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alotofpockets · 2 years

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Her smile | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: Before officially becoming an Avenger you have to shadow each member of the team. On your shadow mission with Natasha you give yourself an extra mission, to make her smile.

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As a new recruit to the Avengers, you had to shadow each of them on a mission before being cleared to for any official Avenger business. Today you were shadowing Natasha on an intel mission.

It seemed simple enough, get in, download the data onto a USB and get out. A mission you could definitely handle. So, you weren't really worried about that. You were however worried about going on the mission with Natasha. You've been staying at the Compound for about two months now and you have not once seen Natasha smile around you. That and her general coldness towards you makes you believe she doesn't like you all that much.

That's why you decided you'd give yourself a mission within the mission; to make Natasha smile.

Which proved to be even harder than you had originally imagined. She wouldn't budge, at all. As a response to most of your jokes, that you yourself found rather hilarious, she just rolled her eyes and moved with the conversation.

Natasha parked her car somewhere hidden behind the bushes, close to the building that was supposed to have the data you were looking for and told you to get behind her. You immediately complied and waited for her next instruction. Once Natasha gave the all clear the both of you started walking towards the building. You stayed at her hip with your weapon drawn. You move down the halls, trying to find the right room. You had the map and Natasha had told you to give the directions, making sure you knew how to read them properly.

You finally made your way to a room in the basement with an electronic lock. It definitely looked like they were hiding something in here. Natasha aims one of her widow bites at the system and it instantly fries. After a quiet click the lock is disarmed and you head in. Natasha in front with you right behind her.

Once you've cleared the room Natasha finds the port to download the needed intel. Now it was just a waiting game, until the data was fully downloaded onto the USB. Natasha had you stand guard at the door and told you to notify her if you saw anything suspicious.

You didn't and managed to download the data without any interruption. You head back out the way you came in, checking your surroundings for any sign of another person, but again no movements around you. Like you had thought, an easy mission.

You got back in the car and Natasha started driving away. Right as you passed the first corner you noticed a car starting and driving as well. You took a mental note of the license plate and kept your eye out for it. And sure, enough a couple blocks later it was still behind you. "Hey Nat, I think that grey BMW is following us. They have been taking the same turns as us since we first got on this road." Natasha looks in the mirror to find the car, when she sees it she nods, "Good find. We won't know for sure but let's take a detour just to be sure."

She looks around at the road signs, "There." She says shifting lanes to the right. "The mall?" You question. She nods her head again, "Yes we can go into the IT store and send the files, just to be sure. And we can change clothes if necessary."

"Oh, that's smart." You say as Natasha takes the turn into the gigantic mall parking garage. She speeds thought it making sure that if you're being followed you have a head start to get into the mall unnoticed. Meanwhile you're in awe of her driving skills.

You move out of the car quickly and head in. You pass a clothing store and Natasha pulls you in it by your arm. "People are going to recognize me, we can't bring any attention to us." She says as she grabs a grey striped hoodie and a grey leather jacket. She also grabs a blue sweater and a black hat for you and heads over to the cash register.

After she has paid for your disguises you move out of the store again and move to a corner to each put your disguise on. When you're ready you're on the move again quick, but as Natasha moves to go right, you grab her hand and pull her the other way. She looks at you confused. "Third store on the right second floor." She looks up to find the store you're talking about and sees laptops through the window.

"Nice work, you're very observant. That's very good. Let's go." You smile at the compliment and head to the store with her. If you could impress the one Avenger that was cold to you from the start, something must be going well, right?

When you enter the store you both look around, trying to act like normal shoppers while scanning the room for camera’s and employees. Natasha spots two camera’s aimed at the laptop area, but if she picked the right laptop she could block one by standing with her back to it and with the other she just had to be careful and pretend she was just trying out the laptop. You spotted only one employee at the laptop area and the next employees would be too far away to notice anything. “I’ll distract him, ready?” You ask Natasha.

Natasha nods and you take that as your que to walk over to the employee. “Hi sir, I was wondering if you could help me?” He turns towards you and says, “Of course, what can I help you with today?” You walk him over to a laptop all the way at the other side of the area and start asking him all kinds of questions about it. The way the laptop was facing made it that the employee was with his back turned to Nat. You keep asking him questions, that you definitely already had the answer too until you saw Natasha give the signal that she was ready. You turn to the employee again, “Thank you so much for clearing that up for me. I will make sure to relay the information you gave be back home and then I’ll be back if we decide on getting it.”

The guy is a bit disappointed that after spending quite some time with you he won’t be making a sale, but he tells you, “Of course, have a nice day. And if you have any further questions, please let me know.” After that he turns around and walks away again.

You walk out of the store and meet back up with Natasha. “Great job back there.” She says. Was she warming up to you? You smiled to yourself, she definitely was. Stone cold Natasha was getting less stone cold by the minute.

Making your way back to the parking garage Natasha noticed two men in suits who were clearly carrying weapons on their hips looking around. Searching for someone, searching for the two of you. She quickly pushed you to the side and placed her hands on your shoulder. You are taken back by the action, not knowing what just happened. Natasha notices the look on your face and says, “They’re here.”

“What does that have to do with pushing me up against a wall?” You say accompanied by a confused look on your face. “Kiss me.” She says. That does not clear your confusion. So, Natasha continues, “Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” You nod, finally understanding her idea. You lean forward and kiss her, you place both your hands on her cheeks. A way to block off her face to the men in suits but also because it just felt right. When Natasha pulls back from the kiss she smiles.

Your eyes widen in excitement, "That's the first time I've ever seen you smile!" Natasha takes a step back and playfully rolls her eyes, “That’s seriously going to be your first reaction after kissing me?” On instinct you lean in and kiss her again. You just really wanted to have her soft lips on yours again. She kisses you back instantly, her hands on your hips pushing you into the wall more. You really didn’t want to stop kissing her, but you knew it would be suspicious if you kept going for much longer. So, you pull away from her again slightly.

She looks into your eyes, trying to find why you kissed her again. “They were still there.” You lie. Natasha smiles again, “You know for a good liar, you can also be a really bad one.” She kisses your cheek, “Blushing cheeks are a dead giveaway.”

You start looking worried, you thought you could get away with it, but apparently not. She was never going to give you a positive review on your shadowing mission now. You curse yourself in your head, you really had to let your feeling get in the way.

“Don’t worry, y/n. I wanted to kiss you again too.” She says placing her hand on the small of your back, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” And so, you did. You went back to the car, which miraculously wasn’t being guarded and there was also no tracker to be found and drove the rest of the way back to the compound.

Back at the compound they decide to have your assessment right away. The other Avengers go into the meeting room and talk among themselves while you are nervously waiting in the hall outside of the room. Cap opens the door and asks you to come in. He keeps standing with you at the front of the room. “Alright, y/n, we have discussed all of your shadow missions together and have decided that you would be a great addition to the team.” You smile grows wide. You were going to be an Avenger!

“You showed excellent decision-making skills, survival instinct and you are a great observer. We’re all very happy to have you join us.” Cap finishes and everyone claps their hands. One by one they come over to congratulate you. Natasha gives you a hug to congratulate you. Wanda notices the interaction and smiles, she’s been hearing your and Natasha’s very loud thoughts about each other from day one and was happy that something must have happened on your mission together to got in out in the open.

You spend the rest of the day relaxing with Natasha in her room. It turned out that underneath that stone cold expression was just a girl trying not to get hurt again.

Main taglist: @yellowvxbes // @xxromanoffxx // @xxxtwilightaxelxxx // @wandanatvoid // @wandaswifeyforlifey // @marvelwomen-simp // @snooy245 // @peggycarter-steverogers // @wandas-slut-heart // @nats-dreamland // @annephobic // @laaurrel // @catasha // @t00manyfand0ms // @multifandomlesbianic // @bandit2029 // @avengerswriter4eva // @gigistylestomlinson // @snowdrop1026 // @sylvies4ever // @youreatotalposer // @mellowladyangel // @milfloverslut // @natasha-danvers // @lyak12 // @smalls-words // @when-wolves-howl // @svftpetker // @la-reine-des-enfers // @official-chaotic-wandamaximoff // @b0r3d-s1mp1ng-b1tch // @bubblensqueak002 // @imabee-oralizard // @rafecameronswhore // @be-missed // @romaaa28 // @youresuchamom // @youralphawolf72 // @maia-lightwoood // @rootbeerfaygo // @elliesayshello869 // @vllowe // @princessprudy // @nightingalexx // @hallecarey1 // @wandsmxmff

Natasha taglist: @strangegardentaco

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #marvel #marvel imagine #natasha x y/n #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanov x reader

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itosevenito · 2 months

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I Loved You Like The Sun

For @mapled-penitentiary

Summary:

Rooster always knew his dads had a love for planes, he just didn’t expect Maverick to own a goddamned warplane or a hangar for that matter

Rooster

Bradley had had his suspicious when Maverick gave him and the rest of the Dagger’s his house location– which turned out to be in the middle of a goddamn desert. He double checked google maps as he pulled up. He looked around at the almost completely baren landscape and the seemingly worn and unused hangar before feeling a rush of relief in his chest as he spotted Hangman’s ute and Phoenix’s jeep off to the side of the tarmac. He quickly exited his bronco, slung his trusty duffle over his shoulder before he made his way over to the crowd of confused aviators.

“Bradshaw!” Phoenix called, a touch of relief to her tone, “Do you know where the hell we’re meant to go?” Bradley strolled up to them, finding that more than half of them had their phones in their palms and were gawking intensely at google maps. “Why would I?” He questioned, his brows furrowed.

“Trusty Bradshaw, as usual.” Hangman snarked, leaning over Javy’s shoulder as the pilot scrolled. Bradley’s eyelid twitched. “God damn it, I think he gave us the wrong address.” Fanboy moped, slumping as Payback nodded solemnly. “That would explain how we’re all here,” Bob muttered, taking a look at their surroundings just as Rooster had.

Bradley narrowed his eyes, he knew Maverick had some brain damage problems– but to muck up his own address? That was a new skill. But they were all definitely in the right state– Maverick had been there with them as they purchased the tickets after all. He let his duffle slip off his shoulder slightly as he reached into his jeans to fish out his phone. Without a shred of hesitation, he clicked on the old man’s icon.

“Everyone shut up!” Phoenix shouted as the dial tone rung out. Everyone immediately shut up as Maverick answered.

/Hey kid, you get into the state alright?/ Maverick’s bubbly voice asked from the other side. Bradley didn’t miss the awwing noises the other aviators made.

“Yeah Mav, we all made it alright.”

/Oh that’s good! When will you be arriving?/

“Uh… Mav about that.”

/… are you alright now? No accidents?/

“No, no!” Bradley was quick to reassure, “No, no not at all, we’re all in perfect health. It’s just, we think you may have given us the wrong address.”

/Odd. You wanna run the address through me now?/ Maverick offered. Fanboy took that as a cue to rat out the address they all had present in their phones. An amused chuckle filtered through from the other side.

“Something amusing, Pops?” Hangman asked, looking sour.

/Kind of you to ask, Lieutenant. Yes, there is something I am finding incredibly amusing/

“I knew it,” Bob whined, throwing his head back, “We got the wrong address.” Bradley resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, already feeling the dread of another long, tiresome car drive coming up.

/Gimme a sec, aviators/ Maverick said, a huff accompanying his words. Bradley stared at the phone as did his fellow pilots. What on Earth was the Captain doing? Had he forgotten his address and had it written down somewhere else? What startled the living shit out of him was that the doors to the rusty, old hangar creaked open. Fanboy startled and the rest of them stared in blatant horror.

What was in there?

“Morning aviators!” A familiar voice chortled from inside the hangar. Bradley’s phone nearly clattered to the ground along with his jaw. Leaning on the now open door was Maverick, in a white tee and a pair of blue denim jeans, and he was slathered in grease. None of the Daggers standing abreast with him moved nor twitched– they were almost like statues, which Bradley imagined was extremely fitting.

Maverick’s beaming smile never faltered. “What, you not comin’ in? Well, I guess it’s hot today, young people still like to tan right?” He asked, mirth dripping from his tone. Phoenix – to no one surprise – was the first to recover. “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what uh, what exactly is this?” Maverick’s smile dipped a little as he leaned out and looked up at the hangar, “It’s an old United States Navy hangar. Can’t you read?”

Bradley didn’t know what to say (he was not gifted in having a speedy reaction time like Natasha), he didn’t even know what to do. How long exactly had Maverick had this place? And how long had he been alone for? In the middle of fucking nowhere, in an old decommissioned hangar? At least… he hoped it was decommissioned.

“With all due respect, Sir, this– wasn’t exactly what we had in mind.” Payback spoke up unsurely. “Oi, don’t judge just yet, aviators, you haven’t even seen inside.” Bradley stifled a groan at that– did he even want to see inside? The first to move was Bob and Fanboy, with the latter of the two looking far more intrigued than five minutes ago (had he even been here for five minutes…??)

Bradley met Phoenix’s exasperated look before following after the WSOs.

As the group of pilots moved out of the warm golden rays of the sun, they were blasted with a fresh, cold stream of air in an almost pitch black hangar. Bradley squinted his eyes, thinking he could make out a large black… shape looming over them. Or that was his eyes making up shit, they’d been doing that ever since the uranium mission, damned concussions.

“Sorry ‘bout this, didn’t realise you’d be two hours early.” Maverick’s voice was saying from… somewhere. Bradley clicked his phone on and realised they were in fact exactly two hours early. Huh. “Pops, does this place have lights, or do you just have night vision?” Jake asked from his place in the middle of the two rusted steel doors. “Oh, it’s easier to work in the dark,” the older pilot made a hissing sound and a clatter of objects followed in its wake.

Bradley edged forward slightly, careful to wave himself around the attached forms of Mickey and Reuben, and approached the large silhouette that looked over him ominously. He squinted further, attempting to outline the edge of the figure. As he moved ever closer, something caught on his boot. Looking down, he found an empty tin strewn between the dust particles illuminated by the sun.

“Aha!” Maverick’s triumphant voice called before there was a flicker of meek light and then the whole hangar was showered in a cold green light from the ceilings. Bradley went to look up at the lights, but his head stopped midway in the action, favouring to take in the sudden appearance of an enormous P-51. Bradley staggered back a step. His duffle slipped off his shoulder and stationed itself in his cubital fossa. He sucked in a breath; what– what was he looking at?

The P-51 was parked harmlessly in the centre of the hangar, its massive wing span taking up most of the room. Bradley gawked at it, not even processing that there was a steel ladder propped up on the other side of the plane. Maverick strode gleefully back over, beaming ear to ear, “You like ‘er?” He asked.

“Yo– tha– wh–” Coyote fumbled over his words, presumably staring at the same thing Rooster presently was. “That’s a fucking P-51.” Hangman’s voice said. “Yep,” Maverick grinned, popping the p. “In the hangar you apparently live in.” Phoenix added. “Yep.” Maverick answered again. “Is anyone else finding this day just a little difficult?” Fanboy whispered and Rooster could practically hear Payback nod. “Respectfully Sir, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Maverick said something else about refurbishing, but it was drowned out my the sound of Bradley’s heartbeat in his ears, beating shamelessly quickly. Maverick. His dad. Owned a war plane? A plane used for bombing in the second World War and the Cold War? A plane that was sitting in the hangar Maverick apparently owned as well? Bradley ran a hand over his left cheek, dragging some of the skin down with it. This– what was this?

Was this– some kind of joke? He knew Maverick. He knew he loved to fly and he loved planes – hell the guy had snuck him into the cock pit of an F-14 back in the day when Nick and his mum were on a date night – but… but this was different. Maverick, Pete, owned a P-51? When had this happened? When–

Bradley sucked down another breath, distrantly aware of Maverick moving over to the other side of the plane, gesturing to something to those that had trailed after him.

Had he really missed that much? Bradley never thought– he furrowed his brow, not once taking his eyes off the plane. Just because he’d stopped his life with Maverick and gone his own way, didn’t mean that Maverick had put his life on hold. This wasn’t the same Maverick he’d stormed out on. This wasn’t the same Maverick that he’d screamed at mercilessly. This wasn’t the Maverick had lived in the Bradshaw house with Ice. This… he didn’t know this man.

He didn’t know Maverick anymore.

He tore his gaze away, looking down at the concert floor. He swallowed down his heartbeat, narrowing his eyes to stave off the salty liquid. Had he taken it too far? Had he missed out on a whole life… because of a miscommunication? Had he wasted sixteen years without his dad? Over what?

His lips trembled. A drop of sweat dripped down his cheek. His heart fluttered. The ground before him hazed over. He staggered backwards. He–

“Bradshaw!”

He snapped his head up, finding Phoenix directly in front of him. “Whoa–” she jerked backwards as to avoid colliding with him. Bradley’s brow deepened and he peered around his best friend’s shoulder, finding the group of aviators had vanished. He looked back at Natasha, realising by the confusion and concern in her features that she’d been calling his name for some time. ‘Shit,’ he cursed mentally, squaring his shoulders and standing up straighter. “Yeah?” He croaked, and mentally cringed. Phoenix sucked at the corner of her lips, eyeing him with suspicion. “Mav said we better go get setup for the sleep over, since we’re early he’s making us help with the refurbishing.” She explained, nodding over her shoulder dismissively to where the gang were setting up a series of colourful sleeping bags while Maverick pushed a couch out of the way.

“Right.” Bradley nodded, moving the strap of his duffle back to his shoulder.

~xXx~

“What did you all want for dinner?” Maverick asked as they all came out of the wash room. Bradley raised an eyebrow at finding the older pilot still looked like he’d taken a shower in grease. He tossed his previously white towel to Hangman before making his way down the wooden steps towards their sleeping bag area.

“Spaghetti.” Mickey answered hurriedly, blushing a dark crimson at everyone’s buds of laughter. Bradley sat himself down on his navy blue sleeping bag and made himself comfortable as the rest of the Daggers followed his example, with Fanboy being lead over by Maverick who was smiling gleefully. “Yeah, maybe I can organise that for us.” He was saying.

“You’re telling me there’s a fast food place near here?” Hangman jumped in quickly, a cocky smirk on his face. Maverick shook his head fondly as he all but fell down into the couch he’d been moving earlier. Bradley watched his movements closely. “Of course not, I’m going to make it.” Maverick answered, rolling his eyes.

That shook a scoff out of Rooster, causing everyone – including his dad – to stare at him. Bradley squirmed under their eyes, “Quite frankly, Mav, I don’t wanna waddle over to the phone to call the fire brigade after you insisted you could ‘cook’ for us again.” The Daggers’ heads all swivelled over to look at Maverick who was gaping at Bradley’s accusation. “Well, Bradley, I don’t entirely believed that is what happened–”

“Nu uh,” the younger pilot interrupted. The Daggers’ heads swivelled back to him. “I strictly remember running up to the door to give Ice and Sli a hug after they’d returned from a deployment and you saying not to bother with take away because you would cook for everyone. And even though both of them told you not to, you did it anyway, and you wanna know what happened? You somehow managed to burn the frying pan and set Slider’s favourite dish towel on fire.” Bradley retold the events of years ago out loud. He never thought he’d ever do that. Least of all to the group that sat around him now.

The heads all swivelled back to Maverick, who was looking over at them with a jaw-slacked expression. “Yo– how the hell do you even remember that?! You were like– six!?” The Captain fumbled out. The heads swivelled back to stare at Bradley who smirked before tapping his forehead, “I’ve got all your major slip ups stored up here for safe keeping.”

Maverick sputtered hopelessly, sagging back into the couch.

“... we both can agree that was an ugly ass towel though.”

“Oh, for sure. No one ever said Slider’s taste was decent.”

“Wait…” Bob spoke up, eyebrows furrowed, “Do you mean… Admiral Kerner?” The Daggers looked back between Maverick and Rooster like they were at a tennis match. Both he and his dad shared an amused look. Bradley had been waiting to see how long it would take to bring this subject up. “Well, kids,” Maverick leaned forward on his knees and all the aviators basically crawled over to him, sitting at his feet.

Bradley chuckled and pulled out his phone.

~xXx~

“God, Sir!” Fanboy gushed, face akin to a child – the tomato paste smeared around his lips making the image even more amusing – as he held up his plate for more spaghetti. “This spaghetti is the best!” Bradley chuckled, twirling his fork around in his dinner. Maverick laughed whole-heartedly and scooped around round of spaghetti into Mickey’s plate.

“After that story Rooster told, I made you out to be a terrible cook.” Coyote admitted, blushing a tad. “I’ve had lessons from the very best.” The Captain shrugged, sitting down at the table to actually start eating his food. “Which is?” Natasha inquired, raising an eyebrow. Maverick’s gaze filtered over to Bradley before digging into his food. All the Daggers swivelled to look at him expectantly. “Dick,” he muttered bitterly, causing Bob to choke on his lemonade.

The older pilot shrugged in response but Rooster could see the smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “So who’s the very best? Some other famous navy name you’re pals with?” Hangman drawled, face turning sour. Bradley chuckled, “It does turn out in fact, that Sunny can make a good dish of spaghetti.” He informed and Maverick groaned in agreement, mouth full of food. “I’m sorry,” Payback leaned forward, “‘Sunny’?”

Bradley shrugged, “Sundown,”

The Daggers all gawked at him. “Okay, I need a list of every famous Navy name you are actually buds with.” Javy demanded, pulling out his phone to make a list. “Well,” Bradley put down his fork, leaned his elbows on the table and turned his head up to the ceiling thoughtfully, “There’s Captain Mitchel, Admiral Kazansky, Admiral Kerner, EX-Captain Williams, EX-Captain Piper, EX-Captain Wells, EX-Admiral Wolfe and… EX-Admiral Neven. Yep, I think that’s it?”

“Ah,” Maverick said, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “Bradley’s dear uncles.”

Rooster rolled his eyes, “I believe Ice was Pops.” He drew his eyebrows together in horror, faltering slightly at his own use of past tense. When had he come to think of their relationship as in the past..?

Maverick sniggered, having not noticed the flaw in his words. “Icepops.”

“... shut up, old man.”

“Icepops! Can we go to the beach pleeeeaase!?” Maverick gave a hideous interpretation of his kid voice that made him cringe. Javy barked out a laugh while everyone else chuckled lightheartedly. “I’m changing the subject now…” Bradley muttered darkly, narrowing his eyes while picking up his fork. “Of course, of course.” Maverick waved his hand as the conversation steadily drove into talk of Payback’s new Cessna.

~xXx~

A shadow stood with its arms crossed over its chest, standing out against the blue glow of the full moon. The shining light rained down over the hangar, bathing the old steel in a hue of diamonds. Bradley drew a soft breath in, his chest tightening as the icy air filtered through his lungs and through his body. He suppressed a chill, instead favouring to rub his bare palms over the exposed skin of his forearms.

He exhaled, eyes looking ahead but not seeing. He was in a different world, not just because he could not enter into the realm slumber, but because everyone else had. After their eventful dinner session, Bradley hadn’t met Maverick’s gaze nor gotten to talk to him as a private one on one. Natasha and Bob had been quick to drag him off to show him the photos of himself around the kitchen sink area. He’d blushed a deep crimson as everyone started to aw and Maverick had laughed. The group had begged for child-Bradley stories.

That was five hours ago.

The green LED lights had been shut off, the golden rays of the sun hidden and the warmth of the desert vanished. As a single man he stood, seemingly watching a pair of house fitches jump around, squawking softly at each other. A stroke of metal under man got his attention. Bradley twisted his upper body around and his eyes locked onto the beautiful P-51 mere feet away from him. By the right side of the plane stood Maverick, a grimace on his face.

Bradley uncrossed his arms, blinking slowly in confusion as the man did not make a move to approach him. Was this how they were going to be from now on? Putting on a friend– family façade in company but never with just each other? Were they to ignore their untalked about problems with others, but carry it ‘pon their shoulders together? Were they that miserable?

“I thought you were asleep?” Maverick spoke first, not making a move to step away from the metal wing. Bradley shrugged in response, adjusting his lower half to properly face his dad. “Couldn’t relax.” He offered after a beat of uncomfortable silence. A smile cracked Maverick’s lips, “You still like lullabies?”

A warm, fuzzy feeling burst through his chest and spread through his nervous system as he allowed himself to smile, recalling the fond memories of Iceman, Slider and Maverick taking turns to sing to him to sleep when his mum had gotten too weak. “Can you actually sing now?” He asked in return, earning a scoff in reply.

“I could always sing, Bradley.”

“My ears beg to differ.”

Maverick shook his head and chuckled, his crows feet crinkling. Bradley’s chest tightened at the jarring reminder of how old his dad had gotten. “Anything you need? Have you shared Ice’s love for horrid herbal tea?” The Captain asked. In actuality, he had, and he’d faced relentless teasing all throughout his days of friendship with Phoenix for it. “You’re telling me you have herbal tea?” He asked instead.

To his surprise Maverick nodded, “Yeah, it’s in the tea cup cupboard.” He explained. “Ha, are you telling me you actually know where something is? Colour me surprised.” Rooster smirked at his dad’s exasperated sputtering. “Har har. You’re quite the talk of the town aren’t you? C’mon, let’s go make some.” So that was how he’d ended up following his dad quietly into the kitchen to prepare a batch of teas for the both of them.

Maverick had boiled the water and Rooster had been tasked to get the mugs and the tea bags. The older pilot surprisingly had a decent array of teas. He rummaged through a few of them, finally settling on the ‘honey, caramel and vanilla’ flavour and tied the tails to the handles. After the teas were prepared, Maverick led him out to where he’d been standing alone before and had produced sun chairs from God-knows where.

Bradley relaxed against the soft material, tightening his grip on the warm mug as it steamed in his lap. The two of them sat abreast, watching as the pair of house finches flew around together in circles amidst the black night. He breathed in the steam from his mug, relishing in the warm soggy feel to his cheeks.

They sat together for a time, watching the two finches with great interest– or, at least Maverick was. Rooster wasn’t quite sure what he’d been thinking (or rather, not thinking) about until the old man decided to speak up. “I’m glad you and the guys came up here,” Bradley looked over at him, watching the small, sad smile tug at his lips. “It’s been a while since the hangar was so full of life and sound.”

Something in his chest tightened at the statement. How long had his dad been so alone for? “We’ll come anytime you want, Mav.” Bradley said. Maverick gave a small chuckled and waved his hand dismissively. “I mean it. Say the word and we’ll come running. They adore you.” His cheeks burned as his dad turned to look at him, surprised. “Finally, I get to be the cool uncle.” Maverick said.

“More like the inconvenient grandpa.” Scoffed Rooster.

“Oi!”

“What?” “Inconvenient grandpas are cool.”

“Never said they weren’t.” “You implied it.” “Did not.” “Did too.” “Did not.”

Maverick rolled his eyes and leant back in his chair, gently blowing at his tea.

Rooster took a sip of his scalding tea and tried his best not to spit it right back out. His eyes burned by the time he’d actually swallowed it. “Let it cool, Bradley.” Maverick said while taking a sip from his tea. Bradley raised an unamused eyebrow as his dad started fanning his tongue. “Let it cool, dad.”

Maverick halted his fanning.

Bradley furrowed his brow in confusion. What was wro–

Oh.

An uneasy swirl of green dread burst through out his stomach during the long silence. “Mav– Mav I’m sorry– I didn’t mean to–” he stumbled out, quickly placing his mug beside his chair and sat erect in his chair, unable to think of the words to express his fatal mistake. Maverick didn’t make a move to sit up, place his mug down or even look at Bradley.

Rooster cursed inwardly while staring with wide eyes at his dad, he could feel the tears brimming. He hadn’t meant to let it slip– he knew they weren’t ready yet… but his tongue had slipped along with whatever was left to salvage of their fractured relationship. He’d done it. He’d finally fucked everything up just like he knew he would.

He knew this idea was a bad idea. Just because Maverick had opened up about why he’d pulled Bradley’s papers and Bradley had unmuted the older pilot’s contact didn’t mean they could continue from where they’d left off– did either of them even really remember what it was like before… the fallout?

Was this their sign?

Were they not actually meant to be a family?

Were they destined to always be apart?

“Bradley.”

Rooster flinched and his eyes locked with Maverick’s, who had moved from his chair and was now kneeling in front of him, gripping his bare hands. “I’m–” the younger pilot croaked, but the words fell dry on his capped lips. “Shh, it’s alright.” Maverick ushered, his spare hand wrapping around Bradley’s nape and pulling him into an unbalanced embrace. Bradley clenched his dad’s hands tightly, melting against Maverick’s shoulder.

“It’s alright, kid. It’s alright.” Bradley did his best to shake his head but the Captain simply started threading his fingers through the younger pilot’s golden locks. “It’s alright.”

~xXx~

Phoenix -

Waking up to find the P-51 gone was alarming. What was more alarming was that both Rooster and Maverick were nowhere to be seen. “How the hell did we miss them and the massive war plane disappear!?” Payback all but screeched as half the Daggers busied themselves with either searching the hangar or ringing the missing pilot’s phones.

“Wait.” Bob spoke up, moving towards the door of the hangar with his hand over his eyes. “I think I see something…” Phoenix approached her WSO and peered out, attempting to locate the object that had snatched his attention. Once she saw it, she couldn’t help but smile. The P-51 was approaching the tarmac and once it landed the canopy slid off, relieving Maverick slapping Rooster’s shoulders from the backseat. Rooster beamed from the front. ‘Idiots.’

#top gun maverick #bradley “rooster” bradshaw #pete “maverick” mitchell #natasha “phoenix” trace #jake “hangman” seresin #robert “bob” floyd #tom “iceman” kazansky #top gun fanfiction #for my pal #this took too long to write #oml #but I love it so #it was worth it

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nhasablogg · 10 months

Text

Now gracefully strung by your hand

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Derek/Spencer

Anonymous said: Prompt (fits in your existing ‘verse if you want): Spencer Reid on a low-effort case getting distracted by the others' hands while they work bc he’s thinking lee thoughts. Mayhaps Morgan or one of the others notices and does something about it 🥰

A/N: References this fic!

Words: 1.2k

Derek noticed more now. It was thrilling, in a way, to look back on past interactions and pinpoint exactly when Spencer could think of nothing but tickling, even for just a fleeting moment. And Derek knew he probably wasn’t misreading the moments, especially now that he knew exactly how Spencer was like when the thought suddenly gripped him. The lee mood, as he’d learned it was called (and which his usage of always made Spencer embarrassed in the best way). He probably didn’t associate handcuffs with it, being in the FBI and all, but Derek could remember one particular instance where he’d been joking around with him, way back when, and had asked to cuff him to see how well Spencer would survive if the need ever arose.

“I’ll be gentle,” he’d told him, and Spencer had blushed in a way Derek hadn’t yet understood.

“You thought I was gonna tickle you, weren’t you?” he asked him one day, having remembered it.

“No.” Spencer was bright red then too, but he seemed honest as he met his gaze. “I thought of it, but it- it wasn’t just that.”

“Oh?” Derek grinned. “Was it me holding you down over the table that distracted you?”

Spencer shifted in his seat, eyes now on the wall behind him. “You’re terrible, Derek Morgan.”

“Mm, you love it.”

The most innocent and captivating display of Spencer being caught up in this type of mood Derek noticed accidentally. Spencer seemed to be zoning out, staring at something for so long that Derek was certain he wasn’t paying attention to what he was watching, until he realized it was hands. And then he kept noticing it. Spencer’s gaze innocently on Hotch’s flexing hand pointing to a map. Spencer’s gaze following Emily’s fingers leafing through a case file.

He found him in the conference room one day, where Garcia was showing him something on the computer. Clicking, pointing, tapping, all the while Spencer was watching the blur of her wiggling fingers. Derek could imagine what he was thinking, caught up in it without meaning to, all wide eyed, all innocence.

“Were you watching her hands?” he asked with a laugh and Spencer jumped, face pinkening so quickly in that delicious way Derek adored.

“She has nice nails,” he said, and maybe Derek would leave it at that had he not understood what exactly that meant.

“Mm, they’re long. I bet it would tickle like crazy if she ran them over your belly.”

“Derek, oh my god, not here.”

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

Derek let out a laugh. “I do know why. I just like seeing you get flustered.”

Spencer huffed, but there was no coming back from that blush.

“Do you ever watch my hands?”

Spencer didn’t have to ask to know what he meant. “Sometimes. A lot of times.” He flushed and averted his eyes. “Most times.”

“Oh?”

“I can’t help it.”

“Well, you do know exactly what these hands can do.”

“Derek.” He said it softly, more out of habit than a plea for him to stop. They were alone. Spencer could indulge.

Derek too.

“Do you picture them running up your spine?” Derek demonstrated by stroking the air, index finger slightly extended, moving slowly over something invisible. “Or maybe-” He flipped his hand over and wiggled his fingers. “-gently stroking your chin? Tell me.” Spencer was bright red now, but he wasn’t looking away. “Do you ever tickle yourself and pretend it’s me?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. It pleased him. “Even when you’re around.”

Derek faltered. “But you could just ask me.”

“I know, I just-” Spencer shrugged, pulling at his sleeves. “Sometimes I feel silly asking. And sometimes I don’t really want the entirety of it anyway. Sometimes just the idea is enough.”

“I see.” Derek had to admit the image of Spencer lying in bed with Derek watching tv and slowly tracing his fingers over his own sensitive skin was kind of hot, to put it boldly. “If you ever want me to be quick and gentle, I can. Or if you want me to air tickle you.”

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just-” Spencer let out a laugh, something soft and slightly panicked. “I’m still not used to talking about it so casually.”

“I can make an event out of it, don’t worry. July 16th. Caught Spencer looking at Garcia’s hands.”

“Shut up.”

“July 18th. Got him to admit he tickles himself.” Derek laughed as Spencer shoved him, fingers automatically going for his ribs. “Oops, sorry, didn’t mean to steal your job.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You love it when I’m annoying.”

Spencer huffed, but didn’t deny it. Derek reached out experimentally and stuck a finger into Spencer’s neck, earning a giggle, shoulder rising to stop him. “H-hey.”

“You really think I was gonna leave you alone? I’m in a ler mood.”

“Oh my god, please shut up-”

“Shh, let me tickle you. Please.”

Spencer was still giggling from the fingers on his neck. “F-fine.”

“Thank you so very kindly for your sacrifice.” He pulled his hand free, wiggling the fingers in front of Spencer’s face. “Watch them.”

“Derek.”

“Just for a moment, and imagine what they will do, okay? Because they love the attention.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. Derek knew he would probably kill him one day. He was fine with it.

Watching Spencer watch hands calmed Derek down, too. He noticed it on the jet one day, feeling anxious and exhausted after a draining case, and so he’d turned toward Spencer like he usually did and found that Spencer was already watching him. Or watching his hands, gaze flickering between them and Derek’s face and while he did a good job of not flushing Derek caught the telltale sign of him being embarrassed in the way his body shifted. He wondered if Spencer longed for him to wash the week’s hardships away with his fingertips on his ribs, or if he was simply so used to watching certain parts of people that it had become a habit.

Derek relaxed under the gaze either way, wiggling his fingers experimentally and being rewarded with a kick to his leg as Spencer looked away without a word. Hotch sent him a questioning look as Derek laughed, seemingly out of nowhere.

Most times he caught Spencer watching other hands, though. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to feel jealous about it, but he didn’t. He found it cute. And entertaining. Thanks to the case which had brought them together in the first place everyone knew that tickling was a topic for Spencer. A sensitive topic, maybe because he’d gotten captured by the tickle UnSub, or maybe because he’d known more about the topic than they’d expected him to. Derek hadn’t talked to anyone else about it, because frankly he respected Spencer too much, so he wasn’t sure if anyone had pieced it together. But no one really tickled him, other than Derek. Maybe they found they couldn’t after the case. Maybe they felt it was Derek’s job.

But Spencer kept watching, maybe not on purpose, maybe dreaming more than paying attention. But each time Derek caught him earned him a blush. And how could Derek not love that?

#tickling #ticklish!spencer reid #moreid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #n writes #now gracefully strung by your hand

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justpostsyeet · 2 months

Text

Mîr Vin Universe : Origin story

Chapter 5 : Maybe I've made a friend

A/n - Mîr just exploring her surroundings. Critical appreciation and questions are always welcomed 😊

~•~•~•~•~

Mîr was tired. They were acting strangely since she had pointed towards the map. She didn't even get the chance to see where she pointed. Not that she would have understood it anyway. They had been talking to each other completely ignoring her. "Yes, ignore me," she pouted to herself. "Well," she thought, "let me get this straight until they're talking to themselves. I was traveling from university to my home to meet my parents. I was in the train, then I'm here. Everything felt so hazy." She tried to summon the face of her parents, but it was too hazy. It felt like 2-3 different faces colliding into itself when she thought of her parents. It started giving her a headache when she thought of them too much."Maybe I just had a whiplash from this sudden travel, so my memory is hazy. I need more time." She tried to convince herself, but she knew something was wrong, so very, very wrong.

Was she being held hostage in a cult? But for some reason, it feels like she knows this place. Why does she know this place? It seemed familiar and not familiar at the same time. It had been happening with a lot of things she saw since she had woken up. She thought again, "Maybe I just need to rest my brain. Then I'll be fine."

They all had left her alone in the room. She kept sitting on the sofa, waiting for them. She was afraid that if she pointed at anything else, it would bring trouble to her, but slowly she got bored. It was almost evening as she could see from the window. She hadn't moved, nor had anyone come. She got up and began walking, exploring the room.

The room was finely made. She could see that. Even the ceiling had beautiful paintings on them. Mostly, they were geometric shapes and scenes of the sea, some symbols of the sea. It was beautiful, as if she had been transported to a palace. "No cult will have such a beautiful palace," she thought. "Not based on what I've heard about cults, but you never know; these people have a lot of money."

"Hey, Mîr, why don't you think anything positive?" she taunted herself. "You're always out thinking some serial killer or demon is out there to get you." She began looking around. Even the furniture was so well-made. These old furniture pieces reminded her of her grandparents' home. It was an old home where three generations of her family had lived; it had many old antiques. It also reminded her of Mandos Hall. Serene and beautiful.

As she was thinking, something clicked in her brain. She had a memory of two people in her brain. The thought made her shocked, but it was true; her memory was overlapping with someone else's memory. There were two distinct memories that came into her mind when she looked at the furniture, but which memory was her own, she didn't know. But it was still progress from her hazy memories. Maybe if she kept thinking without panicking, she would be able to figure it out.

After exploring the room, she just sat on the bed. She dared not to go outside. She didn't want to risk it. The less you know in this situation, the better. The less interested you are when no one is looking, even better. Who knows if she shows too much interest these people begin seeing her as a threat. By the look on their faces, it seemed like they were as shocked to see her as she was to see them. She might be a threat to them too, so she must act carefully. She needed their trust if she needed to know what is happening.

Mîr realized something else too. She was hungry. Her stomach was grumbling. She hadn't eaten since she had woken up, not even had water. She didn't even know how long she had been asleep. She had nothing of her own right now except her glasses. These people had taken away everything she had with her. She had no way of communication. "Well," she thought, "how will I tell them I need to go to the washroom? It'll be embarrassing." She began thinking about it when someone entered the room. She was hit by the smell of food. "Food first, shitting later," she said to herself aloud. The person, Fearon, looked at her and smiled. She kept the food on the table and gestured for her to come. She obediently came. She looked at the food. It looked like a mix of European and Eastern food. There was sliced bread-like thing, but there was also some spicy food that looked suspiciously like Korean stew. They had some freshly cut apples and something that looked like whipped cream. They also had a water jug and a glass, more like a goblet actually.

She drank water heartily. She whispered to the goblet, "You know how much I've missed you. Water is the best beverage."

"Fancy," Mîr thought and began eating. The food was food. The back of her brain was nagging at her for trusting the food so easily, but she was very hungry right now. She didn't even know she was this hungry until she began eating. Now, there was no going back for her, she'll finish her food like a good girl and think about the consequences later. She was a little embarrassed by how quickly she ate the food. "Well, hunger makes you a little pathetic," she thought. She looked up and could see Fearon smiling at her. He put the tray away and came back again to take her to an adjacent room. It was a bathroom. "Good, now I don't have to come up with an embarrassing way to tell them I need to pee. Good," she thought.

Fearon tried her best to explain everything and how it functioned in the room. It was not hard to remember how to use it, but it was hard to remember the names. Fearon was speaking too quickly. She realized it was a bathroom without indoor plumbing. It was very similar to a medieval bathroom, with very intricate design too. There were basins to wash, a huge tank to store water, and a bathtub. The saddest thing was that the toilet seat was just a fancy chair with a pot attached to the bottom. It made her realize that someone had to clean it every day. It made her a little sad to think about it. She had taken a lot of things for granted. Now she could see how hard it had been for people who didn't even have indoor plumbing, which she takes for granted.

Feanor painstakingly told her the names of the bottles near the bathtub. She was too much into her musings about the perils of not having indoor plumbing that she could barely remember the names. But she remembered how to use it and which order to use it. They basically had everything she used: shampoos, soap, even bath bombs, oils, and conditioners. "Something doesn't change at all, does it?" she thought, almost smiling. Seeing her smile, Fearon gave her a smile. Then she began taking water from a huge tank in the bath and started to fill the tub. Mîr couldn't let her do it alone. She grabbed the nearby small bucket, same as Fearon was using, and began helping er. Fearon looked at her as if she had two heads. Mîr just shrugged and smiled and continued helping him. It was a little hard for her. She had never carried buckets of water. She was spilling them a little, but she was trying. She was getting a little out of breath, but she decided to help anyway. By the time the tub was filled, Mîr was visibly panting. Fearon looked at her and gave her a strange smile and took her hand in her hand. Her hand had red marks from holding the handle of the bucket. Fearon patted Mîr's head, saying something Mîr couldn’t understand.

Then Fearon began motioning her to undress."Oh," Mîr thought, "this water must be for cleaning myself." She stripped off the two gown-like things she was wearing and plunged into the water. It felt strange being naked in front of someone. She hadn't been naked in front of anyone since she was a child. She dunked herself in quickly. Fearon was still there. She smiled and began putting oils and bath bombs in the tub. Then she repeated all the instructions to use the bottles' contents again and left. Mîr was left alone. She decided to enjoy her bath. She never knew preparing a bath would take so much time. While she was in the middle of cleaning her long hair, Fearon came again. She couldn't see, due to her lack of glasses, but she assumed she had brought her some clothes. She left again so, Mîr continued washing herself. The cool water on a hot and very confusing day was like a balm to her very tired soul.

She came out of the bath feeling extremely refreshed. Whatever was in those bottles was really good, she thought. She looked at the clothes. A long strip of cloth, maybe a towel. She patted herself dry. Then small clothes like a sports bra and boy shorts, but none had elastic. The bra thingies were a little small, and the shorts were a little loose, but it was still better as they were made of really soft cotton. Then she had similar two gowns, one was very similar, a shade lighter than the other gown that seemed to have intricate embroidery of sea waves on the bodice. She wore them; they were very long on her, but they were really pretty. She liked the green color with blue embroidery. She wrapped her hair with the towel thing and walked out. Fearon was waiting for her.

Fearon looked at her and rushed towards her, immediately bent down and started folding the hem of the gown. It was solid 5 inches longer than herself. Fearon seemed to be personally offended by the length. She looked at her, embarrassed, as if it was her fault that the gown was too long. Mîr immediately said in English, "It's okay, it's okay. I didn't think you would have gotten the right size just by looking at me." She knew Fearon might not understand her, but she still thought maybe the tone of her voice would help. Fearon said something, and she sounded very apologetic. Mîr wanted to tell her that there was no need for apologies. She flayed her hands and head in a no sign. Fearon, this time, got up, started walking, made herself look like she tripped on her dress, then put her palm on her nose. She pointed at her nose and then squeezed both her hands.

So Fearon was thinking she'd trip on her dress and her nose would be....mushed? Are these people's noses so soft? Suddenly, Mîr started laughing. She flayed her arms again to tell her she would be okay. Fearon, too, flayed her hands almost comically, saying something. She was so serious when she repeated the nose-mushing action again, this time pointing at Mîr's nose. Mîr couldn't help but laugh more. She moved at her, but she tripped,tried to hold Fearon making both her and Fearon fall. They both looked at each other and began giggling. Feanor kept giving her looks of "see, I told you," and giggling. Mîr giggled at the irony. It felt good laughing after a stressful day.

After the fit of laughter, Fearon took her to the sofa and began drying her hair with a towel. Mîr tried to stop her but Fearon looked at her like she had killed Fearon's puppy. "Okay, she really wants to dry her hair. I shouldn't make her sad," she thought. She stopped interfering. It felt uncomfortable having someone else touching her hair, but Feanor was gentle. Maybe she had made a friend. Just maybe. But at least it's the little steps that matter.

~•~•~•~☆•

Taglist @asianbutnotjapanese @bobitoo08 @crazed-flower

#mîr vin universe #Glorfindel x mîr x lindir #the lord of the rings #lotr #hobbit #the hobbit #silmarillion #the rings of power #Glorfindel x lindir #lindir x mîr #Glorfindel x mîr #Glorfindel #lindir #mîr

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finniestoncrane · 1 year

Text

Your One True Nemesis

Chapter 11: also on AO3 Masterlist Here Arkham!Riddler x Female!Reader, word count: 1.9k i am sorry, i knew this was coming and chose not to tell anyone request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: angst, but also some cutie things!

“I’m going out.”

You turned to Edward, attention pulled briefly and without much enthusiasm from the book you were reading.

“Oh… ok, see you later.”

Returning to the pages, you managed to read a half a sentence before your brain suddenly clicked on and forced you to turn to him again.

“Wait, what?”

Stopped in his tracks as he put on a scrappy looking hoodie, of course in a deep shade of green, he looked to you blankly.

“Out. I’m going out.”

“Why?”

“Does there need to be a reason?”

You could feel your eyes narrowing as you looked at him, but you tried to remain as neutral as possible.

“Not necessarily. But it would be good to know where you were going.”

He looked as though he were considering his options, like it was a significant decision to make to divulge the information to you. And the longer he took, the more suspicious you got.

“I have to make a delivery.”

“What of?”

Eddie tossed his head back and groaned, rifling around in the messenger bag he had on his shoulder and producing a small brown parcel.

“This. It’s a… device. A favour. Just a little thing that’ll aid it’s recipient in the acquisition of information. You see, it draws its influence from mid-fifteenth century torture devices and-”

“Who is it going to?”

Irritated that you had interrupted him, Eddie tried to remain calm. It wasn’t worth it. You were already upset with him and he couldn’t be bothered with the hassle of dealing with you in an even fouler mood than the one you were in.

“Crane. Or rather, one of his henchmen. It’s a trade. I need some materials, some chemicals. Where better to get them than the old crow.”

As he spoke, Eddie was turning, adjusting his hoodie and walking towards the door.

“I could go.”

He stopped again, focusing his face to hide the irritation at the delay in his activities before turning to you.

“You?”

“I’d like the opportunity to go outside. I need some… space. Some fresh air.”

Eddie knew you were still mad at him. You were awkward and stinted, not smiling as much as you did before. Perhaps it would do you some good to get some space. Or, he quickly reframed his thoughts, it would do him some good to be without your bothersome attitude for a while. Truthfully, under normal circumstances, he would have preferred to have sent you in the first place. But he was hesitant to ask anything of you at the moment. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn’t afraid of your reaction, or of pushing a further wedge between you both. It was just that he found it a waste of time to argue with you. That was all. Nothing else. He wasn’t worried in the slightest that you might leave. That making you do his bidding outside of the depths of his lair might be your final straw. Because he didn’t care you left. He could just train someone else. The thought made his heart sink though. And he reasoned it was likely because training someone would also be a waste of his precious time.

“Ok… either yes or no, Eddie.”

He was pulled from his thoughts by your voice, suddenly realising he was yet to say anything. And in silence, still, he removed the messenger bag and held it out in front of him. You stood up from the sofa, taking the bag from him. He took your phone and added the meet up location into the map.

“Now… the henchmen. I’m not sure which one it will be but they’re very… intense. As Jon is. Although I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

“Yeah… I know who Jon is. I’m pretty familiar with him.”

“Oh, I suppose you have a crush on him too?”

You shrugged, shifting your mouth as you tried to decide if you did or didn’t.

“Who don’t you have a crush on?”

Raising an eyebrow you looked Eddie deeply in the eyes, hurt by the spiteful remark but comforted by the fact that at this point, at least, you definitely didn’t have a crush on him. Turning quickly to avoid any further conflict, you made your way out of the sewers. And alone again, Eddie cursed himself for being unable to have a decent conversation with you.

Finally at the location, taking a longer route than you needed to in an effort to enjoy the freedom and the strangely fresh air, you took a seat on a nearby bench. After a few minutes, you lifted your arm to check your watch, suddenly bombarded by a figure who bounced up to you and dropped themselves down by your side.

“Ok, I’m not even late! And you’re checking your watch with that face on?”

You turned to who you assumed was the henchmen you were to meet. He was younger than you expected, around your age. And he didn’t look like one of Scarecrow’s men at all. You supposed it was an effort to conceal his identity as an affiliated goon, and it was actually refreshing to see a normal person when you had expected some unknown terror to arrive.

“How did you-”

“You’re in the right spot. Lucky guess. Also, you look particularly miserable which just screams ‘I work for Edward Nigma’.”

It was impossible not to giggle.

“Yeah, see… you know exactly what I mean. So, you got the… whatever it is?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Reaching into the bag you produced the brown parcel and handed it over to the stranger.

“God, you’re lucky I’m a nice guy, or nice-ish. You’re just gonna give me that without even checking I have what you came here for?”

Sweat began to form on your palms as you realised how much of a mess you were making of the exchange. In a fit of panic, you looked to his sides, trying to ascertain whether he even had with him the materials you were supposed to be collecting for Eddie.

“Relax, babe. Got it right here.”

From his pockets he produced six glass vials of a clear liquid and held them out to you. Once you had them in the messenger bag you offered him an unsure smile.

“See, told you I was a nice guy.”

Your smile warmed at his own. It was so strange and so pleasant to speak to someone who wasn’t condescending, or waiting for an opportunity to insult you. You’d almost forgotten what it was like, and you hated that it was over so soon. So you stood up hesitantly, slowly, your body unwilling to leave.

“Well, thanks. I should be going.”

“Really?”

“I don’t… I have to get back… don’t I?”

“Do you?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

He laughed, holding out his hand.

“Mark.”

You took it, shaking it as you introduced yourself.

“This stuff usually takes much longer, babe. It’s like a shitty version of the cowboys in a shoot off. No one has trust in the other side. So by my reasoning, you have plenty of time to hang out. You don’t have to though.”

Sitting back down beside him, he smiled with a sigh. Mark leaned back on the bench and put his arms outstretched along it behind him.

“You worried you’ll get into trouble or something?”

With an incredulous scoff you looked at him.

“Scared of the wrath of Nigma?”

Rolling your eyes you smiled again.

“Hardly.”

“Nah, wouldn’t have thought so, you look like you can handle yourself ok. And Nigma… he’s the kinda guy who would try and lecture himself out of a wedgie.”

To a point, you tried to stifle the laughter, but it was cathartic to get it out. And it was only more difficult to contain the cruel joy when Mark did his impression of Eddie.

“Stop that this instant. I will extend to you an offer. Rather than carry on towards your own humiliation and death, I will simply let you walk away in return for a signed statement, testifying towards my superior intelligence and conceding that I have utterly checkmated you. Now let go of my underpants. You’ll rue the day!”

“Wow, you really have him nailed down. You familiar with him?”

“I know of him. Everyone does. I don’t know how you can tolerate working for him.”

Sighing, you tried not to think of the answer to that question. You couldn’t face it at the best of times, and the last thing you wanted to do was ruin this nice moment. One of the only ones you’d had recently.

“I could ask you the same about Jonathan.”

“Fair.”

“Look, Eddie’s… ok. He’s funny, in his own way. And he can be surprisingly… normal. I admire him. I went out looking for him, to work for him.”

“Ah, so you’re kinda stupid?”

With a playful smack to his arm, you got up from the bench.

“Oh, sorry, babe. I didn’t mean-”

“No, it’s ok. I really should be going now though.”

Mark was quick to stand up, staring at you as he shifted awkwardly.

“Look… you could… give me your number… if you want? It would probably be easer for us to communicate directly rather than bother the bosses… I think they’d appreciate the initiative there.”

With a smile, you agreed, taking his phone and adding your name and number into his contacts. And with a small wave, you left him, heading back to the sewers feeling renewed and happy.

The feeling didn’t last long though, because the minute you were back underground, Eddie was there to interrogate you.

“Who did they send? Did you get the goods? What took you so long? Actually, you weren’t gone long at all. Did something happen? Did you mess this up? I knew I should have gone myself.”

You interrupted his relentless questioning as you produced the vials and held them out to him.

“There.”

“Ah… I see. So you are capable of following instructions.”

Brushing past him, you made your way to the sofa and slumped down on it, arms folded over your face as Edward continued lecturing you, asking you question after question about your encounter without ever pausing to let you answer. Amidst the rambling, which your brain had managed to reduce to an irritating low hum, you heard your phone ping. You looked at the screen to see a message from an unknown number.

“Hey, it’s Mark! You can save my number now if you want. Hopefully things were all good when you got back to Nigma’s hovel. I bet he’s lecturing you right now as we speak. Good luck!”

The way Mark seemed to know Eddie better than you even did, had you giggling as you stared at the screen.

“Something funny?”

Edward had stopped lecturing and had moved closer to you, standing at the end of the couch and looking down at you.

“Just a message from someone.”

“A new friend?”

“Something like that. I’m going to make a start on dinner.”

You walked away from Eddie, clutching your phone and putting it back into your pocket as you made your way to the fridge. You could feel Eddie’s eyes boring into your back, no doubt pissed off at the way you were fraternising with the enemy. You couldn’t have imagined that he was jealous though, and even he was having a hard time admitting it.

#finnie writes #arkham riddler #arkham edward nigma #riddler x reader #arkhamverse riddler #the riddler #arkhamverse #riddler #the riddler imagine #riddler smut #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x you #edward nigma x reader #edward nigma #arkham!riddler #the riddler fanfiction #arkham!verse #finnie yotn

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thatsneakymedic · 8 months

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October Writing Challenge Day 3 Jester

It was always easy for Kabuto to infiltrate groups and teams of all sorts. Since the one thing that they all have in common and it's the surest way for him to lower their guard.

All he had to do is smile cutely, crack a few very clever jokes, and then act only a slightly bit clumsy and forgetful and in a click. He would win them over. Even if they had no respect for him in the end.

"Hey guys! Wait for me!" He yelled out as he lagged behind the group that he infiltrated as he carried their heavy bags and luggage for them. Of course, he had rummaged through it without them knowing anything about it. It was

But it wasn't what they had in their bags is what he was after. Nor their bodies either.

"Ha! Look at this loser! What kind of a shinobi are you if you're this slow? Get a move on, we're almost there!" The "leader" of the group named Osamu mocked and laughed at him along with the other two idiots who were merely following his example and they snickered and snorted along with him.

Yes, unfortunately. Kabuto's disguise is that of a too generous and gullible rookie who's too eager to get the attention of his "senpais" and he has been doing whatever orders they demanded of him. While his eager and bright eyes are seen from the outside, on the inside. His teeth clenched, his eyes felt like they could "turn red" at any moment, and his fingers and palms are itchy and ready to hurt his acquaintances. He knew that all he needed to do was to hold on a little longer till they make it to the rendezvous location and he'll signal his fellow spies to attack should the situation demands it.

His chest hurt, his arms hurt, his shoes have been torn from the weight, his face flushed and covered in sweat, and his clothes were dirty as well. Thankfully he had eaten a food pill before all of this since the trio refused to give him food or water till they made it to the area. Apparently as some sort of "training" when Kabuto knew full well that they were merely bullying and being cruel for no reason. Even though such practices weren't uncommon in the Oto village, in this case. Kabuto intends to not allow such personal injustices go unpunished, especially by these low ranked losers.

As if the Gods have granted his wish, he was finally granted mercy as the men finally shouted. "We're here! This is the site where the rumored ancient medicinal plants that can be found nowhere else in the world! I knew that my grandparent's treasure map was right all along!"

"We're going to be so rich if we pulled all of these herbs and sold them in the market!" Kishi, one of the men cheered as he hugged his other companion Kosho in sheer joy.

"Since we're the only ones who know about the location, we should keep this place secret and only harvest what is ready to be used. While also letting more of them grow so that we can never run out." Osamu chuckled, feeling rather proud of his idea.

"Osamu-san. What about our lackey? He also knows about this place and he's not in our friend circle..." The two men stop hugging each other and they glare suspiciously at Kabuto's direction who has also overheard their conversation.

"We made it? Oh thank god I can put these down and rest. Am I now part of your group? I did everything you asked." Kabuto sighed as he gently puts the bags down and he wipes some sweat off of his forehead.

Osamu thinks as he eyes Kabuto for a moment. He turns to his lackeys and he whispered to them, "I got this."

"Not quite. There IS at least three more things that you have to do for us rookie. It's then and only then can you become one of us." Osamu said casually as he sits on the nearest boulder with an arrogant flair about him.

Kabuto already knew that they have arrived, so before he could sic his allies on them, he decides to amuse himself by going along with his disguise. He scratches the back of his head with a tired laugh, "O-okay. Three labors left to go... I can do that. What else do you want me to do?"

Osamu despite that he appreciated the kid's enthusiasm, even he knew better than to trust him, and he also had no intentions to share his newfound wealth with his "friends" either. As soon as the favor has been made, he will kill all of them in their sleep and then pretend that they were attacked and he was the only survivor. Yes... a perfect plan and he'll quit being a shinobi since he won't ever need to work hard ever again.

"I'd like for you... to make me laugh. Tell me a joke. Or better yet, try to juggle some kunai and shurikens without cutting yourself. In other words, amuse me. If you can make me laugh as hard as I can till I feel like shitting myself, you won't have to do the other two tasks. Pinky promise." Osamu then reaches into his bag to pull out the bottle of water as he waits.

Kabuto raises his eyebrow as he crosses his arms, "Is that all I have to do? Make you laugh?"

Osamu's eyebrow twitched in annoyance since this "rookie" is already questioning his order, "Of course, but you're already off on a bad start rookie, now hurry up with the jokes or else I'll add another task for you to do! As the "King" of this group, you are still a jester and in order for you to get "promoted", I suggest you do as we say without asking questions. Now that I told you this, the next words that come out of your mouth had better be something funny. This is your last chance!"

Kabuto tilts his head as he thinks of a joke, but he sends a signal with his hidden fingers for his allies to attack the other two who suddenly disappeared out of the blue, without Osamu knowing.

"Let's see... you keep calling yourself a king, and it's even in your name. But I don't see anything remotely "royal" about you. But you do seem to fit the criteria on how obese and spoiled they can get. Let me guess... your parents named you that because they actually "believed" that you were going to become one? Jokes on your poor parents that their son is a pathetic loser relying on his ancestor's wealth than his own hard work!" Kabuto then snorts, "How pitiful. You're like that of a rooster who's only boasting how great he is as if he were a hawk."

"You want a joke? Go take a look in the mirror, you ARE the joke!" Kabuto sneered with his own laugh.

The man then attempts to throw his bottle at Kabuto but in a quick flash, he was pounced upon by two Oto nins who pierce his back with their blades and they pin him to the ground.

"Heh, I know I called you a rooster, but I can also compare your current situation of that of a bleeding... "stuck pig."

Taking another step forward, he kneels down to their level as he tilts his head, "How's that for a joke, "your highness." Kabuto smirked as he is dragged away into the brush and then immediately killed and his body tossed aside like the trash that it is.

He stretches his tired and sweaty limbs as he kicks aside the water bottle into the brush, "Well that was a pain in the ass, listen up everyone. Let's hurry up and pick what we can find and secure the area. Lord Orochimaru would be pleased to have this place all to himself. After all, he IS the true ruler who deserves this place."

notes: Osamu means "King, Monarch, Ruler in japanese Kishi means "Knight" Kosho means "Squire or an attendant of a samurai"

@lunyraartistry

#october writing challenge #this was a hard one #but I am happy to say that kabs really does tend to smile and laugh a lot #and laughter is the surest way to lighten the mood

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ethereousdelirious · 8 months

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Sicktember 2023 Day 13

Prompt: Anxious Stomach

Fandom: B.ungou S.tray D.ogs

Characters: Si.gma, Fy.odor

Wordcount: 1,347

Notes: Logically I'm sure [Kamui] would have been here for this moment, but I didn't feel writing him and that's on self care

CW for emeto as you may have guessed

A home.

A domain, a keep, a… a home.

Everything Sigma had ever wanted lay open and waiting before him, resplendent, beckoning.

And he turned from it.

A sudden wash of nausea made him swallow hard, his breaths coming in a shallow cascade from his mouth.

Fyodor turned to him, clever mouth turned upward at the corners. No sympathy in his eyes. "What's the matter, Sigma? Isn't it to your liking?"

Another wash of nausea. Sigma swallowed again, teeth clicking together. "Of course it is. It's— It's perfect."

Fyodor had brought him in on one of the top floors so he could look over the balcony and see the whole gambling floor. He clutched the railing with sweating palms and forced himself to look, really look, at his new home. Everything sparkled, chandeliers and banisters gilded and gleaming. Dark wood shone under elegant crystal chandeliers and the pristine card tables so far below him only wanted for players.

And players meant dealers. Waiters. Chefs. Cleaning staff.

Sigma's stomach clenched and he buckled a little, pressing his lips together. His eyes slipped shut and he couldn't repress a shudder. That was not how he would christen his new home, not by being sick off the balcony. He didn't even have any staff yet to clean it up.

Fyodor's gentle voice pulled him back to reality. "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You're looking very pale."

"Y-yes!" Sigma took in a long breath through his nose, held it, and released it slowly. "It's just… a lot to think about."

"Yes," Fyodor said, and shot him a sly look under his dark lashes. "I hope you're up for it."

The poison in Fyodor's words found its mark, slithering from ears to spine to stomach in ice-cold rivulets. Sigma shivered, drawing his elbows in close.

It was hard to resent Fyodor for the way he acted in the same way it was hard to resent a snake for bearing venom. It was just the way they were. Still, it didn't feel good to fall prey to that sickly poison.

"Can I see the rest of it?" Sigma asked, staring down at the center of a roulette wheel.

"Here." Fyodor pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and passed it to Sigma with an enigmatic smile. "Kamui was kind enough to make a map."

The paper trembled in Sigma's hands, a leaf on the wind. He unfolded it slowly so as not to tear it at the corners, and beheld the inky lines with a sinking feeling of dread. His domain. His domain. A place to call home. Just for him. It was all for him.

Why, then, did he feel so terrible?

"Can I…" His eyes darted from room to room and he couldn't orient himself and he felt like he'd just jumped off the balcony, freefalling with no end in sight. The weight of the whole casino sat square in his stomach.

"Why don't we take a look at your bedroom?" Fyodor's gaze tingled on his skin. "You look like you need to lie down."

Sigma could not refute this. He didn't really want to. There would be no great satisfaction in proving Fyodor wrong, if he managed to get through a proper tour without having a heart attack. There was no particular shame in proving him right, either.

Fyodor was often right. It was simply in his nature. And when he was wrong, he bore it with grace, and sometimes a little crease between those delicate brows.

Dignity was not something either man clung to, not with the sick desperation of so many others.

Still, Sigma knew better than to bare his belly to a predator. So he kept hold of the map and forced himself to scan it methodically, eyes darting from room to room. He couldn't help the blush that flooded his face when he found what he was looking for.

Master's chambers.

Thankfully, it was nearby. Sigma took a shaky step forward, half-turning to ensure that Fyodor would follow.

"If, ah. If it's all the same to Kamui, I'd rather not be the 'master,'" he said said in a voice that shook despite his best efforts.

"Hm?" Fyodor looked up as though he hadn't been listening. "But you are the casino's master."

Sheer force of will kept Sigma from slapping a hand to his mouth in a panic as his stomach wrenched again, dangerously so. Moving slowly, he crossed his arms over his miserable stomach, and the slight pressure abated the nausea, if only a little. "I think I'd prefer 'manager' or something."

"Sigma the manager," Fyodor said thoughtfully. "If that's what you want to be called, then that's what we should call you. It's your casino, after all."

If he was doing that on purpose, he surely didn't know where Sigma's nerves were headed. Perhaps he thought the idea of making Sigma faint somewhat amusing or he found some twisted joy in watching Sigma grow paler and shaking with nerves. But surely Fyodor didn't actually want him to get sick. Surely he didn't know how close Sigma was to the precipice.

Another shudder ran down Sigma's spine and rather than repress it, he let his lips part slightly. "Ohhh."

"Sigma…?" The little crease appeared between Fyodor's brow, like he was hurriedly recalculating something in the face of an unexpected variable. Yes, he had absolutely no idea.

"I, uh…" Sigma's heart beat much too fast, the futile fluttering of a caged bird. He didn't— Didn't want this. The map crinkled in his grip and he pressed his arms tighter against his belly.

At the end of the hall, vast white French doors loomed. Sigma lurched for them. His vision narrowed and narrowed and he barely registered the plush carpeting beneath his feet, except that it knocked him off balance and he nearly tripped. That only earned him a dangerous rush of nausea and another dry gag that forced a burst of hot air through his nose.

"Sigma." And of course, Fyodor was still there. His presence seemed a mockery now when all Sigma wanted was a warm hand on his back and all he would receive would be cool remarks. "Sit down. You're having a panic attack."

Surely that snake's smile still stretched his bloodless lips, that silent mockery lighting up his eyes. Sigma waved a hand to dismiss him and staggered to the bathroom.

The weight in his stomach grew and pushed and he folded in half at the toilet to wait for the inevitable explosion.

His frantic breaths disturbed the water and made ripples upon it and the sickly, chemical smell of toilet cleaner filled his head.

It was that more than anything that finally dragged him over the edge, that cloying artificial scent clinging to the back of his throat.

A scalding rush of vomit wiped it out and he couldn't close his eyes no matter how hard he tried not to look. They stayed wide open even as his vision blurred with hot tears. All the muscles in his core rolled, forcing up another wave of bile.

Sigma took his breath in great, frantic gasps and flexed his hands on the tiles, having dismissed the idea of holding his hair out of his face. If Fyodor was there, he hadn't made his presence known, which meant that Sigma had to handle this by himself.

When the pressure in his stomach eased up, he sat back and flushed the toilet, shoulders heaving. The bathroom swam in front of his eyes and he looked blearily from fixture to fixture. White toilet, white tiles, white towels, white light. All of it pristine and ready to be ruined.

Braving his sweaty palm on the wall to stand felt like a transgression, wiping his mouth on one of the perfect towels even more so. But he did both and stumbled back into the bedroom.

"Lie down," Fyodor said, frowning. He looked a little pale himself now, leaned against the wall like he needed the support.

Sigma didn't even bother to nod before flopping into bed.

#ethereous writes #sicktember #emeto

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stillhavetodothat · 2 years

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Replaying Nancy Drew without cheating - Part 1: Stay Tuned for Danger

Well, I did it. I played through my first Nancy Drew game in about 15 years without walkthroughs, hints, or pointers. I knew it’d be hard, but I did not know it would be this hard. I barely made it through in one piece, and this is a game I’ve played at least 10 times already.

Here are some of my very meandering thoughts at the conclusion of this very, very ancient and very, very classic game:

1. This game is great. I always see it towards the bottom of people’s ranking lists, but PORQUE? Even all these years later, I still enjoy the ghastly mystery, the preposterous characters, and the ample opportunities for sleuthing. It holds up.

2. Going slowly through this game really allowed me to understand the logic behind some of these puzzles, when before I would just click randomly in hopes of getting the desired result. Setting the clock? There’s a clue for that. The wire cutting? There’s a clue for that too, and you can FIND IT WITHIN THE GAME. No more getting blown up 15 times as I try out all the different combinations (although I did get to experience one gory explosion, as I somehow didn’t yet have the wire cutters the first time I went in to Rick’s dressing room, but more on that later).

3. Rick Arlen needs the CLANK. The number of times I felt harassed by this man! No I will not stay beautiful. No you do not drive me wild. Yes I am sassy, but please never say that to me again. Every time I heard these comments I questioned my judgement in diffusing that goddamn bomb before it exploded Rick himself.

4. Speaking of Rick, I do not remember how unhealthy Mattie’s obsession with him was. They are no longer dating, but most of the framed photos she has strewn around Aunt Eloise’s apartment are of him, or, even more sad, the two of them together. She has one of his headshots in her drawer in her dressing room. She has a Post-It with his phone number in a little box on her dresser. GIRL, GET A GRIP PLS. This man will bone anything that moves, please have some self-respect. (And I could say the same to you, Lillian. I also do not remember this weird love square thing going on. Lillian loves Rick. Mattie loves Rick. Dwayne loves Mattie. Rick loves himself. It’s like a soap opera in and of itself!!)

5. The acting between Mattie and Rick had me cracking up. There could not be a more monotone delivery of any of those lines. I have to agree with Dwayne re: Rick when he says “the man has NO talent!”

5. Loved hearing Lani Minella vaguely mutter “I need something to make this work” for almost everything she came across. Classic HerInteractive. I missed this. There was something so disconcerting yet charming about the repetitive voice acting and the convulsive animation. My boyfriend saw me playing and said “LMAOOOO HOW OLD IS THIS??” but idc!!! (see #1)

Here are all the times I wanted to cheat so fucking bad but I didn’t because I made a promise to myself and to my boyfriend (who is very confused as to why I am even doing this) and, of course, to Tumblr:

1. Literally my first time in the studio, when I still had a visitor’s pass, and could not get onto the set. You have to click extremely specifically on the card swipe, and Nancy just kept saying “I need something to make this work.” I was enraged. I went to Lillian to see if I needed to get a different pass from her, knocked around on some doors, made it nighttime and then daytime again. Then I realized I am an idiot and just wasn’t clicking correctly.

2. When I knew it was time for some bomb diffusion yet had no idea where the wire cutters were. I checked on set where the screwdrivers were, I scoured the prop room, I tried to break into Lillian’s office (she just yelled at me and I scurried meekly away). They were UNDER THAT DAMN MAP that I had picked up about FIVE TIMES already. Sigh.

3. This one was the most frustrating, and provided the greatest temptation to cheat. I knew that I needed to come back to the studio at night to break into Lillian’s office (that place is RIFE with excellent information), but could not get her to leave. Nor was I finding the letter with the code to get into the studio’s side entrance. I was stuck! I was trapped! I wandered around aimlessly for several in-game days, pressing every single button at Dwayne’s apartment complex (for some reason?). Anyways, ONCE AGAIN, I didn’t check under the last page of Millie’s binder in the prop room to get her log-in information, which then triggered the rest of the game. Very important things that are hiding under stuff in the prop room: 2. Me: 0.

This game was actually pretty easy, as the puzzles were straightforward, I somehow stored the answers to all of Millie’s riddles in my brain for two decades, and everything is pretty linear. My takeaways from this game are:

1. HerInteractive was really a product of its time, because Rick’s behavior is TERRIBLE. Nancy, badass feminist that she is, would have put him in his place in 2022, I am certain.

2. Stay Tuned for Danger is always going to hold a special place in my heart, even if playing it nearly breaks my modern computer.

3. All my cheating in this game would have been because I was rushing and not paying attention. DETAILS! Also, I have already put myself at a disadvantage because I know the sequence of events, and it has made me try to jump ahead when I haven’t done everything I’ve needed to do. So basically, I need to slow my roll next time.

Next up, of course, is Message in a Haunted Mansion. Can’t wait for seances, ghostly sobbing, and to crush some dickheads with some chandeliers.

#playing nancy drew without cheating #nancy drew #nancy drew games #nancy drew pc games #stay tuned for danger #stfd #herinteractive

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polarisgreenley · 5 months

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A Bouquet of New Beginnings Ch. 9: "Blue Gum"

Herb meaning: "Quiet" or "I watch over you"

[AO3]

Summary: We do so love restricted areas, don't we? (Tl;dr - Restricted Section).

A little excerpt from the chapter below the cut, but the full chapter can be read at the link above!

Happy New Year and hope 2024 is fantastic!

“Why do you have the key to Fig’s classroom?” Sebastian asked as Artemis beckoned him in. It’d have been simple enough to, perhaps, speak in the Common Room, but there were too many people clambering. No, better to go where she knew nobody would be listening in.

“He gave it to me before he was conscripted to Headmaster Black’s whims.”

“Poor Fig. Anyways, this is great timing, really.”

“How so?” Artemis asked as the door clicked shut behind her.

“Garreth and Natty may be curious about Rookwood and the troll, but neither of them heard what we did,” said Sebastian as all hints of jovialness dissipated. “Why are Ranrok and Rookwood after you?”

Artemis rubbed her thumb against her hidden scar; the tingle tremored through her forearm. Frankly, she was surprised it’d taken Sebastian this long to ask, though she supposed she'd hardly been alone outside of being in her room.

I trust you.

Professor Fig’s words came back to her as she made her decision.

“We’re not entirely certain,” started Artemis slowly.

“We?”

“Professor Fig and I. There was… before I go on further, you mustn’t tell anyone what I am about to tell you. Not even Ominis,” insisted Artemis. Her mouth tasted bitter at leaving Ominis out, but she agreed in Professor Fig's judgment; the less people that knew right now, the better.

“I won’t, you have my word,” declared Sebastian with a confident smile. “Not Natty or Garreth?”

“I’ll only tell them if they ask. Like you said, they didn’t hear Ranrok and Rookwood talking. Frankly, I’m not sure if knowing or not knowing is safer. Either way, I’ll… let you know, if I do.”

“Fine,” said Sebastian as he flopped into the nearest seat. “Either way, I’m asking. Why are they after you? It isn’t everyday where the leader of the goblin rebellion and the top criminal in the region are both after the same person. Let alone a new student.”

She noted that Sebastian had emphasized with a fair degree of malice the word ‘goblin’.

“We suspect that they’re after something that we retrieved at Gringotts.”

“- Wait. Gringotts? The bank? When were you at Gringotts?”

“After the whole, dragon situation. Professor Fig managed to grab the portkey – ”

“– Wait, a portkey? To Gringotts?” Sebastian repeated back. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Artemis chuckled as she took a seat across from Sebastian. His freckles looked like the amanogawa against the afternoon sun through the window panes.

“Long story short, we picked up something at Gringotts that Ranrok wants. It’s a map of Hogwarts, and it leads into the library. The Restricted Section, to be precise.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Artemis looked at him pointedly; Sebastian gave a long, slow nod.

“Okay, you are serious. So, did you end up going?”

“Not yet. We were going to during independent study, but…”

“Black conscripted Fig for his toils,” finished Sebastian.

Artemis nodded as she let out a small sigh.

“Exactly. Headmaster Black, in some mental gymnastics I fail to understand, concluded that being nearly eaten by a dragon was Professor Fig’s fault, and he’s now en route to London.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes with a shrug.

“That’s Black for you. But I see where this is going – you want to be proactive.”

“Yes, exactly.”

“So, you came to me. I’m honoured.”

“Well, you did say you were clever enough to get into the Restricted Section,” offered Artemis. “I thought perhaps I could ask you for advice on how to get in unseen. Without needing to use excessive invisibility potions.”

She saw Sebastian’s back straighten as his chest puffed ever slightly.

“I am. Though, with your soft treads, you might even do better than me without magic.”

“I doubt that.”

“You’ve nearly given me seven heart attacks the past five days, Artie. Seven. Almost flung that book into the fireplace earlier…” muttered Sebastian as Artemis gave an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, truly.”

Sebastian batted the air nonchalantly with an easy smile.

“Whatever. Anyways, if you’re going into the Restricted Section, I’m coming with you. I’ll teach you the trick tonight.”

“Wait but –”

“– Uh-uh, like I’m ever going to pass up an opportunity to go. I do so love getting into places I shouldn’t be,” teased Sebastian. He leaned his cheek into his propped-up palm. “Besides, two heads are better than one.”

Artemis hummed in thought as she met Sebastian’s gaze. The warm chocolate eyes conveyed a clear intent that he would not budge on his decision. It did seem he wanted to go in for his own things, and she needed the assistance.

Artemis nodded in agreement. Sebastian laughed bright; his smile devious as dimpled formed on his freckled cheeks.

“Meet me in Central Hall at eleven, and don’t tell anyone.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #a bouquet of new beginnings #sebastian sallow #artemis loreley

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revolttoevolve · 2 years

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Thall shall not eat that snickers

Did you know that Snickers is named Snickers after the Mars family horse? No idea why they decided to market it as a Marathon bar for the first 60 years. Kind of weird really.

I looked this fact up on the Eve of Day 1, when I was supposed to be compiling my divine list of foodie commandments. It was when I started wondering how many hands Snickers the horse had been that I realised I needed a break, and some food. So, I typed in ‘sugar detox list’ and five popped up, I clicked on the middle one. Saw that carrots, leeks and butternut squash was on the green (yes) list, and promptly left the house and shuffled to the shops.

It wasn’t until I had left the shop and was shuffling home, that I realised I hadn’t once thought about wine. Prior to my sugar evolution 90% of all my trips to the shops was anchored around wine. I’d pick other stuff up, but I was there for wine. The other 10% of the time, I would still pick up wine it just wasn't the main reason for the shopping trip. So the fact that I had only thought about wine and in the context of realising that I hadn't thought about it in the shop, was amazing to me and I floated the rest of the way home on the high of my small victory.

I started making soup, and then returned to my search, clicked on a different list and butternut squash was not on the Yes list, but on the limit list. And I thought bugger. Well I thought of the word rhyming with duck, but this is a civilised post so bugger it is.

The five published lists were not the same. They don’t agree with each other. This was going to be more complicated than I thought.

I have a small, very large obsession with stationery, any excuse for me to whip out my pencil case and note pad and I’m all over it and list making is my second go to. If in doubt stare at my books and then write a list. I’d already created two to-do lists to prep myself for the imminent detox, not to mention the list of symptoms and of long-term effects for both the white stuff and the bottle and the more colourful the better. Basically, I’m not satisfied until my list looks like a unicorn has puked on it. So, to say that I was disappointed that I would have to create a pre-list to the actual list would be a giant fib.

First, I created a column for no and for limited – since this seemed to be where the bone of contention was and off, I went. It seemed that the five lists agreed that all refined sugar and all refined carbohydrates we’re a no go, other than that none of them could agree. So, I decided that the best way to deal with this was go with the majority.

Of course, it would have been easier to just pick one of the existing lists and follow that, but I didn’t agree with everything on any of the specific lists. Especially not the one that had alcohol on the limit list. I mean not only would that completely defeat the object of my exercise, but booze is literally empty sugar calories. I knew myself well enough to know that if I wasn’t completely on-board with everything on the list, sticking to it would be impossible.

Figure out what makes you tick.

For those of you that are thinking of going ahead and starting a sugar detox, one thing I strongly suggest you do before you start is take the time to explore your motivation. If you don’t have this locked in, you will struggle to anchor yourself during moments of weakness or when the withdrawal symptoms start getting really tricky that voice in your head might say ‘why am I doing this?’ and the second voice might reply ‘dunno’ you will be screwed, because there will be nothing stopping you from stuffing a muffin in your gob. If you have the goals glowing like fireflies inside your mind, they will be your beacon. Without it, you’re in darkness.

I of course made a list, well a mind map. Three key factors seemed to jump out. 1) Booze – back then it was about reducing my intake and developing a healthier relationship with alcohol in general, 2) become healthier mentally, 3) Become healthier physically. Most of the things I listed fell into one of these categories. I liked having multiple goals -in the world of health and safety, 3 points of contact is the law. The more goals you have the stronger your grounding and therefore the stronger your foundation is and you are less likely to topple over or sink. That was my reckoning anyway.

Be prepared to be prepared.

If you’re a ping chef at home, the first challenge is working out what to do to replace all your microwave dinners, but even if you’re not and you opt for a jar of sauce, that is off limits as well .....sugar sugar sugar. Grabbing a quick sarnie at lunch is also out the window and of course takeaways is a definite no go, because you have no idea what it is in most of it and could easily be consuming loads of stuff

What you can eat is lots and lots of fresh vegetables, and dependent on which list you follow you can have legumes, lentils and chickpeas too.

To be clear the sugar detox is NOT like the keto or the Atkins. Excluding an important element like Carbohydrate’s completely is bonkers and dangerous. On the sugar detox you do have a daily dose of the naturally occurring carbohydrate’s in your vegetables and fruit, it’s just you can’t have the refined ones from things like pasta or bread. So, your diet remains balanced between fats, proteins, carbs and fibre. In this way it's more sustainable because you’re not cutting down how much you eat, just what you eat. Plus, sweet potatoes and brown rice can often replace the heavy carb elements of a lot of your favourite dishes. There are also quite a few alternatives to flour like lentil and chickpea flour, and that goes for pasta too. So, if you do a little research into it, you can pretty much source an alternative for most things.

The word Diet, it has such negative connotations these days. It only seems to mean restricting what you eat to the point of being both irritable and miserable. Many people forget that the word diet also means habitual nourishment/food and drink we regularly consumed. The sugar detox is like hitting system reset. Clears away all the bad habits to replace them with better ones.

And finally, before you start, it’s a good idea to have a visual of your goals, maybe keep them all in a journal or on a pin board wherever suits. If your goal is better looking skin, then take a selfie on day 1, then again on day 7 and so on. If it’s weight loss, take a belly selfie on day 1. If your goal is to improve your general well-being, keep a diary/journal. I draw up a chart on my fridge door, with a whiteboard marker to tally up each day on the detox, I wrote the CBT triangle; Thoughts - Behaviour - Feelings on my kitchen cupboard. I took a belly selfie and I re-purposed and old journal to keep a log of my thoughts. I knew I would need to plan a schedule for my training, but I decided that this could wait for another day as I had done enough.

Keeping a record of any kind is helpful because seeing how far you have come, is also a good motivator to keep on going, if on day 24 your feeling a bit pants, looking back on your day one stuff can help loads, it can also help you manage your symptoms.

https://www.mysugarevolution.com

#sugar detox #detox #sober #soberliving #soberlife #sobriety #nocarbs #nosugar

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jumblejen · 2 years

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On the Lake (In the Lake)

New little fic up on AO3. Created for @winchester-reload's 'hot girl summer' patreon challenge. 2,659 words. Rated teen and up audiences. Click the link or read below.

It had been a gorgeous day. The sun was bright and warm, but not too strong, with enough clouds that it didn’t feel like roasting sitting out in the rowboat with Cas. Dean had rowed them out far enough that Sam and Eileen and Jack could only be made out as shapes near the shore. Sam was the tallest blob there besides the trees.

Dean’s shoulders ached from rowing out that far realizing after they had stopped that Cas could have used his angel strength with much less effort. But still, Dean liked being strong and doing this for his husband, even if he didn’t want to think too hard about just how much stronger Cas was.

Cas had sat in the bow watching Dean intently as always, a small smile on his lips. Once Dean stopped rowing Cas leaned forward. “Do you think I can?”

Dean looked around, scanning the horizon and the shore carefully. He didn’t see anything moving out there expect the five of them, and he knew from his previous map search that there weren’t roads or houses or really much of anything at all for at least 20 miles. “Go for it Cas.”

Without seeming to need to balance himself, Cas stood and stretched his arms, boat wobbling in the water. His wings appeared after a minute, thankfully without the lightning effects he used to use. Slowly Cas lowered himself back down to the bottom of the boat, scooting more towards the middle in between the seats. Wings still stretched wide Cas rested his head in Dean’s lap and allowed his wings to hang over the edges of the boat, just above the water.

Dean had thought about bringing a rod out and seeing if he could catch dinner, but this wasn’t the first time Cas had wanted a chance to sunbathe his wings. He described it like an itch but also nothing like that at all. Letting the sun and light breeze flutter through his feathers satisfied some deep need and Dean was completely onboard (pun intended) with anything that made Cas happy. Especially since he got his arms full of angel for some serious cuddle time under the sun.

“Did you put on enough sunscreen?”

“Yes, Cas. Should be okay for a couple hours out here.”

“Just don’t want you to burn.”

“Nah, should be fine. Might get more freckles.”

“New constellations to discover tonight,” mumbled Cas in satisfaction.

Dean laughed softly. His heart swelled with happiness of the simple joy of spending a day at the lake with his family, and especially with his husband sun-drunk and content in his lap. “Do you want me to read to you?”

“Yes please.”

“I brought The Hobbit.”

“We read that one before.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Can we read the other one?”

“Sure, sunshine.” Dean rolled his eyes even though Cas couldn’t see him and he didn’t really mean it. Dean didn’t know why he continued with the farce that was his often stated dislike of romance novels, but he was just as happy reading the book Cas had tucked into their belongings as he would have been rereading The Hobbit. “Chapter 1. 1816. Miss Priscilla Carmichael made a lovely bride. Her dress of champagne satin caught all the light and haloed her, making her blond curls gleam and her eyes look as blue as a summer sky…”

Cas settled deeper into his relaxed pose on Dean’s lap as Dean kept reading. They spent a lot of time like this, enjoying a good (or bad) book together. Dean loved getting into the book and reading in different voices for each of the characters (though Sam complained that they didn’t sound different enough, which is why he was no longer invited to Winchester reading hour). Cas commented from time to time, almost indistinct rumbling. It took longer this way, but Dean figured all they had was time to spend together, so what difference would it make if this was the slowest way to read a book.

At least this one was published after Metatron had uploaded all pop culture into Cas’ brain. They had to be pickier about what they read from that era because Cas had a lot more commentary to interject and if it wasn’t something Dean had already read he got a little lost trying to keep up.

Time passed, Dean reading and sipping his water to keep his voice from giving out. Cas basked, wings shining and beautiful in the sun black and shimmering rainbows. Every now and again, Dean would become mesmerized watching the colors and forget to keep reading. Cas would look up from where his head was resting on his crossed arms and stare at Dean, eyes narrowed. Dean would lean down and kiss the top of his head and then pick back up.

After an hour and a bit, Dean’s water bottle was empty and he was starting to feel fidgety in his skin. “Time to head back, sweetheart.”

Grumbling, Cas sat up and stretched his back. “Want me to row?”

“Sure, Cas.” Carefully Dean switched to the other seat and Cas took up the oars. He tucked his wings in along his back, even though this meant that the end feathers were resting against the bottom of the boat. Dean knew how reluctant Cas was to put them away after they got all toasty and sunned, so why not wait awhile longer?

With Cas rowing, they approached the shore quickly. Jack swam out to meet them, his head bobbing as he treaded water.

“Heya kid. Having fun?”

“I built a castle with a moat and Eileen helped! And then I got hot, so now I’m in the water.”

“Great kid. Cas is gonna row a little closer and then you can help walk the boat in.”

“Okay!”

Dean smiled at Jack’s enthusiasm. “Hey, where’s Sa….”

Dean’s question turned into a shout as the boat rocked violently, tossing Dean into the water. Sputtering he kicked to the surface, shaking water out of his face while he tried to make sense of what happened.

What happened, was his little brother laughing his head off, one hand on the now-empty boat.

Dean whirled in the water as he realized if the boat was empty, Cas was in the water.

With his wings out.

Oh Sammy was going to get it. Which he seemed to realize as he gazed wide-eyed just behind Dean.

Cas was wet, his wings a sopping mass of feathers laying down his back. Dean dog-paddled the few feet over to him, relieved that Cas was treading water himself just fine. Dean had made sure that Cas had a better grasp on how to swim in his human form. He was sure Jack wouldn’t let either of them actually drown, Dean could never forget the sight of Cas’ head disappearing below the water all those years ago. So he made sure. And Cas let him, so it wasn’t paranoid. It was instructive.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was a deep angry growl.

“Cas, you can’t smite him.”

“Dean. My WINGS. Are. WET.”

Yeah, Dean knew this is where this was going to go real fast. At least Sam was smart enough to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t like wet wings,” added Jack, less than helpfully.

“Sweetheart, I know,” started Dean gently. “We’ll get them all dried out, you’ll see.”

“No.”

“Cas, we will.”

“Dean they are very wet.”

“You still can’t smite him.”

“HE TOSSED ME IN THE LAKE.”

“And we will deal with that after we’re all back on solid ground.” Dean looked over at Sam who had shrunk down into the water in an attempt to make himself smaller.

“I tried to grab the book.” Cas’ voice was barely above a whisper.

“Hey, it’s okay. We can dry it out, or hey, buy another copy. I’m sure the author won’t mind the extra royalties.”

“What about everything else? Dean, there was sunscreen in the boat. It shouldn’t stay in the lake. The damage to the plants or the fish…”

“Okay, okay. I’ve got you sweetheart.” Dean reached out and put his arm loosely around Cas, who was definitely showing signs of losing it. Cas rested his head against Dean’s shoulder. “This is what’s going to happen. You,” Dean pointed in Sam’s direction, “are going to go get all our stuff off the bottom of this lake and put it back in the boat. Once you are done with that, you will bring the boat back to shore. Yes, I’m mad at you. No, I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“I’ll help get the stuff.” Jack was more subdued than usual in the wake of Cas’ distress.

“You can help. But not too much, if you get my meaning.”

“I won’t magic everything back in the boat.”

“Sounds good. We’re going to head back in.” Dean began tugging Cas a little as he attempted a one-armed dog paddle. Cas came with him silently, still radiating anger. Dean aimed them diagonally towards the shore, not wanting to end up right in front of Eileen with Cas in this state. There wasn’t much privacy to be had in the middle of the lake, but Dean would give him what he could.

Despite the awkwardness of swimming with one arm while connected to another person, Dean wasn’t going to let go of Cas while he was upset. That physical contact was worth way more than a faster pace.

Eventually the water shallowed out enough for Dean to touch the silty bottom. Once he was confident they both could keep their heads out of the water without needing to tread water, Dean pulled Cas to a halt.

“Hey, angel,” Dean turned to Cas so they were chest to chest. Gently he cupped Cas’ cheek.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice was less filled with the intent to harm, but was still rough in a way that echoed his emotions.

“I’m sorry your wings got all wet.”

Cas looked away. “You didn’t do this.”

“Course not. But I can still be sorry.”

“Dean I hate how they feel. And it’s only going to get worse when I get out and then they’ll get sand and who knows what else…”

“Hey, hey, hey. I know Cas, I know.” Dean leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “We’ll make it better though. Promise.”

Cas frowned, clearly not ready to concede that things would improve quite yet.

“I got an idea,” started Dean, aiming for a lighter mood. “What if I promised that we could do that thing that you like. And we can take as long as you want.”

Cas lifted his head with a jerk. “Where you preen my wings for me? And dry them all?”

“Every last one.” Dean grinned.

A blush rose on Cas’ cheeks as a hint of a smile played around the edges of his mouth. “What about after?”

“After?” asked Dean with all the faux innocence he could muster.

The blush increased but so did the smile. “Dean.”

“Oh we are going to go all out tonight Cas. Clean up your wings and then who knows where it will lead?”

“It will lead to sex, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know Cas, I was making a joke.”

“I know.”

It was the deadpan expression that set Dean off as he burst into peals of laughter, both arms looped easily around Cas’ neck. Cas hugged Dean back, and Dean could feel the tension ease some, comfort shifting to something else entirely.

Dean pulled back first, raising his hand to caress Cas’ cheek with the pad of his thumb. He leaned in slowly, watching Cas’ eyes for any sign of displeasure, and kissed Cas sweetly and then smiling at him. Cas closed the distance the second time, the kiss deeper, longer.

“Not that I’m complaining exactly, but, we keep going like this, getting out is going to be a little embarrassing.”

“I got thrown into a lake with my wings out. How is an erection more embarrassing?”

“Cas, come on man. It just is. Plenty of time for that later.” Dean started walking back towards shore, Cas next to him holding his hand. Dean tried not to focus on how bedraggled his wings looked trailing behind.

“Wait. Dean. Our campsite doesn’t have what we need to clean my wings properly.”

“Oh, I’ve got a plan Cas. Don’t worry.”

“Does it involve tying Sam to a tree for the night?”

“No it does not… Well, probably not.”

“Lining his sleeping bag with poison ivy?”

“I can’t do that to Eileen. I highly doubt she had any part of his stupid plan.”

“Ghost peppers in his food?”

“Cas, while I appreciate where your head’s at, we probably shouldn’t kill my brother.”

“Does that mean maiming is also off the table?”

Dean paused. “Yeah. It does. No, I have a better plan.”

“Better than changing his sunscreen out for lotion?”

“Yes. We let him torture himself.”

“We what?”

“Trust me. He will imagine all sorts of horrors that could be rained down on him from either of us. All we have to do is glare, hint, and look like we’re conspiring to do something awful.”

“That will work?”

“Yup. It’s that guilty conscience. He’ll be wondering and wondering when we’re going to strike. Plus he probably feels bad, so he’ll attempt to apologize and make it up to you. Starting with tonight.”

“How do you know what he’s going to start with?”

“Well, we just have to mention how important proper wing grooming is and he will hand over his cash for us to go stay at that cute inn we passed on the way out here. You and me take Baby and head out to a cushy night of pampering and he gets to stew in a tent. Plus if Eileen is even a little bit the woman I know she is, she’s going to be pissed and give him additional grief to help him stew in his own juices too.”

Cas stopped walking abruptly, grabbing Dean’s arm.

“What? You okay, Cas? Step on something?”

“Dean that’s brilliant. Angels don’t think of torture that way.”

Dean laughed. “Neither does hell. But I know my brother. He’s totally going to do the work for us.”

Cas pecked Dean on the cheek and resumed walking, the water now up to only their knees. “Should I be in less of a good mood?”

“Definitely. I mean, I wouldn’t go overboard…”

“That’s not funny Dean,” interrupted Cas with a stern frown.

“Shit, I didn’t mean that one.”

“I guess it works on both the Winchester brothers,” said Cas serenely after.

It took a few seconds for Dean to realize his husband was playing him. “If I didn’t think Eileen was watching I would totally knock you on your ass right now.”

“I know.”

Dean huffed and tried to aim for a neutrally stony expression. He was still pissed at Sammy, but right now, with the promise of a nice night with his husband, Dean didn’t care about that so much. He was already imagining how he’d clean and dry every feather on Cas’ wings, which always got them both super horny. They’d find some steak joint after (or burgers if Cas really wanted burgers) and have a nice meal where they’d eat too much. Then a soft bed and a lazy evening of just being together. Maybe he’d even get Jack to magic their book dry and readable so they could keep going with that. Dean would deal with his anger with Sam later. He had no problem letting Sam reflect on his poor choices, while Dean and Cas relaxed on his dime.

They climbed out of the water, Cas shaking his wings periodically and wincing at the state of them, Dean letting his temper come up a little again. Yup, Sammy was definitely going to pay for his stupid stunt. And Dean was ready to reap the benefits.

#destiel #spn fanfic #myfic #pranks gone wrong #i had fun writing this #hope you enjoy

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notanotherreidgirl · 3 years

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ok so imagine that u and virgin!baby boy Reid are roommates (you share an apartment and ur rooms are right next to eachother) and he can always hear u moan every night that you play with yourself, but he feels to guilty to do anything about his little ‘problem’. and suddenly one night he’s like super horny and jerks off, not knowing that you’re awake and can hear everything. you try to drown him out until you hear him moan your name, so you go to his room and slowly open the door so he doesn’t hear you and when he feels you on the bed he’s super apologetic but you’re like “it’s okay baby boy😏” and he’s like “please mommy let me make you feel good🥺” and even though its his first time hes so good and when you let him fuck you hes so whiny and needy 😩😩😩😩

We Shouldn't

Warnings: loss of virginity, masturbating, handjob, oral sex (male receiving), perv!spence, sub!spence, mommy kink, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 1444

A/N: I embellished a bit - apologies

Spencer made life or death decisions nearly every day. He had to carefully craft his words when talking down unsubs and be able to assess dangerous situations in seconds to decide whether or not to shoot someone but now, when faced with a relatively simple choice, he was completely stumped. He had been rooted to the spot for nearly 20 minutes, unable to process the sight before him.

In his defense, Spencer had very little experience with women’s underwear and certainly no experience with something like the lacy little number you had left in the dryer. At this point, he had spent so much time staring at you that he knew without a doubt that they were yours. He also knew that he most definitely should not be picking them up right now or putting them in his pocket or running out of the laundry room and back to his apartment without putting his clothes to dry. And he most definitely should not be stashing your panties in his bedside table. But, alas, should not is not the same as did not.

For example, he should not watch you from his window when you went off on your morning run clad in running shorts and a tank top. He also should not linger behind you in the stairwell, eyes glued to your ass as you bounded up the stairs. And he certainly should not listen to you get yourself off at night but he did, even going as far as to take down his framed map and press his ear up against the wall. Spencer’s only saving grace was that thus far he had managed not to touch himself thinking of you, the overwhelming guilt forcing him to take a cold shower instead. But tonight was different. Tonight the panties in his bedside table were beckoning him as he ate leftover takeout, calling his name as leafed through books he’d already memorized, burning a hole through the wooden drawer as he slipped under the covers and listened for you on the other side of the wall.

There’s no harm in just holding them, he reasoned. The next thing he knew the panties were out of the drawer and in his hand and his pants had somehow slipped to mid-thigh in the process. This could be fine. I’ll find a way to give them back tomorrow and no one will know.

And maybe, just maybe, if Spencer was a man of more restraint he would’ve gotten away with it but he was not. He could hear you getting ready for bed, singing quietly to yourself. It was oddly intoxicating to know that you were going about your business, completely unaware of him and convinced that you were operating within the privacy of your own home.

Except you weren’t ignorant of your next door neighbor. Thin walls worked both ways and you could hear his soft moans reverberating into your own bedroom. You sang a little louder to drown him out, guilt eclipsing your excitement. You had often wondered about the young doctor next door - always coming and going at odd hours, never meeting your eyes or bringing anyone back to his for the night. He was so nervous around you, it made you wonder if he’d ever been with a woman but you shook the thought from your head. I should not be thinking about my neighbor’s sex life or lack thereof.

Just as you resolved to go in the kitchen and leave him in peace you heard it. It was unmistakable. You stilled listening intently, half-convinced your imagination was playing tricks on you as it often did. But there it was again clear as day. “Fuck, Y/N”

You were an overthinker, always going over your options rationally and hardly ever comfortable with making spur of the moment decisions. But you were out of your apartment in seconds, using the spare key he had nervously entrusted you with weeks ago to slip into his place. A little voice in your head tried in vain to talk sense into you. You should not be breaking into an FBI agent’s apartment.

If only should not was the same as did not.

He had his back to you and you took the opportunity to perch yourself on the edge of his bed, the shift in the mattress finally alerting him to your presence. He whirled around in alarm and instinctively tried to hide himself and the stolen underwear, already soaked in precum and wrapped around his erection. You tilted your head slightly, trying your best to hide a smirk. “I thought I heard you calling for me”

“I-no-I can explain,” he flushed a deep scarlet, his futile attempts to conceal his predicament were only making it worse and there was no way he could come up with a plausible explanation with your eyes on him. The panic rising in his chest swelled - the feeling that he had ruined everything starting to trigger an overwhelming urge to cry. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

You softened your gaze, reaching out to place a reassuring hand on his thigh. “It’s ok, baby boy”

Just then, something changed. A switch flipped, a light came on, a natural dynamic fell into place. Very gently you took his hand, forcing him to uncover himself.

“Wouldn’t you rather the real thing?” With that you trailed his hand up your thigh and to your soaked core, letting him skim his fingers over the wetness between your legs and take in the notable lack of panties.

“I-uh-yes, but-” he stopped for a moment, searching deep within himself for a shred of courage before blurting out the rest. “I’m a virgin”

Much to his surprise, you didn’t even bat an eye, instead, you sunk down on your knees and ran your hands up his thighs. “Well then, we’d better make this extra special”

You replaced his hands, taking hold of his cock over the panties and setting in with a deliberate pace before running your tongue over his balls. You toyed with the soft flesh until you felt his thighs tremble and the whimpers he had been trying to suppress spilled from his lips. Once you were certain he had abandoned any sense of restraint you started to suck on his balls, relentlessly pulling him into your mouth and teasing him with your tongue. At this point he was incomprehensible, any words he might have said being carried away by the sobs working their way up his throat and the tears streaming down his face. Just when you were sure he’d come you retreated, pressing sloppy kisses down his thighs and removing your hands from his cock.

He whined. “Please, Mommy. Let me make you feel good.”

You pushed yourself up and into his lap, taking your shirt off in the process and cradling his face in your hands. “You think you can make Mommy come?”

He nodded into your chest, capturing a nipple into his mouth and instinctively sucking on it. You guided his hands to your waist and you lined yourself up with his tip, slowly sinking down and adjusting to his size. He gripped your waist tightly, willing himself not to come as he watched himself disappear into you. “All right then, let’s see if you can be a good boy.”

Spencer sprang into action, taking hold and bouncing you on his cock as he rutted into you. Simultaneously he continued to latch onto your breasts, littering your chest with marks. You dug your nails into his shoulders, feeling the tide of your release start to sweep you away. “Yes, just like that, baby. You’re being so good for me. So fucking good. My good boy.”

Just before you reached your peak, you threaded a hand in Spencer's hair and pulled him up to look at you. Those big brown eyes stared up at you, pupils dilated and vision hazy with lust. “I want you to come with me, baby. Right now.”

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, pure euphoria coursing through your veins and only amplifying when Spencer flooded you with his warm release. He gave a few more shallow thrusts, whimpering from the overstimulation before the two of you collapsed back onto the bed. You shifted slightly so you could hold him in your arms without separating, brushing his hair back behind his ear as he buried his face into your neck, now overcome with embarrassment over his actions. “I’m sorry, Mommy. I shouldn’t have taken your panties”

You tightened your embrace and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s ok, darling. I’m glad you did.”

---

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#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #mommy kink collection #my beloved sub!spence with a mommy kink #sub!spencer #unsuitable for work

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red-letter-imagines · 3 years

Text

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 3 (Smiley, Kazutora,Shinichiro)

Part 1 Part 2

okAY finally here’s part 3! Apologies if this took so long; I don’t usually explore these characters as often as I do others, so I hope this does them a little justice! Constructive criticisms are welcome, of course.

So without further ado, I present Smiley, Kazutora and Shinichiro

Kawata “Smiley” Nahoya:

The bed creaks under both of you as Nahoya pins you down. Pants, growls and mewls tumble from your lips while your beloved crafts a map of his adoration on your chest. So proud of you, baby. So, so proud. You whisper into his cotton candy locks, pressing yourself closer to him. His hands tighten around your hips in return.

The Kawata twins finally opened their ramen restaurant earlier this afternoon. It was a joyous but exhausting event. Their former Toman friends came to celebrate, and it was one of the few times your Nahoya actually wore a genuine smile on his face. Even Souya’s harsh features noticeably softened. Your own cheeks still kind of hurt from all the grinning you did, but its an ache you never want to end.

As a surprise and congratulations for your beloved brawler, you bought a new set of lingerie that matches the color of his hair. It has harnesses atop your breasts and around your thighs-something you knew Nahoya had quite the fetish for, but downright refused to admit to you. His hands traced it the instant you disrobed, and your back hit the mattress a second later.

All of this for me, bunny? You shouldn’t have. Nahoya hums just above your navel. You rake your nails lightly on his scalp, and you feel him shudder.

All for you, baby. You worked so hard to open Sugoaku, it’s time for me to take care of you. You kiss him again, and wrangle his tongue between your lips. His hips grind down on you, and a moan sings from his open mouth. You smirk.

Just sit back and relax. ‘Gonna make you feel so good.

Hanemiya Kazutora:

For almost his whole life, Kazutora never truly felt wanted, loved. His family was torn apart right before his eyes, he lost his friends because of the stupid shit he did as a kid. Then after a decade of doing nothing but thinking, he still walks alone.

That is, before he met you. You appeared like an oasis to his desert of a life, with a smile that could pierce through the darkness and a love so pure he could never deem himself worthy of it. You were patient with him when he refused to collapse around you and cared for him when he finally fell apart. His cries into your chest only called you to love him more, and for the first time his burdens let him be. Only with you. To him, you are the redemption he needed.

These were the words he so badly wanted to tell you, yet even saying it with everything he had still fell short to explain just how much you gave him. So, he’ll do the only thing he thought could show even just a fraction of how he loved you- get down on one knee.

Chifuyu had been gracious to allow him leave so he could prepare. Kazutora practiced cooking your favorite Tonkatsu curry, since he couldn’t afford a high-end restaurant table yet. Besides, you weren’t materialistic at all, and fawned over his efforts more than his gifts. Then, he filled the tub with warm, bubbly rosewater and lit lavender candles for when you get home. With ten minutes left to spare, he sat in your living room with a spinning head and clammy hands.

You arrive and he nearly sprints to the door, echoing a ‘welcome home’ to your tired greeting. He freezes at your smile, still so loving and so bright in spite of the fatigue that colored your face and curved your back. Such a sight he took for granted every day, yet now he couldn’t adore it more. His body moves before he could properly think, and he kneels in front of you with the ring box open.

He curses himself inside for being so rash, for throwing his own efforts out the window. He did it on instinct, so enamored with you he was. Screwing his eyes shut and wrenching them open, he forces the words from his clenched teeth. W-Will you-

But you didn’t let him finish, for you had tackled him to the ground. His lips are sealed with yours, breaths rapid and stuttering with incoming sobs. Kazutora holds onto you like a fleeting dream, presenting himself wholly to you. And with all the love in your heart, you caress his tongue with yours. Yes, you mouth on his lips, Yes.

Tears spring to his eyes at how loved he feels, and he slides the ring on your finger. Finally.

Sano Shinichiro:

You sit atop Shin’s Bobber, watching your man handle a little issue within his gang. It’s the first time you see him as the leader of Black Dragon, not your high school sweetheart Shin, and it’s a world of a difference to what you’re used to. You and Shin have known each other since the sandbox; of course you knew about his penchant for picking fights. But every time he’d actually engage in one, somehow you were always never there to witness it. You had an inkling he was doing it on purpose, simply because he wanted to keep you from seeing this side of him. You couldn’t blame him, really, but you wanted to be a part of his life wholly. So, you persisted until he finally caved and brought you to a meeting under the condition that you don’t leave his sight.

Easy enough, you thought, and parked your behind on his custom ride. Now, you knew this was a democratic discussion, and you generally have to butt out...but did it have to take so long? And you’re starting to get really hungry. You huff.

Gang matters or not, you needed food. Blowing a stray lock from your face, you get up and walk over to him. His back is turned to you, and you could faintly hear something about an opposing gang from Ikebukuro spitting on their name. You tap his shoulder, doe-eyed and smiling.

What is it, sweets? He asks you, his attention to his associates cut off completely. Your smile widens.

I’m just gonna go grab somethin’ to eat. Anything you want me t’ get you? While you speak, his hands rub your hips and play with your belt loops.

Maybe a cheeseburger. Y’know the one.

Alrighty. Be right back. You lean in to kiss him, and he gives back a mere peck. Your brows furrow at this, nostrils flaring just a little. You click your tongue and pull him down by the neck, taking advantage of his opened mouth to suckle on his tongue. He barely catches himself when you pull away, his collar crooked and a bright red blush running all the way down his neck.

Smirking, you saunter away with a flip of your hair, while the other members cheer and whistle for their top man.

#Tokyo Revengers #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fluff #kawata nahoya x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #tokyo revengers kazutora #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #kazutora x you #smiley #nahoya x reader #smiley x reader

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kaitsawamura · 3 years

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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