Congrats on 2k followers ♡
I would like to request, option 1, the reader asking "can I give you a kiss? If you don't like it, you can can return it" with Zoro, Sanji and Luffy (if you can also with Law, Ace and/or Kid)
Thank you in advance, hope you have a lovely day ♡
Nonsense! If you send it in and I like it, I'll write it! This was a fun request too :) I would've done them all if I had the time <3
Characters: gn reader x Zoro, Sanji, Luffy Total word count: 740
Returned Kisses
Zoro
“Zoro!” you sang, skipping across the deck. “I have a question.”
Zoro groaned. Your questions were never as simple as you initially made them out to be. 
“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked, your cheeks turning a cute rose color. “If you don’t like it, I can return it!”
Zoro scowled at you, trying to decipher your strange slew of words. “How do you return a kiss?” he asked. He set down the weights he had been using, trying not to sound too interested. 
“I guess you’ll just have to see!”
His eyes scanned the ship. There was nobody else around. And he had to admit, he was curious how your lips tasted. 
“Make it quick, then.” He sighed, trying to act as if he were apathetic to the whole idea, but his pinkened cheeks did not go overlooked. 
Your lips pressed against his, and he could taste a distinct sugary sweetness Normally he hated sweets, but he found it quite enjoyable upon your lips. 
When you finally pulled away, he quickly wetted his own lips with his tongue, desperate to get another taste. 
“I think I’ll return it,” he said, looking at you. 
“Oh.” Your shoulders slumped in defeat. “Not very good then, was-?”
He pushed his lips back against yours with a sort of desperation and hunger that you weren’t expecting, and your mouth fell open in surprise against his. He quickly pushed his tongue past your lips, hungry  for more of your sweetness. 
When he finally pulled away, he shot you a cocky smirk. “Maybe you should try again later. I might not return it next time.”
Sanji
“Sanji!” You opened the swinging door to the kitchen, searching for him. 
“Do you need something, my love?” he asked. “Whatever you want, I will gladly give you.”
“Great!” you smiled. “I was thinking I could give you something, though.”
“Me?” He looked around the room, trying to figure out what you meant. 
“Yeah! I was thinking I could give you a kiss,” you offered. “If you didn’t like it-Sanji!”
The poor cook had collapsed to the ground, sent into shock by your offer. He seemed to be mumbling and babbling words, but you couldn’t make them out. 
You knelt down next to him, pulling his head into your lap to make sure he was okay. 
“Oh, Y/N love,” he whispered, finally coming back to his senses. “I had this strange dream where you offered to kiss me.”
You laughed. “I did offer to kiss you.”
His eyes were suddenly clear now, and very focused on your lips. So you bent down and pressed them against his own. You could hear his breathing become shallow, but you steeled your nerves and stayed there for a moment before you pulled away. 
“If you don’t like it, you can return it,” you whispered. 
Sanji’s eyes were practically hearts as he stared up at you. “Can I still return it even if I did like it?”
You giggled, crinkling your nose as you laughed. “I suppose so.”
“Good!” He reached up and pulled you back down to him, keeping his lips pressed into yours until Luffy ran into the kitchen looking for more food. 
Luffy
“Luffy! Come here!” you called up to the captain. He was in his seat on the figurehead, like always. 
“You come here!” he yelled back. Rubber arms extended towards you and whipped you up next to him. “What’s up?”
“Can I give you a kiss?” you asked. “You can return it if-”
His lips smashed against yours, and you could feel his mouth stretching into a smile. You couldn’t help but smile too, your head foggy with giddiness at his willingness to say yes. 
He finally pulled away from you, his laugh filling the air around you. “That was nice.”
“I was supposed to give you a kiss, Luffy!” You were trying to scold him, but you couldnt wipe that stupid smile off your face. 
“Do you want to give me one?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “You can give me another one!”
You leaned back into another kiss, his arms already wrapped around your neck. He was trying not to be too eager, but once your fingers tangled into his raven locks, he abandoned all common sense and worked to devour as much of you as he could get.
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minihotdog · 5 months
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Caught Red Handed // Part 1
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Summary: Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel
Part 2
Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!Reader
a/n: Most likely gonna be a follow up fic for this, already brainstorming
c/w: oral (F receiving), a little penetration
word count: 2k
***
You sat on the end of the couch curled up in a blanket, completely enthralled by the book in your hands. Your nose is buried inside the pages and you only move to readjust your glasses every once in a while.
Soap saunters into the kitchen to get some water, noticing you in a trance-like state as he reaches for a glass. He calls your name to no avail. Eventually, he gives up and plops down on the other end of the couch and your eyes rip away from the book to him. You cautiously put the book down on your lap, hoping he hadn’t caught some of the words.
“What are ye readin’ tha’ has ye blushin’ like tha’?”
“Huh?” You pretend to not know what he’s talking about and try, nonchalantly, to cover the book with your blanket. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just a little warm.”
He eyes you, not believing a word of what you’re saying and you try to play it off as if your soul didn’t jump out of your skin from him interrupting you while reading the most filthy paragraphs of your life. 
Soap raises an eyebrow at you, a smirk appears on his face. Heat continues to rise to your face as his muscles bulge while he scratches the back of his neck. He always lounged around in a pair of gray sweats, chest exposed. You always assumed you were used to it until you were close enough to take all of him in. The Scottish flag on his left pec and a quote on his ribs you had yet to get close enough to read, and worst of all, the sheer size of him. 
“Yer full o’ shite,” He accuses you playfully. “Let me see then?” The two of you stare at each other for a moment before you toss the blanket at him as a distraction and take off running. He fights off the blanket and is hot on your heels as you try to hide the book in your room. 
He comes up behind you and snatches it from your hands. 
“Johnny! No!” He holds the book above his head and you’re jumping up, trying to take it from him.
“Alright, alright. I’ll give it back.” You put your hand out and he turns, running into his room. You follow him only for the door to shut in your face with a click.
“Give me my book back!” You try to open the door, banging on it when it won’t budge.
“Be quiet, I’m readin’.” He shouts through the door.
You put your forehead on the door, cursing yourself for reading such a thing when you had someone like him around. 
“Why’s there a big lad wearin’ a kilt on the front?”
Your eyes close and your hands cover your face. You stood there about to die of embarrassment thinking about how this couldn’t get any worse, until…
“His body was as hard as steel, forged frae generations of resistance against the soothern British armies - fuckin’ Brits -.” He murmurs the last bit before continuing. “Her hands ran ower his muscles as he slid his throbbin’ member intae her soaked…WOAH!”
“Johnny, stop!” You plea for him to stop reading. Your ears hurt at the sound of it being read out loud.
The room falls silent for a while and you call out his name once again. The quiet fuels your embarrassment. It feels like a thousand years go by before he opens the door and stands in the frame, holding the book at his waistline. He points at you with a wicked smile,
“Oh, yer a dirty, lass.” You snatch the book from him and stop towards your room.
“John Mactavish, you are so nosey!” He laughs as you shut and lock your door so you can read in peace.
***
You tip-toe out of your room, not quite ready to confront your roommate after the events earlier in the day. You poked your head into the kitchen, seeing his mohawk peaking over the other side of the half wall separating the two rooms. You quietly enter the kitchen, turning your back to him to try and open the refrigerator, hoping that the TV is loud enough to cover the sound of the door opening.
“Y/n, ye done being mad?” He taunts, resting with his forearms on the half wall, looking right at you. You stick your tongue out at him and he chuckles. He never took you seriously when you were mad at him. To piss you off, he’d often tell you that you reminded him of one of those little dogs, angry as hell and completely unaware of how small they were.
He motions to the couch, “Come watch a movie wit me.” You shake your head and he whines, “O’ c’mon, y/n.” 
“Fiiiine.”
You walk over and sit on the other end of the small couch, your nerves building up in your stomach. Soap is wrapped up in your blanket. You glance over at him as you rub the fabric on your pj shorts. He scratches his scruff and his eyes slowly meet yours. He wiggles his eyebrows at you, “Wha’s wrong, lass?”
Your eyes drop, heat rising to your cheeks from being caught staring.
“Nothing.”
“Lassie, there’s nothin’ wrong wit readin’ those types o’ books.” A mischievous smirk plays on his lips, “There’s nothin’ wrong wit wantin’ a big Scotsman tae throw ye around and fuck ye silly either.”
You hide yourself with your hands, not wanting him to see the horrified look on your face. He scoots over to you, wrapping you in a bear hug.
“Oh, innocent little y/n has a dark side, I cannae believe it!”
“Nooo!” You squeal, “Stop bringing it up!”
You turn to push him away but he locks an arm on both sides of the armrest behind you, trapping you. His blue eyes bore into your soul making you squirm.
“So, tell me, Ye read tha’ because ye like it? Or did ye wish it was another Scotsman ye know?” He tilts his head, looking up as if he’s trying to remember something. “His grasp on my throat tightened as his thrusts became harder, pushin’ me over the edge… Is that what she said?” You cover his mouth with your hands and he grabs your wrists in one hand, pulling them off. 
“I’ll make yer little dreams come true, just tell me ye want me.”
Your breath catches as you try to speak, “Johnny…” You’re left not knowing what to say to him. He catches you off guard, pulling you onto your back by your hips. His body forces your legs open and he rests his weight on his forearms. His lips graze your ear, “I see ye lookin’ me up and down all the time, lass.” His hand travels down your body to cup your pussy through your shorts. A wave of heat shoots through your body. “I hear ye moanin’ my name at night when ye play with yerself, now I catch ye readin’ a book about some lad wrecking a wee thing.” He pushes the hem against your clit and you grip his shoulders. 
“Jus’ admit it and I’ll be more than happy to give it to ye.” His hand grabs your jaw, giving it a taunting little shake. He holds himself above you, eyes glued to your lips, whispering, “C’mon, c’mon,” encouraging you to answer.
You find the courage to speak, the fire coursing through your body is unbearable.
“Johnny, please.”
“Please, what?”
“Please, fuck me.”
“Steamin’ bloody Jesus.” He mutters before coming down to kiss you, pressing his bulge against you through his sweats. His lips move with yours, his kiss leaves you feeling hypnotized. By the time he begins pulling your shorts down, you’re seeing stars. He throws the shorts off to the side and his fingers run over the wet patch on your panties. He lets out a shaky breath, and he takes in the sight of you. Legs spread for him with your nipples poking through your oversized t-shirt. Your big doe eyes watch his every move as he positions himself lower on the couch, throwing your legs over his back.
He kisses down your thighs, nipping at the soft flesh, until he reaches where you want him most. He leaves one last kiss on your clit through the fabric before pulling it down your legs. He groans, watching you drip for him. He parts your lips with his thumbs and licks a stripe up to your clit. “Oh, lass.” He moans, tasting you on his tongue. He leaves slow licks on your clit, savoring the small sounds he’s coaxing out of you. He looks up at you from between your legs,  as you squirm, 
“Quit fuckin’ tryin’ to get away fra’ me.” He wraps his arms around your thighs forcing them to squeeze his head and continues lapping at your clit. He was usually impatient when he was in this position, wanting to draw out the most erotic sounds from whoever he was blessed with his tongue, to drink from them like a man stuck in the desert. Of course, he would do the same to you, but at this moment he wanted to revel in what he had fantasized about doing for so long. His beloved roommate whom he dreamed of, and spent so many nights imagining beneath him had his head in between her legs. 
He closes his lips around your clit flicking it repeatedly. The attack on your sensitive nub has you arching your back. His name falls from your lips, your eyes clamp shut, one hand tangling in his overgrown mohawk and the other digging its nails into his arm. 
He goes back and forth from flicking your clit quickly and leaving long licks, lapping up your wetness. 
“Johnny,” You breathe out. His name being drawn out from you causes his cock to ache every single time. One of his hands rips your shirt up, exposing your breasts. He kneads the soft flesh, giving the mound a gentle slap. He moans when your hips move against his mouth.
“Oh, what a good girl.” He gives his head a shake, letting his tongue move with it. The motion has you mewling as your orgasm begins to build up. 
“Johnny, p-please I’m gonna-” Your words trail off as he eats you out like you’re his last meal. His scruff scratches against your thighs leaving the skin irritated as he bobs his head, licking away. His pace doesn’t slow when you gasp and begin squeezing around nothing. Your hand keeps him in place while you ride out your high. His name fills the room in a chant. Your body jerks violently as the waves continue hitting you even longer due to him not wanting to stop.
He cleans you up, groaning at the mess you made. His mouth leaves a gentle kiss on your overly sensitive clit before he rises from his position. He wipes his chin off, his eyes cloudy just like yours.
“Fuck, lass. Yer addictin’.” His rough calloused hands run over your curves. He pulls your shirt completely off and leans down to give you a deep kiss. He trails down leaving wet kisses all over your neck. He goes further, leaving hickeys on your breasts, catching one of your perky nubs in his mouth. He then licked from between your breasts and up your neck, giving you one more kiss before pulling away to free himself from his sweats. He kicks them off and kneels in front of you completely bare. The sight of him and his body has you dripping once again. His piercing blue eyes were darker than normal, his hair a mess from you holding onto it for dear life, his muscles contracting with every movement. Your eyes run over him, admiring every part of him until you get further down. 
“Oh dear god, Johnny.” You gasp. He lets go of his member and it slaps down on your stomach. He was long and thick, the head was bright red with a bead of precum threatening to fall from it. “No wonder you’re such a cocky ass.”
He laughs at your playful insult. 
“We’ll see how much talkin’ yer gonna be doing in a second.”
He rubs the tip on your sensitive clit causing you to jump. He teases you by running the length of his cock in between your pussy lips, collecting the wetness. Both your eyes are glued to the pornographic scene.
“I better never catch you readin’ one of those books again, lovie.”
“Why’s t-that?”
“Because I’m a better fuck than tha’ clown you were readin’ about.”
You roll your eyes at his cockiness. In all truth, he was a little upset that you were drooling over some scot in a book when you had him right here. His competitiveness with the fictional character was enough to fuel him. 
He positions his tip at your entrance, poking into you slightly.
“Alright, lass. Deep breath.” 
You listen, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.
“Ready?” He looks down at you with a gentle smile. You nod your head and he focuses back on your dripping core. “Finally got ye where I want ye.” He mutters, shifting his weight. The fat head of his cock slides into you, your eyes go wide and your mouth falls open.
2K notes · View notes
hotchscvm · 9 months
Text
leaked nudes — two
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pt. 1
pairings: aaron hotchner x reader
summary: you just wanted penelope’s feedback on your nudes. its hard for her to do so when you send them to your boss instead.
word count: 2k (another short one)
warnings: the word panties, stealing of shirts, reader checking out aaron’s ass, a mention of leonado dicaprio, mentions of suicidal thoughts
The next few days for him is torture.
Every time he looks at you, or even in your general vicinity, he’s reminded of the images he can never forget. Not that he’s been able to stop thinking about them, in the shower, in his bed, in his office, in the field—it was consuming him and he didn’t mind.
Aaron had resorted to wearing his darker suits, hoping they’d conceal his raging boner (an instance that only happened around you or when he thinks of you or when anyone even speaks your name). Unfortunately for exhausted cock, you noticed the change and complimented him on it, leaving him to lock himself in his hotel room and rub out a quick one.
After another unsuccessful day, Aaron sends the team back to the hotel, following them a few minutes afterward. He groans inwardly as he sees you coming out of the bathroom, knowing well enough he’d have to drive you to the hotel as the team had taken two of the SUVs back. He didn’t think he could stand another second alone with you without wanting to pin you against the wall and fuck you until the whole city knew his name.
You smiled at him as he opened the door for you, and he thinks he may develop heart palpitations with the number of times you make his heart stop—Aaron is certain one of these days his heart won’t continue and you may literally kill him with your smile.
Despite his cock stirring in his pants, the drive back to the hotel was lovely, though he can confidently say any time with you is divine. Though, he does rear-end the car in front of them when you unbutton your top, showing a white tank top under. Even worse when the seat belt tightens around you when he steps on the brake hard, causing it to accentuate your breasts, stuffed between them. He thinks he’s finally gone insane, being jealous over a seatbelt.
He opens the door for you once again, getting out of the car and the doors to the hotel. Aaron wonders if you can hear his heart beating wildly out of his chest when you link your arm through his, leaning slightly against him as you walk to the elevators.
Once you get to your room, you sigh loudly, taking off your tank top and throwing it on the unmade bed. You were feeling the effects of being unable to solve the case and being in Kansas City was like being stuck in an elevator running out of air.
After taking a shower, you realize your go bag was running out of clothes as you’ve been here for nearly a week. You were too tired to do laundry in the hotel’s laundry room and you knew Spencer was sleeping by now so you quickly wrapped a towel around your body and walked next door to Aaron’s room.
Knocking, you secured the towel around you, chuckling at the thought of flashing your boss. When he opens the door, he’s met with the sight of you in just the towel, nearly slamming the door close at the thought.
Smiling sheepishly at him, you said. “Hey, can I borrow another shirt? I don’t really want to wear another dirty one and I haven’t done laundry yet.”
It takes him a few seconds to answer, his eyes never leaving your face. Aaron nods, opening his door further. “Um, yeah, of course. Let me just see what I have.”
You step a foot inside his room as he gets a shirt from his duffel bag, checking out his ass as he had taken his blazer off, your view now unconstructed. You wanted nothing more than to have his belt wrapped around your hands instead of his pants.
Aaron gets a shirt from his bag, handing it to you. It’s blue and the material is rather thin from its usage. “Is this alright?”
“Yeah, thanks again, Hotch.” you flash him a grin, walking out of the room. “I promise not to steal this one like the others.”
He chuckles, waving it off. “You can steal as many of my shirts as you want.”
You laugh, opening your door. Truthfully, you liked his shirts better than any of yours. Most of them were faded but they still smelled like him and you often slept in one of them after stealing the first one. You preferred them to the clothing you’ve stolen from Spencer or Derek, though Emily’s hoodie was a game changer.
Thankfully, you didn't have to share rooms so you got dressed in Aaron’s large t-shirt and put on a pair of pink panties. Like the rest, the hem of the shirt fell down just below your ass, leaving you mostly covered.
Your phone buzzes as you get into bed, Penelope’s message causing you to chuckle.
Pen
I’ve been waiting not-so-patiently for these sexy pics.
Before joining the BAU, you had regularly sent nudes to the men on your roster, wanting nothing more than fun and compliments to boost your confidence. During a girl’s night, and after four shots of vodka, you admitted to Penelope you liked getting feedback on the pictures you took and in both your drunk stage, she had agreed to be one of your critics.
And while you slowly decreased your roster, Penelope was always the first person you sent them to, and she’d give you feedback based on how the picture was taken and what you were wearing. Multiple times she had asked where you’d gotten your lingerie.
So it wasn’t uncommon for you to send her nudes before you sent them to anyone. Not that you had anyone in mind to send this particular set of pictures to, but it was nice to get compliments from a friend after a long day. She was like your agent if you were famous, steering you in the right way.
Texting her you’d send them in a few minutes, you got ready to take several photos. Some included the bathroom mirror, some included you in Aaron’s shirt and two showed you completely naked. Inappropriate use of your boss’ t-shirt made the pictures hotter to you, though no one but you would know. You giggled at the thought of Aaron seeing you use his shirts in your nudes—that would be mortifying.
As if he could read your mind, your phone buzzed again, Aaron’s name popping up in the text notification. Clicking on the message, you saw he wanted to see pictures you had taken from the coroner of the most recent victim.
You’re about to send them to him when Penelope’s text pops up on the top of your screen, reminding you once again to send them. Grinning, you click on your naked images and send them before responding back to Aaron’s message about the dead body. As you click send, you put your phone on the bedside table and pick up the tv remote, putting on whatever the first show you came across.
Normally, Penelope would take about a minute to “study” the photos you’ve sent her but just as you turned the tv on, your phone buzzed, her text lighting up the screen. Frowning, you unlock your phone, confused by her text.
Pen
Ewww, why’d you send me the vic’s dead body???
Heart pounding, you tap on your messages with the blonde, heart dropping when you realize you sent her the pictures from the coroners instead of the promised nudes. You don’t bother to apologize to her when you see you’ve sent Aaron Hotchner six pictures.
And if you didn’t send Penelope your nudes …
Hands shaking you clicked on Aaron’s name, throwing your phone across the room after seeing a photo of your bare cunt in the message you sent him. It hits the wall, denting it slightly as you stare in its general direction, absolutely mortified.
What the actual fuck.
You rush towards your fallen phone, calling Penelope, face red and hands shaking. “Shit, shit, shit. Answer the phone.”
“Hey, when I mean send pictures–”
“I accidentally sent my nudes to Hotch.” you blurt out, plopping back on your bed.
“WHAT?”
Groaning, you banged your head on the mattress, wanting nothing more than to switch places with the corpse you took a picture of. “I meant to send them to you but I guess I switched you up by mistake—I don’t know, I’m really tired and I sent our boss pictures of my tits and pussy, Penelope!”
Silence meets your confession, and you only hear her breathing for a few seconds. “It’s … I don’t … What … I mean, it's not as bad as you’re thinking. Has he seen them yet?”
“How would I know?” you hissed. Pacing back and forth in your room, you bit your lip, worried. “Oh, my God. He’s so going to fire me, or worse: he’s going to want to talk to me about it instead of just ignoring it. OH, MY FUCK.”
Penelope chuckled quietly. “To be fair, they’re probably good pictures.”
“PENELOPE GARCIA.” you whisper-shouted, fidgeting with the hem of your—Aaron’s—shirt. Oh, how you wanted to crumble on your knees and die. “This isn’t like I accidentally sent them to Spence or Derek, I sent them to Aaron Hotchner. It’s like the worst-case scenario. I’d rather send my pussy to Rossi than Hotch.”
“Really? You’d rather send them to Rossi?” she questioned, amused and almost as mortified at the situation, though for different reasons.
“I’d rather send nudes to Rossi than Derek,” you confessed, running a hand through your hair. “At least with Rossi we can laugh it off but Derek would probably tease me about it until I do something more embarrassing. Oh, God, I’m so going to get fired. I might as well shoot my brains out before he tells me to come to his room to talk.”
“Or … you could go to his room and … you know,” Penelope replied, her tone flirty.
“Leonardo Dicaprio would date a woman over twenty-five years old before that happens, Pen.” you groaned, looking longly at the gun on your bedside table—not that you would actually consider it but, oh to be dead. “I’m actually going to die of embarrassment.”
Before she can reply, someone knocks on your door and you have a suspicion about who it is. You hurriedly say goodbye to the tech analysis, heart heavy as you walk to the door. You think about breaking the hotel window and jumping off from the fourth story but he knocks again, leaving you no choice but to open the door.
Aaron Hotchner stands on the other side, eyes crazed and shirt unbuttoned. You open your mouth to apologize, to make up an excuse, to do some damage control but it seems as if he has other ideas.
He takes a step forward, hands encasing your face as he kisses you. You freeze in shock, and he takes the opportunity to back you against the wall, a hand tilting your jaw and the other tangling in your hair. He bit your lip and you squeal quietly in surprise, his tongue slipping between your lips.
After a few seconds of trying to wrap your head around your boss kissing you, you kiss him back, closing your eyes as you enjoy his lips on yours. His hands drift down your back, squeezing your ass briefly before reaching the hem of your–his–shirt, pulling it up and exposing the pink panties you wore.
He pulls away, both of you breathing hard. Aaron glances down, smirking at the color of your thong before looking back at you, taking a step away and reluctantly taking his hands off of you. You don’t realize you’re whimpering, objecting.
“Do you want this?” he asks, eyes piercing and panting. He still wore his suit, but his shirt was half unbuttoned. You could see his chest peeking from them.
You nodded, taking a step closer to him, bringing you to his touch. “Yes.”
Aaron’s hands are immediately on you again, lips on yours as he whispered. “Good. Tonight, you’ll be filming my cock fucking your needy cunt instead of your fingers.”
a/n: i wanted to write smut but i gotta save my smut juices (ew) for bad ideas 2. also thank u to @callm3c0nfus3d and @gublersgibson for convincing me to do pt 2 :))))
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gigabyte-flare · 11 months
Text
Insatiable (Part 1)
Summary: You are a researcher for D.S.O. who is responsible for studying Leon Kennedy as Las Plagas overtakes him, maybe even finding a cure. He starts to take a liking to you, too much of a liking to you.
Word Count: 2k
Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.
A/N: Heavily inspired by this artwork by @chanif-art on Tumblr along with Project Scorpion by @tagzpite. Literally could not get this idea out of my head until I wrote it down. Definitely going to be another series. We're also going to pretend D.S.O. was founded way sooner than 2011 k byeeeeee
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“I fought a war and I learned how to win, but how do you fight when the enemy’s within?”
You step out of an elevator led by two armed D.S.O. operatives in tactical gear deep underground at HQ, your white lab coat flowing gently as you walk forward. Grasped in your right hand is a voice recorder. You and the operatives go through a series of heavy steel doors leading you into the bowels of the underground facility.
Is all this really necessary? you think to yourself as you’re led deeper into the abyss.
Finally, you’re brought to a single cell enclosed with clear polycarbonate panels with steel reinforcements. In this cell was a man sitting in a chair that was bolted into the floor, his hands chained behind his back and his legs chained to the legs of the chair. This man is Agent Leon S. Kennedy. You approach one of the panels closest to the steel door keeping him in. 
Switching the voice recorder on and bringing it to your mouth, you state your name before continuing, “The year is 2004. The subject is field agent Leon Scott Kennedy, currently 27 years old and exhibiting the late stages of Las Plagas infestation, his body is covered in dark, vein like marks. Subject is currently slumped over in the chair. He appears to be catatonic.”
Bringing the recorder away from your mouth, you motion to one of the operatives to guard the door. You input a passcode into a key panel next to the door. It lets out a hiss as it slowly swings open. As you step in, the door swings closed and locks.
You bring the recorder back to your mouth and continue, “Agent Kennedy?”
You watch as Leon slowly lifts his head, his face completely covered in the dark veins, his once blue eyes now have a slight red tinge to them, it makes your stomach twist in sorrow, he used to be such a handsome man.
“Subject appears to still have some cognitive ability left as he immediately recognized his name. We’re still trying to understand how he hasn’t broken down now that the alpha Plagas host, Osmund Saddler, has been destroyed--”
“I’m right here, you know,” Leon suddenly spoke, making you jump.
“Ag-Agent Kennedy!” you reply, eyes wide in shock that he’s able to speak. 
“Please, just call me Leon, sweetheart.”
His dark gaze seemed to pierce straight into your very soul. You collect yourself, clearing your throat.
“How are you feeling, Leon?”
Leon looks down at himself, tugging gently at his restraints before looking back up at you, “all things considered, I actually feel pretty damn good.”
“That’s… good, I guess,” you reply, your nervousness clear in your voice. 
You hadn’t prepared for this, every researcher that attempted to interact with him got absolutely nothing out of him, hence why they sent you down. You argued with them, not seeing the point but now you began to realize that the difference was they were all men, you were a woman. 
“Awww… there’s no need to be so nervous, sweetheart, it’s just me, Leon Kennedy. I promise I don’t bite,” he says, a small smirk appearing on his lips, “hard.”
“Do you know where you are and why you’re here, Leon?”
He lets out a chuckle, “yeah, I’m in D.S.O.’s research facility because I’m turning into a monster.”
“That’s putting it rather bluntly, but yes, that’s correct.”
“About time they sent someone cute down here to visit me, the rest were much too dull. If I wasn’t chained up, I’d ask you out to dinner and a movie.”
You feel yourself blushing, “that’s… very kind of you Leon, however that won’t be happening anytime soon, I’m afraid.”
“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name,” he growls, a sinister grin overtaking him.
Your heart is pounding out of your chest as your eyes widen at him. This wasn’t like Leon at all, the parasite was clearly twisting his thoughts. You panic, turning around to motion the operatives to open the door and let you out. As soon as you’re out of the cell, you briskly walk away from the cell as fast as you can, not once looking back. You could have swore you heard Leon’s laugh echo after you. 
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“I am not going back down there, are you insane?!”
“You’re the first person he has actually spoken to since he got back from Spain,” the lead researcher, Bryan said, setting your voice recorder down onto his desk. 
“So? Your point? I’m not doing it and that’s final!”
“Look, this recording gives us valuable data on him, it’s clear that the Plagas inside him is mutating into a more dominant strain. It must know it’s the last one left,” Bryan said, pleading with you.
“So we’re just going to poke and prod him like he’s some guinea pig? Leon wouldn’t have wanted that! Are you sure there’s no way we can cure him?”
“If we attempt to remove the parasite now, it will kill him--”
“Then let’s put him out of his misery, this isn’t right!”
The silence between you was deafening. After a few minutes, Bryan finally spoke.
“Judging by this recording, the Plagas has one thing on its mind.”
“Which is…?”
Bryan looked up at you, letting out a heavy sigh, “reproduction.”
“All the more reason I shouldn’t be going back down there!”
“He’ll be restrained and you’ll have at least two operatives with you at all times, you’ll be safe,” Bryan leans forward on his desk, folding his hands together, “the data you collect from Agent Kennedy is invaluable in finding out how the parasite works, just… go down and talk to him. I know yesterday was unnerving but there is one thing he said that is true, he’s just Leon Kennedy. He’s in there somewhere, even if the Plagas is influencing him.”
You cross your arms, staring at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh before looking back up at Bryan, “fine. But I want hazard pay.”
“Consider it done, here’s your recorder back,” Bryan says, sliding the recorder across the desk towards you. 
You grab the recorder of the desk, turning on your heel to walk out of Bryan’s office.
“You are to report down there in an hour, you hear me?” Bryan calls after you just as you walk out the door.
You fight the urge to flip him off, thinking better of it. You walk down the hall into your office, getting your lab coat back on and sitting at your desk. You press play on the recorder, listening back on your interaction with Leon several times. There was one part where you repeated it several times, sending chills down your spine.
“That’s a shame, because I’d love to take you to bed and make you scream my name.”
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How long had Leon been locked down here, chained to this chair? How many men in lab coats came and tried to talk to him? He knew he was a lost cause, why were they keeping him alive? How many times did he wish death would come and take him in his sleep?
But then you came, awakening something in him.
Your natural scent filled the cell completely, so many hours had gone by and he could still smell you and you smelled absolutely divine. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, the way your voice was so sweet yet filled with drive and intelligence. The way you blushed when he flirted with you. The way your heartbeat began to race at just the mere mention of taking you.
God you were so cute when you ran off, all flustered, he couldn’t help but laugh; he hadn’t felt alive like that in so long. His reminiscing was interrupted suddenly when he could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Lifting his head, he practically began to salivate when he saw you had returned.
You came back to me, baby, where you belong…
“The subject appears to be conscious and alert, he watched us as soon as we were in his line of sight,” you say as he watches you speak into the voice recorder. 
With a hiss, the door opens and you step inside. Leon breathed in deep, taking in the smell of you, you smelled even better than you had yesterday. He feels his cock twitch in his pants in excitement. He watches as the door behind you closes and locks, just like it had yesterday, trapping you in here with him.
Curse these fucking chains…
“You’re more lively today, Leon, care to tell me why?” you ask, your voice flat and void of any emotion.
“How about you tell me why you smell so nice,” Leon replies, grinning at you, drool running from his mouth down his chin.
He watches you shift uncomfortably before you continue, “I’m not answering that.”
Leon scoffs, shaking his head, “then I’m not going to talk to you, sweetheart.”
You take a deep breath, “if I’m going to be honest, I don’t know why I smell so nice to you, Leon.”
His red eyes scan up and down your form, imagining it without all those needless clothes. Imagining himself pinning you to the floor and fucking you stupid. A strange, clicking sound came out of him from the back of his throat as he pulled aggressively on the chains holding him to the chair. He watches as the two men with guns outside become alert. Leon lets out a low growl as he glares at them.
You turn to face the men, signaling to them to stand down. He watches them both relax before you return your attention to him. 
“The transformation appears to be progressing faster than expected,” you say into the recorder, “are you in any pain, Leon?”
Leon slowly shakes his head, “no, just unbelievably horny, doll.”
“We have reason to believe the subject is displaying an increased libido due to the fact that the parasite inside him knows it’s the last of its kind.”
“Stop talking about me like I’m not here, that’s awfully rude.”
“Fine,” you say, lowering the recorder away from your mouth, “what do you want to talk about, Leon?”
“You should ask those nice boys out there to take these chains off me,” Leon purrs, staring at you longingly.
“Absolutely not, Leon,” you reply, crossing your arms, “those chains are there for my safety as well as your own, at least until we can get the Plagas out of your body.” “I think I’m too far gone for that, don’t you think, sweetheart?”
You take a deep breath and exhale loudly, the sorrow clear in your eyes, “I am so sorry that this is what you have become, Leon.”
“I’m not,” Leon says as that sinister grin overtakes him again; he starts to chuckle.
“Leon,” you begin, stepping closer and kneeling down to be eye level with Leon, “I know the real you is in there, somewhere, you have to fight it.”
Your scent was almost enough to drive him crazy, you were delectable. He licks his lips, that clicking sound coming out from this throat again. His eyes are locked on you and he sees you glance down briefly before looking back into his eyes. He knew what you were looking at, you were looking at the noticeable bulge in his cargo pants.
“You’re so pretty, you know that?” Leon says, his body visibly trembling.
You don’t respond, you simply stare at him with that same sad look in your eyes. How could you not want him as much as he wanted you. His lips curl into a snarl.
“Let me FUCK YOU!” he growls, lunging forward, the bolts in the chair letting out a loud screech as they’re bent slightly.
You stumble back, falling backwards onto the floor as Leon continues to struggle violently. The two men with guns come rushing in, one of them grabbing you off the floor while the other shoots a tranquilizer dart into Leon’s thigh. Leon feels the effects almost instantly, his body becomes limp as he becomes sluggish, his mouth hanging agape as he watches you get led out of the room by the two men, the door shutting and locking behind them as you’re led away.
“Mine,” he whispers in his last moments of consciousness, “all mine.”
Part 2
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lostdreamr-blog1 · 6 months
Text
Pinky Promise
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Pinky Promise 2
Part 3
Summary: Jake gets a call in the middle of the night asking for a ride home. But it’s who is asking that makes him worried.
Word count: 2k
A/N: Another request knocked out! Currently working on part 2 of Beautiful Stranger and might have plans for continuing this one depending on if you all like it. Thank you so much for reading! -C
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You were a little on the tipsy side as you squinted at your phone trying to make out the numbers on it. With them moving as much as they were, it was near impossible to type in a correct phone number. Instead, you opened your contacts and scrolled down to your brother’s name.
The smart thing to do would be to call him for a ride, but the more drunk side of you could only think about the nagging you would get on the way home and probably the month following. So, you scrolled up and down your contacts deciding on who would be the lucky winner to receive a call at 1 in the morning.
Jake groaned as he heard his phone going off. He blindly reached for it and squinted at the bright screen, trying to decipher who the hell would be calling at this hour. He had to be up in a few hours to get ready for another day of trying to get through the near impossible assignment, so unless it was an emergency, he was ignoring it.
The number that flashed on his screen wasn’t one he had seen before. He almost wrote it off as a wrong number or another spam call, but something told him to answer it. The area code was one he knew and a call this late on a Saturday might mean something is going on. So, instead of rolling over and enjoying the few hours of sleep he had left, he answered the mystery number.
“Seresin.”
“Oh shit! That’s the Jake that’s in this phone? Why would he put that number in here?” The voice was female and sounded somewhat familiar but was clearly drunk.
“Sorry to disappoint. Who is this?” Jake was kicking himself for answering it now, having the person insult him within two seconds of talking.
“Ah. Look, you have to promise not to tell my brother anything. Like pinkly swear and everything.” Jake was too tired to entertain childish requests, but the first part of the statement finally sunk in. The only one on the team who had a sister near base was Bradley. Fuck.
“Y/N? Is that you?” He needed the confirmation before freaking out. What did she do that warranted keeping her brother in the dark?
“I am not answering that question until you promise me.” He sat up in bed, turning on the lamp next to him. There was no way this wasn’t her.
“Alright. I promise I won’t tell him right now. Can you tell me what’s going on?” He was hoping she was too drunk to catch how he promised.
“Fine. I’m at this bar with my friend and I played wingman a little too well and she left with this guy. I mean good for her. She just got over this really bad breakup and needed to get laid.” Jake had gotten out of bed and put the phone on speaker as he got dressed. Something told him he was going to have to pick you up from somewhere. That’s if you managed to stop getting sidetracked.
“Anyway, I have this thing about not liking to get in Ubers by myself and it’s a long ass walk back to my apartment.” Jake had grabbed his keys at this point and was walking out the door.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.” He turned on his truck and waited for a response.
“Shoot. Well, we started at one place and now this is place three. No place four. You know what, let me ask because I have no idea.” Jake sighed and shook his head. He had heard stories from Bradley about his younger sister and how reckless you were. Or at least that’s the way he described you. He always kept you on a tight leash, trying his hardest to keep you out of trouble.
But Jake thought you just wanted to have some fun. One of his sisters went through a phase like this and it was best to keep a close eye on them but never push them. For reasons like this.
You told him the name of the bar and he was on his way. “I’ll be there in about 15 minutes. Are you okay to wait inside for me?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I need to finish this water anyway.” Jake told you to call if something came up but he shouldn’t be long.
It wasn’t but 5 minutes later his phone started ringing again. He saved your number as Baby Bradshaw, knowing that this probably wouldn’t be the last time you called him.
“Yes ma’am?”
“Are you close?” As casual as you tried to sound, Jake could hear a slight bit of urgency.
“Five minutes away. Everything alright?” The hesitation that followed his question told him everything he needed to know. But he waited for your response before he pushed the issue further.
“Umm, it’s probably nothing. Just this guy by the bar keeps giving me this look and it’s making me feel a bit uncomfortable. But I’m also drunk and a tiny bit paranoid.” Jake pushed the accelerator down a bit further, breaking a few laws in order to get to you faster. He wasn't going to be blamed for getting the youngest Bradshaw in trouble.
“I’ve always been told to listen to your gut.” He heard the hum on the other end of the line as he blew through a red light.
“My gut is telling me they want tacos.” Jake couldn’t stop the laugh that came out.
“We can get you tacos on the way home, sweetheart. Now do me a favor and stand where a lot of people can see you. People like security or a bouncer. Can you do that for me?” He heard you hum again.
“Slight problem. He is following me now.” Jake’s heart started to beat faster and knew he needed to get there now.
“Shit. What did Bradley say. Thumb out, use your knuckles.” He shook his head trying to figure out what the hell you were saying. But it clicked a second too late.
“No don’t-“ He heard commotion on the other line and parked his truck right outside the bar. Flying out the door, he nearly ran into you as you were standing by the entrance with a bouncer blocking a guy with blood running from his nose from getting close to you.
Jake grabbed you before you could get around the bouncer and pulled you outside. “I told you to stay the hell away from me, you creep!” You were yelling at the guy all the way outside, letting him know you weren’t to be messed with. He wanted to go back in there and show the guy what happens when you mess with innocent people, but he knew leaving your side wouldn’t be for the best.
When the two of you were next to his truck, Jake let go and looked you over. Your face had a red tint to it from what he assumed had just happened, but besides that you looked to be in one piece. That was until he saw your eyes start to water.
He put a hand under your chin and lifted your head up. “Hey, hey. What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
You sniffed a few times and wiped the tear that managed to escape. “Bradley didn’t say how much it hurts to hit someone.”
Jake bit back a smile and looked down at your hand. While it was a bit red and would surely bruise tomorrow, it didn’t look too bad.
“He probably didn’t think you would ever have to do that. Why don’t we get you back home and you can tell me what happened.” He watched you nod your head and opened his passenger door for you, closing it when you were in.
He waited a few minutes after you were on the road before asking questions. “Want to tell me why you called me instead of your brother?”
You shook your head at the question. “Have you met my brother? It would be nonstop nagging for God knows how long. Anyone else seemed like the better option.” You paused as you remembered exactly who you were with.
“I will say I didn’t expect him to put your name in my phone. He seems to have a strong dislike for you.” Jake smirked at what you had said and shrugged his shoulders.
“He probably knew I had sisters and would do anything to make sure they were alright. Regardless on who they were related to.” You thought this over and nodded your head. It wasn’t long until the next question came.
“What happened at the bar?” You felt his eyes on you and knew he was more concerned than curious.
“The guy I told you was giving me weird looks ended up following me to the door. He stopped me and tried to grab my hand and even though I pulled it away, he kept coming at me. I don’t know, I guess I just felt like I needed to do something to stop him.” You missed the way Jake’s hands tightened on the steering wheel or the clench in his jaw.
“He was lucky I was 30 seconds behind, or he would’ve gotten more than a broken nose.” You looked over and saw how serious he was. A look your brother wore all too often.
“How long until you tell bird boy what happened?” Jakes eyes caught yours and you saw the conflict in them.
“If I was him, I would want to know something happened to my sister. But I will at least drop you off before I call him. Keep your phone on silent and say you fell asleep. That way you can push it off until he gets off tomorrow.” He heard your sigh but that was the end of that.
It was silent in the car until he heard you say, “I’m not as stupid as my brother makes me out to be.” Stupid was never a word he would have used to describe you. A little carefree maybe, but you knew what you were doing.
“I see someone who wants to have a little fun in their life while they can. Nothing wrong with that.” He glanced over to you to see you playing with your injured hand.
“You’re not as bad as they make you out to be either. Besides my brother, not many people would come and get me when they have to be up soon.” Jake held back a wince when he saw the time. A coffee run in the morning would be needed. Maybe he could talk Natasha into picking him up some from that place she always went to.
He pulled into your apartment complex and parked as close to your building as he could.
“Hey, sweetheart. You can call me anytime you need help, okay? I know your brother and I are not on great terms, but I know he would help me out when family is involved.” You gave him a small smile and thanked him for the ride.
He waited until you closed the door before he backed out of the parking lot, trying to figure out what he was going to say to Bradley. It was nearing 2am and calling him was oit of the question. So, he sent a simple text.
Hey man. Your sister called a random number in her contacts tonight and didn’t realize it was me. She needed a safe ride home and that exactly what I did. We can talk about it more at base, but wanted to let you know she is safe. -Hangman
He went to put his phone down when a text popped up. He prayed Bradley wasn’t awake, wanting to push the rest of that conversation off. But instead, it was baby Bradshaw with the text You never got me tacos.
Jake laughed out loud replying that he owes you some in the near future. With a spitfire attitude that you had, Jake saw the two of you becoming good friends. That’s if Bradley didn’t lock you up after tonight’s events.
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A/N: Not too sure how I felt about this one but thinking about doing a Jake and Y/N friend series. Thoughts? Likes or dislikes? Thank you for reading!
Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy
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orikiys · 9 months
Text
✿ ✿ 〞 the aftermath
✰ pairings: ot8!skz x gn!reader
✰ genre: fluff, a bit of angst and romance
✰ warnings: cursing, tears, aftermaths
✰ word count: 2k+ words
part 1
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౨₊ৎ chan
it’s been a few days since the fight. and chan hated himself for saying those things which he shouldn’t have. regret was an understatement. even the members were aware of the fight since chan kept overworking and refused to go home out of shame. he promised himself that he would always protect you, and he felt himself collapse every time he remembered the fight.
truthfully, you weren’t much better as well. you missed him, you did. and you wished he would come back home sooner but you couldn’t muster the courage to say that to him. you knew he would be beating himself up for the fight, even though part of it was your fault as well. you agreed with it.
your heart leaped out of your throat when chan stood on the door, holding a bouquet of roses. and although he tried to do his best to smile, it immediately turned into a sob when he saw you.
“i’m so sorry baby. so so sorry,” he hiccuped, and rested his face on your shoulder and closed his eyes in relief, when he felt your familiar arms wrap around his torso and held him close.
“it’s not your fault entirely. it was mine as well,” you hushed out and pressed a kiss on his head, feeling him cry harder at this.
pulling away, he leaned his forehead to yours and let out a weak chuckle.
wiping away your tears he muttered, “god i love you so much.”
you giggle softly and press a kiss on his nose, “i love you more mr bang.”
౨₊ৎ minho
you laid face down on the bed, with hot tears spilling down. it had been two hours since the fight, but yet minho didn’t once dare to apologise. your eyes burned so much that it hurt.
a knock breaks you out of your session. with a hesitant step minho enters the room and feels his heart ache upon your state. gulping the lump forming in his throat he walks closer but gets shoved away when you stand up and push him out of the room out of anger. and he lets you. knowing he deserved it. his eyes show pain but he doesn’t stop you and finally looks down at you in the eye.
“minho you’ve said enough, please leave me alone for some time,” the moment the door slammed in his face, he dropped to his knees and let his tears flow.
“i’m s-sorry. i really am,” he whispered, leaning his head against the door and wiped away the tears but they kept flowing continuously.
“i didn’t mean to i swear,” his voice kept cracking but he tried to continue in hopes you could hear the despair and desperation in his tone.
“i feel horrible for hurting you kitten, i mean it. and even though i tend to appear closed off, i love you so much, i really do,” upon hearing his voice you had to bite your lips to muffle the sob threatening to escape.
sure you were angry at him. but you couldn’t just let him cry his eyes out on that cold floor. about 15 minutes later, with soft steps you opened the door and looked down at him. he was hugging his knees close to his chest, and looked so. . . lonely.
his eyes practically shone upon seeing you, but it disappeared when reality hit him that he was the one who caused this. he raised himself up, and slowly and very hesitantly wrapped his arms around you. he pulled you in his embrace and tucked your head in his chest, letting you cry. letting you release your anger at him.
he would do anything if it means he gets you back. if he can erase the mistake he made.
“i won’t ever let my anger control me. i promise,” he mumbled and you smiled softly. you believed him. his words held sincerity and so did his eyes.
you were just glad to know he would try his best to not let this occur again.
౨₊ৎ changbin
the next few days passed by a blur. you were doing your best at ignoring changbin and hoping he would realise his mistake. which he did all too soon.
“hey,” he greets you with a soft smile but receives silence which makes his smile falter but he tries to stay happy for you.
then he proceeds to tell you about his day but the moment you begin to get up, he can feel those silver tears dripping down.
he clutches the hem of your shirt in your hand, and backhugs you. leaning his forehead on your back he mutters, “don’t punish me like this anymore. i can’t t-take it. i’m very sorry baby. please. i promise to take you on dates weekly now, will that work?” his clutches your shirt tighter and forces you to turn around.
he lets out a soft scoff when he sees the tears on your face as well. cupping your face he mutters, “i’ll plan the dates from now on. you don’t need to. and i’ll reach an hour early if you want,” your chuckle makes him smile as well. with a soft sigh he presses his lips on your forehead making you breathe out in relief. war is over. finally. and you couldn’t be more thankful.
౨₊ৎ hyunjin
every day of his tour, hyunjin video called you for at least 2 hours. and you almost felt guilty for taking up that much time but then he reassured you that nothing’s wrong. wrong turned right. and his sincerity turned stronger if possible. he began showing you his love subtly and more often.
“i really am sorry,” he murmurs, twisting his head a bit to kiss the skin of your arm closest to him. “i hate fighting. didn’t mean to make you upset.”
he sat on the bed with you in his lap and hugged you tightly as if you would disappear if he let you go.
“hyunie, i’m not going anywhere you can let go of me now,” you laughed when you saw him whine and childishly shake his head in denial.
“no. never. do you not love me anymore?” his dramatic tone almost makes you laugh out loud but you decide to play along.
with a soft gasp you mutter, “that’s impossible! i love artist hyunjin so much.”
he blushes upon the nickname and looks at your hands intertwined with his.
raising it in the hair he smiles at the sight, “doesn’t this look like a perfect sight? which means we are perfect for each other.”
tackling you down to bed with hands poking your sides you giggled, and maybe it was just time he needed to take out for you.
౨₊ৎ han
“look what i got!” he yelled out loud, wiggling the plastic bag in his hands as he made his way over to you.
passing him a blank stare, you turn your head and continue watching the drama. you feel him sit beside you. you feel him stare at your face. you feel him shift closer to you till his knees are touching your. you also feel him grab your hand, delicately. you let your eyes wander over your hand and watch him touch your index finger, trace patterns which are out of nowhere and suddenly you’re snapped back by his soft sigh.
“i’m terribly sorry– i’m not asking you to forgive me, not that you would this sooner as i may or may not, no i may have committed the biggest mistake of my life by treating you that way. and i swear it may sound funny to you but i literally panicked when those words left my mouth. i felt like beating the shit out of myself because i still can’t believe that my own mouth could even utter words like that–” his words get cut off when you wrap your arms around his neck, practically choking him but he doesn’t care. a huge grin spreads across his face as he brings you closer to him.
he looks into your eyes as he says the next words, “i promise i’ll be a better version of myself. for you.”
౨₊ৎ felix
you drag yourself into felix and chan’s dorm building and sigh for upteempth time. it felt weird to come here with this unexpected reason. but you had to. you had to apologise to him and mend the things between the two of you before the matters took a toll for the worse. the door opens and there you see hyunjin, still rubbing his eyes. he must’ve probably woken up now, you let your gaze wander behind him, trying to find any hints of lee felix. but there’s none. though you do wonder what hyunjin is doing here. you bite your lip to stop yourself from asking that question and instead focus on felix.
“he’s in the kitchen,” hyunjin rasps out after having seemingly read your thoughts which makes you flush about how you were like an open book to him. walking into the kitchen you find felix whisking the eggs with all his strength and even managing to spill some out.
“lixie,” your voice comes off even weaker than you expected. but felix’s head snaps in your direction and only then do you notice his state. his dishevelled hair, flour stains on his cheeks and dried tears that break your heart. without letting him speak anything you crumble into his arms and hold him tightly.
“i’m sorry! i’m so sorry, my sunshine. i misunderstood you entirely. and i– god i just did the biggest mistake letting you walking like that,” and when you don’t feel his arms wrap around you, you pull back just to see him trying to control his tears. he doesn’t want to appear weak in front of you and that breaks your heart even more.
“it’s okay lixie,” was the last straw before he buried his head in the crook of your head and let himself go. lose all control of his emotions till he doesn’t have anything to hide. and at that moment, you swore you could feel at utter peace.
౨₊ৎ seungmin
you feel the bed dip beside you but you stay still, laying on your side with your eyes closed and pretending to be asleep. he lets out a soft sigh at something you can’t see and you resist the urge to turn around and observe him.
slowly, you feel arms pull you close to his chest and although you try to struggle, it’s of no use. he just hugs you tighter.
“i’m sorry. i really am,” his breath fans your neck as you speak and you try your very best to stay still and forgive him. but that wall cracks the moment you feel something damp against your shoulder.
you turn to look at him as he tries to hide himself but he’s too late. and now he’s afraid whether you’ll forgive him, judge him or throw him out. but he’s surprised when he feels you hug him and whisper it’s okay. his arms automatically wrap around you and he truly feels it. it’s okay.
౨₊ৎ jeongin
your phone keeps vibrating from jeongin’s texts and you try your best to ignore him until you see him walk on the road, looking like a lost kid searching for his mother. his eyes are red and puffy from crying and his throat probably aches too from asking random people about you.
you frown at the side and for some reason you can feel your heart ache. why? you’re not sure why. weren’t you supposed to stay angry at him until he begs for forgiveness? then why are your legs taking you to him? until you’re standing right in front of him and panting.
his eyes shine, but with sorrow and remorse. he tries to wipe his tears. tries to hide the fact as if he wasn’t just searching for you all around like a desperate person, but he fails. he looks down at his feet, unable to meet your eyes and feels the tears drip down his chin and on to the floor.
various words escape his mouth, some stuttered, some muffled while some he chose to say in his mind. but the only sentence you were able to understand was that he is sorry. and that he loves you and will wait until you forgive him.
he finally looks up, and he swore that he could’ve seen your lips lift and finally he could breathe normally again.
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pedrito-friskito · 11 months
Note
hello my dear!! 🫶🏼
🌸🌸🌸
eddie with smut prompts 10 & 1 pls 🥵
hello my love!!!!
I apologize in advance for this (well, kinda but not really…)
patience (or a lack thereof) - eddie munson x fem!reader
word count: 2k
warnings: the horny really jumped out on this one. drug use, cockwarming, unprotected p-in-v, fingering, dirty talk, soft dom!eddie vibes (I think)
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The problem here, is that weed makes you horny.
Like…really horny.
Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem. Friday nights at Eddie’s place have a pretty repetitive flavour, and it’s one you now crave. You’ve been seeing each other nearly six months now, and your friends have all given you shit for it, but you don’t care. Fridays are for Eddie.
More specifically, Fridays are for getting stoned in Eddie’s bedroom and cumming so many times you lose count. 
By now, you’d usually be between his sheets already, two or three rounds down, a quick breather in between. But tonight, something’s thrown a wrench in your usual plans. Really, it’s your own fault — you’d shown up unannounced at Eddie’s place Wednesday night, the night he usually reserved for D&D planning. Wayne had taken an extra overnight shift, leaving the place to the two of you, and well, you made the most of it.
But with Wednesday night planning out the window, Eddie has a Saturday session and nothing prepared, which you know is not a good thing.
But weed makes you horny.
You’re sprawled out on his bed, your pants long discarded, wearing only one of Eddie’s Hellfire shirts, flipping through one of his music magazines. You’ve tried reading the book you keep in your bag, tried distracting yourself by changing the records on the player, you even tried taking a quick cat nap. Nothing has worked. The ache between your legs is ridiculous.
He’s been at it a couple hours now, and you know he takes his time when it comes to D&D. He’s meticulous with his planning, thinking out every possible outcome and coming up with a contingency for each, even having a few throwaway plans just in case his players come up with something completely outrageous. You don’t mind it at all; it’s quite the opposite actually. His passion is…sexy, in a nerdy kind of way. It just adds to his charm.
And right now, it’s not helping matters. He’s perched in his desk chair, flipping through the Dungeon Master’s Guide, a pencil between his teeth. He’s wearing an old Hawkins High Phys Ed t-shirt, sweat shorts, and his hair's a mess. Unable to stop yourself, you roll off the mattress and onto your feet, crossing the room and standing behind his chair. He makes a little noise as you gather his hair in your hand, sweeping it over his shoulder so you can fit your face in the curve of his neck.
“Eds.”
“I know, baby,” he replies, the words muffled by the pencil between his teeth. “I’m almost done, I swear. Gimme like five minutes, and then I’m all yours, yeah?”
You whine, closing your lips around his pulse. You left a nice hickey there the other night, and your cloudy mind yells at you to make it bloom against his pale skin even brighter this time. Your arms hang over his shoulders, pressing your palms against his stomach, humming into his neck.
“Eddie, please?”
Your hands move lower, one glancing across the crotch of his shorts. The pencil falls out of his mouth. “Sweetheart,” he sing-songs, a halfhearted warning. But you do it again, fixated on the way his cock twitches to attention, even with just the lightest of touches. You let your teeth graze his throat, nipping at the same spot until the bruise starts to reform. Eddie tilts his head back, a low rumble moving through his chest, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When they open again, his pupils are blown, and he lifts his hand, burying his fingers in your hair. “Someone’s needy tonight.”
“You know that weed makes me ho—”
“Weed makes your horny, I know, baby,” he finishes, dragging his nail lightly against your scalp. “I’m almost finished, I promise. Come here.”
He turns in the chair, swinging around until you’re standing between his legs. Eddie drags his hands up your thighs, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver. He’s fully hard now, shorts tented, and he hooks one thumb in the waist of your underwear, pulling it down slightly. It makes you throb.
“You can sit on my lap till I’m finished,” he says, squeezing your hips. “That make you feel better?”
Your eyes widen slightly, feeling yourself melt into his touch. “You mean…?”
“Come here,” he says again, his tone more assertive this time. He pulls your underwear down further, lifting the hem of your shirt at the same time, and swoops in, pressing a sloppy kiss to your hip. Your underwear drops to the floor and you kick the fabric away. Everything in you goes tight as he hooks his fingers in the waist of his shorts, pulling them off and settling back in his chair. The sight of his cock curving towards his belly makes your mouth fill with saliva. “You need something else first?” he asks, his voice low and gravelly. “Need me to open you up a bit, pretty girl?”
He pulls you closer, one hand back on your hip, and the other slides between your knees, moving up to the inside of your thighs. He moans when he feels out wet you are, dragging his fingers through it, pushing them past his lips a second later as he pulls your body even closer. You move quickly, lifting your legs and planting your knees on the seat either side of his hips.
Eddie grins as you lower yourself slowly, reaching around to take himself in hand, guiding his cock into your nearly dripping pussy. The feeling is overwhelming, to say the least, and you bury your face in his neck again as you sink down, your breathing coming faster as he fills you up. 
Fully seated, your first instinct is to move, rolling your hips into his, but Eddie grips your waist tightly, clucks his tongue at you. “Ah, ah, ah, not yet, sweetheart. Let me finish first, and then I’ll take care of you, alright?”
When you don’t answer right away, he lifts his hips slightly, the tip of his cock nudging at that delicious nerve inside you. “Shit.”
“Gimme five minutes, baby,” he says again. He takes your hands, draping your arms around his neck. A soft kiss is pressed to your mouth, and you have to stop yourself from chasing it, taking what he gives. “Just five minutes.”
It’s fucking torture. Five minutes feels like five hours. Every tiny movement makes the pleasure spark, but it’s just shy of not enough, leaving you wanting more and more and more. If it’s driving Eddie just as crazy, he doesn’t let it show, giving you a broad grin when you settle deeper into his lap, resting your forehead against the dip of his shoulder. 
Finally — fucking finally — he flips his notebook closed, tosses his pen aside, and puts his hands on you. He grabs your hips again, guiding you along him, and the sudden movement sets your whole body alight. You toss your head back, your mouth dropping open as he lifts you up, pulls you back down. He fills you so perfectly, leaning in to suck a mark at your collar.
“There she is,” he murmurs, dragging the tip of his nose along the underside of your jaw. “C’mon, my needy girl, tell me how bad you want it.”
Eddie slides his hands under the hem of your shirt, fingers tapping along your rib cage. Your fingers chase his, reaching for the edge of the fabric, pulling it up and over your head. You toss it away, and Eddie groans, instantly lowering his head, scraping his teeth along your tits, your nipples pebbling at his attention. Your hips roll, dragging yourself along his cock, the pleasure making your eyes roll back.
“Look at you,” he moans, sucking a bruise beside your nipple, his other hand coming up to toy with the other. “You just need to be fucked so bad, don’t you?”
“Eds, please,” you manage to mumble out, a whine trapped high in your throat. You can feel how wet you are, the slick glide of your thighs against his. He grins, pulling his face from your chest, tilting his head back so his nose pokes yours.
“Almost there,” he says, his voice goading. “Use your words. Tell me.”
“Eddie—”
“Tell me specifically,” he mutters, pinching your chin in one hand, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip, “how bad you want it.”
You start babbling. His request opens the floodgates. Your words are in time to the movement of your hips, and Eddie is grinning like the devil he is. Please, Eddie, I want it so bad, I want you so bad, fuck me please, I want it hard, want it fast, wanna feel you tomorrow. Please, please, please, please, please.
He gives you what you want.
You squeal when he scoops his hands under your thighs, lifting you as he moves out of the chair, keeping himself buried inside you. He aims for the bed, you think, but gets thrown off course, and instead you end up sprawled on the floor of his room. He hikes your legs over his hips, grabs your waist and pulls you down onto him with every thrust.
Back arching against the floor, you’re climbing higher and higher, and the weed buzzing in your veins only makes it that much more thrilling. You’re probably going to have carpet burn on your ass, but you don’t fucking care.
“C’mon, sweetheart,” Eddie coos, and when your thigh starts to shake, he drops a hand between your legs, tracing his fingers over where he’s disappearing inside you before drawing a perfect circle around your clit. “Give it to me.”
You nearly shout his name as you cum, and Eddie rides you through it, his own orgasm not far behind. He pulls out at the last second, cums hot against your stomach, and flops down on the floor beside you. His hand lingers, tracing the curve of your tits, making them peak harder just for him. You curl your hand around the back of his neck, keeping him close while you catch your breath.
“You alright, baby?” he asks, dropping his jaw to kiss your shoulder, still petting his hand across your chest. “You want a pillow or something?”
You shake your head no. “Just…don’t move yet.”
Eddie chuckles, teeth nipping at your skin. “Okay, baby.”
Your body is caught between begging for more and tapping out for the night, but you think you know where the scales are about to tip. Especially if he keeps touching you like that. Your mind whirls, eyes fluttering open so you can look at him.
“Can I ask you something?” you murmur.
Eddie hums the affirmative, sitting up slightly to pull his shirt over his head. He uses it to clean his cum from your stomach and leans over you slightly, mouthing at your tits again. “Anything, baby.”
“Why didn’t you ever make a move on me before,” you ask, “when we were in high school?”
He tilts his head, lifting one brow with his lips still latched to your skin. “Why do you ask?”
“Just realizing how much mind-blowing sex I missed out on,” you reply.
Eddie chuckles. “I wanted to make a move. I really wanted to, trust me. But you had a thing for jocks back then, if I remember correctly.” He bites at you again, softly, dropping his chin to your chest. You can feel his hand roaming lower, glancing over your knees and thighs. Your legs part slightly, letting him in again, your blood spiking when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh. “It sucked, honestly. You have no idea how much I hated seeing someone else touch you, when I wanted it to be me.”
The tips of his fingers prod at you, curling just slightly. “But now you can,” you tell him, your voice turning breathy again, back arching as he pushes his fingers deeper, scrapes his teeth against your nipple.
“Now I can,” he agrees, “and I’m never gonna stop.”
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