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sonicslushie · 1 year

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Slipped My Mind ~ P.P.

Summary: You’re the person who designs Spiderman’s suits, but you never actually met the man- or boy- behind the mask.

A/N: terrible summary & first fic, originally this was going to be based on the conan gray song “yours” but it took an odd turn in there so it's not lmao. But if you wanna read that let me know i’m dying to write more for petey boy. This is also like a little fluff thing that i threw together in a few hours so it’s not the best (my b)

a playlist for u to listen to as u read<3

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark Intern!Reader

TW: kinda a clueless reader, mentions of blood and open wounds,

Wordcount: 3.6k

Ice cream was all you wanted. It was your lunch break from Stark Industries, the place you interned at because of your impressive resume, and partly because your dad just so happened to be the owner of Tony Stark’s favorite burger place. You had been a pretty smart kid, finished highschool early and graduated MIT with a degree in engineering and all you wanted was to build supersuits. That was the dream, wasn’t it? Helping the world’s mightiest heroes by being the one who created their high tech suits and accessories, actually making a difference for those who saved billions of lives? Yeah, no.

You started out three years ago as Ms. Potts' personal assistant at the ripe age of 16. You spent 2.5 years of that assisting just doing the basic intern stuff; grabbing coffee and burgers, attending meetings to take notes, scheduling and yatta yatta, the occasional fake laugh at a dad joke that Mr. Stark made. It wasn’t until you joined Ms. Potts in Mr. Stark’s lab to give him his burger, and you corrected his formulas on some project and you thought it was OVER. He looked surprised that you even spoke to him, oh fuck, you messed up. Or so you had thought. He actually told you that you were right?? Then, I swear to god, he asked what you would do to improve the project he was working on. (It was a super suit for the newest hero, Spiderman.) He liked your idea to add what you called the “training wheels” protocol. Mr. Stark decided to give you a chance and he had you help him create the rest of the suit, and now 6 months later, you were in charge of all things Spiderman.

But that’s not the point of the story right now, right now, you wanted ice cream.

And you had just bought two big scoops in a freshly made waffle cone. Honestly the best use of 5 bucks, or so you thought. Just as you were about to take the first lick, a red and blue streak sprinted past- no into you. It was like a movie, all you saw was your delicious creamy dessert flying up in the air in slow motion, then- SLAT! Both you and the ice cream were on the ground, a familiar looking super suit standing above you, stammering about how he was “so sorry” and “chasing a bad guy” in a very peppy voice.

“You’re Spiderman, why weren’t you swinging from building to building?” You asked, furious you were now going to have to buy another one. You just wanted one thing, could you not just have it without dealing with this bozo?

“Forgot to put in new web fluid. I’m sorry about your ice cream but I’ve really gotta- I don’t see him anymore. Shoot.” He says, shaking his head. “You know what, let me make this up to you. I’ll buy you another one.”

Well that seemed fair and it slightly cooled off your now bad mood. You agree and wait in line with the dude who you create super suits for. The funny thing is, this was actually the first time you ever met the one and only Spiderman- or Spiderling as Mr. Stark calls him. You don’t even know who the person is under the mask, but at this point you really didn’t care about it, you just wanted your ice cream.

After waiting in line for what felt like forever and making meaningless small talk with the masked hero, you make it to the front of the line.

“Two scoops of strawberry, please. Waffle cone.” You smile at the worker, then turn to Spiderboy. You say at the same time as the employee, “5 bucks.”

The Spiderdude pats his sides as if feeling for a wallet, then looks at you with that expressionless mask- god you had to work on that- and says, “I don't have my wallet.”

You could almost smack him in the back of the head, but you just take your wallet out and give the worker a 5 dollar bill. Taking the new ice cream, you turn to the hero, “Well now you owe me two, Spidey.”

“I-I’ll make it up to you, do you have Venmo?” He asks, panic rising in his voice. He sounded young, maybe around your age. If you were honest, he piqued your interest. So instead of rolling your eyes and walking away, you pulled your phone out.

“Here,” you say, ready to just get back to the lab. He takes a picture of it and gives you a thumbs up.

“I’ll have to make a new venmo so you can’t figure out my identity, but I gotta run.” He says, and literally runs off. You stand there, looking at the hero you basically manage but just met, then your ice cream. What a day, huh? You shrug it off and begin to eat your ice cream as you head back to the office.

The ice cream had been off your mind ever since you finished the yummy dessert, and went back to designing your own web fluid. Sure the dude had his own way of making it (you weren’t really sure if it had been coming out of him or not until today, you never really had the chance to ask anyone), but you knew you could do it better. Everyone at Stark Industries called you ‘Junior’ for a reason, and it wasn’t just because of your crazy intelligence. It might have also been the slight egotistical self assurance and the stubbornness you possessed.

As you worked you listened to music and snacked on the various foods you hid in the lab unbeknownst to Mr. Stark. Here and there you would test the web fluid with some of the new web shooter prototypes you had made, at this point you could swing around New York from how often you used these things. You often thought of it and giggled at the thought; ridiculous, these silly little dreams you possessed.

You had been giggling about it to yourself when the one and only Mr. Stark walked in- with a kid who was talking so fast and in such a familiar peppy tone that you couldn’t help but look up.

“-and then I looked up dodo birds and did you know they’re basically just big pigeons?” He finished, looking up at Mr. Stark with big brown doe eyes that sparkled in the light. Sparkle in the light? Oh come on, y/n. You caught yourself ogling at the new kid, still trying to figure out where you heard that voice before. Little miss genius might be able to create the highest tech super suits in the world, but boy oh boy did you have a hard time connecting dots.

“Right, big pigeons. Anyway, Peter, this is y/n y/l/n. Junior, this is Peter Parker.” Mr. Stark says, looking at you as if you could take the excitable kid off of his hands.

Now, Mr. Stark is a lot of things, and busy is one of them. This just so happens to affect his memory, and in this case, he completely forgot that he never introduced Spiderling- Peter Parker- to his favorite intern. It slipped his mind, I mean when you’re a billionaire CEO and a superhero, the little things tend to slip the mind. It’s not like he meant to never introduce you two, he really did mean to. But every time Peter’s been at the tower, Junior was always gone either for the weekend or for her lunch break. Plus, Mr. Stark had things to do. Like right now; get out of this boring conversation and get burgers from his favorite burger place with Happy.

“Oh it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” You say, not knowing that you met Peter earlier that day as Spiderman. But Peter knew, and he also forgot that he had to venmo you for that ice cream from earlier. Caught off guard, his eyes just go wide and he awkwardly smiles and waves at you like an idiot.

“Um okay. Anyway, Mr. Stark, I was about to head out, but I got the new web fluid made and finished up the new prototypes for web shooters. I also started up blueprints for a new suit. I forgot to mention I saw Spiderboy today and I gotta say, that suit does nothing for his ass.” You say, going back to the blueprints in front of you, making sure everything is perfect for tomorrow morning. Mr. Stark takes a peek over your shoulder, nodding in approval, then says, “Well I’ve got to hit the road, I’ve got… an important meeting to attend. Yeah. See ya tomorrow, Junior, same to you Pete.”

You and Peter tell Mr. Stark bye in various fashions, being left in an awkward silence, neither of you really knowing how to proceed from there. Mr. Stark never told you that you would be meeting with Spiderdude to discuss your progress on the new ideas you had come up with but if he didn't show up before 5 you weren't staying, you'd didn't get paid enough. Peter wasn’t told he would be seeing the girl he literally ran into and owe her ice cream money. Seems like it just slipped Mr. Stark’s mind again.

“So um, whatcha doing here Peter?” You say, begin to clean up your workstation to go home. Peter was just standing awkwardly behind you, trying to figure out what to say. He was also unaware that you didn’t know that he was Spiderman, he had figured Mr. Stark would have told you if you were the one working on his suits all this time.

“Oh I was um- just leaving actually. Looks like you’re ready to go home, so I- Yeah I’m just gonna go.” He says quickly, turning on his heel to leave. At this point you were just ready to go home, so you shrug it off and say, “Nice meeting you, Peter. See ya.”

He doesn’t say anything as he leaves. If he was being honest, he’s never been good at talking to pretty girls. Not to mention super awesome pretty intern girls who have been providing him his super awesome super suit. Probably too many “supers” but he didn’t care, he could barely even function in the same room as you. Not to mention he made a fool of himself earlier, but honestly you didn’t even seem to remember, which threw him off even more. And when you said “nice to meet you” it confused him, you two had met earlier that day. God, he had to get some fresh air.

Peter made it outside and was cooling down from that super awkward and weird encounter, when he saw you pulling out of the car park in your car, singing along loudly to some Miley Cyrus song. He turns away, trying not to make it obvious that he was avoiding you. But you turned your head as you were looking for oncoming traffic, and you saw him.

You don’t know why you did it, but you rolled your window down and yelled above the loud ass music, “Hey Peter! You waiting on a ride?”

He was too caught off guard to lie, and to be fair he didn’t even like lying, so he shook his head and before he knew it, he was getting in your car.

“Where are you heading?” You asked, turning the music down. He tries not to be as awkward as before as he says, “Queens, but it’s a far drive you really don’t have to-”

“Oh I live there too! Don’t even worry about it,” you say, happy you could do something for the odd kid. He was a bit awkward, but in a cute sort of way. It almost made your stomach get butterflies at the thought of you of all people making him nervous.

“Oh okay, thanks so much. I really appreciate it,” he says, then after a beat of intense silence with Miley wailing in the background, he decides to try and make conversation. “So how long have you been working for Mr. Stark?”

“Since I was 16, so like 3 years. Most of it was being Ms. Potts’ assistant though,” you say, tapping your fingers to the beat.

“Woah, wait so did you like graduate early?” He asks, now immensely intrigued. You give him the rundown of the past 6 years of your life, to which he’s very impressed and totally not thinking about how pretty you look in the dying sunlight. Totally would never do that.

“But yeah, that’s me. What about you, how did you get involved with Mr. Stark?” You ask, glancing over at him slightly. You must say for a dork, he had some very nice features.

“Very long story that includes him hitting on my aunt. Ugh,” he shivers at the memory, “And a trip to Germany.”

That rings some bells in your head, but to be fair Mr. Stark is in Germany a lot so you don’t really question it. Like I said, you don’t connect dots very well unless it’s in the form of equations.

You guys talk all the way to Peter’s apartment, you even give him your phone number if he ever needs a ride to the office. As Peter walks off, you both can’t help but wonder how weird the day has been. But as you drive off and turn up the radio, you put it out of your mind. Time to go home and relax.

Only when you got home, you didn’t relax. Almost as soon as you step into your apartment, your phone lets out a little “cha-ching” noise, notifying you that someone just venmoed you. You completely forgot about Spidey owing you for your ice cream until you saw the little notification: Spidey paid you $10 with an ice cream emoji underneath. You smirk, then go back to fully entering your apartment. Only to hear your phone go off a few seconds later, another venmo notification, this time a comment left under the money he just paid you.

I feel really bad about earlier. I figured I’d pay for both.

You raise an eyebrow at your phone, smiling a little to yourself. He seems sweet. Sweeter than most guys you’ve run into in the middle of New York. And trust me, it’s happened more often than you’d like to admit.

You type back.

I really appreciate that Spiderdude. Love the profile pic;)

His profile picture was that one Spiderman meme with the three Spidermans pointing at each other. It made you giggle, at least he had a sense of humor. Most superheroes (*cough* Steve Rogers *cough*) didn’t. A few seconds later he sends another message.

Next time I’ll get you three scoops:)

You smiled and decided that was a pretty good deal, three free ice creams? Sounds like a scam but you weren’t going to question it. You just put your phone down and decided it was time to have a nice warm bath and rock out to Taylor Swift.

It was a while before you heard from both Peter or Spiderman, and you were still clueless to the fact that they were the same person. After a few weeks of that whole situation being off your mind, you were going into work on a late night call from Mr. Stark said that something urgent came up with the Spiderling and he wasn’t in town to take care of it. So, you jumped out of bed and rushed out still in your pajamas to the Stark Tower.

You sped all the way there, the stars oddly bright for the city. You made note to go to the rooftop of your apartment whenever you were able to make it back. You always had a thing for the stars, having not grown up in New York. The city was beautiful, but you could truly say that you hated the nights there. No stars glittering overhead, cars and people being loud at all hours of the night. The only good thing you could say about the night in New York was all the food places that were open 24/7. (You tend to have a craving for Thai food at odd hours of the night.)

Upon arriving at the Stark Tower, you ask F.R.I.D.A.Y what’s going on, and she directs you to your lab. You make your way up there, wondering what in the world this kid could be needing that’s so urgent. If it’s something stupid, dear god, help him. You would molly whop him into the next dimension.

The lab doors upon a very beat up Spiderboy, who’s laid across your desk. Laying in a pile of blood. Okay, good enough reason, you supposed, immediately dropping all idea’s of punching the poor kid in the head.

You rush up to him, taking in his half dead state of being. A giant would- no a hole would be a better way of putting it. Just a big hole in his side, with a lot of blood seeping out of it. You poke him, making sure he’s still breathing. He groans in response, it’s enough to get you moving. You had planned on this a long time ago, you created a device to regrow skin just for this occasion. You found it and within seconds, his wound began healing, though it might take a while for him to create enough blood to be able to even be able to sit up again. At that thought, you ordered F.R.I.D.A.Y. to get the building’s onsite medical team to get the kid.

Once you were finished fixing his gaping hole, you poked him again, praying he was still alive. There was so much blood everywhere, but you tried to keep your Thai food down as you begged for him to wake up.

“Come on kid, you can’t die on me. Mr. Stark would kill us both,” you say, starting to shake him now. You could see his chest moving up and down slightly, but he wasn’t waking up. You pleaded in your head for the med team to get there quickly, you didn’t know why you were so upset by this. Sure, it would be sad if the kid died, but you didn’t know him like that. You didn’t know him well enough to be crying over his dying body, begging him to just open his eyes or say something. Not that you could see them through the mask-

The mask.

Your trembling hand goes to take it off, but the medical team rushes in just as you begin peeling it off, only exposing his neck.

You step back as the med team begins working on him, you let them know that you healed him, but he needed blood. That was all you could say before they moved him onto the gurney and began taking him away, you called after, “Just wake up, Spidey, please!”

That was the first thing that Peter remembers hearing, your voice. Lights were flashing overhead as he heard people saying things above him, though he couldn’t comprehend any of it. God, he was so dizzy. And why wasn’t his side hurting anymore? He started grabbing for his side, but the people around him stopped him from doing so. What was going on?

“You were bleeding out,” one of them says from above him, he’s starting to hear them more clearly now. Maybe his superhealing had finally set in. “No, Ms. y/l/n just saved your life. Now calm down, you’re going to be okay.”

Peter didn’t realize he was just speaking his thoughts as they came to him, he also didn’t realize that you had decided to follow the medical team just to make sure he ended up okay. It’s not that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to be sure. So much for looking at the stars, huh?

Peter kept babbling as the medical team got him to their facility a few floors down, starting to connect tubes to give him more blood. One of them goes to take his mask off to check for any head wounds, but he stops them. He’s conscious enough to know that he knows none of these people, and none of these people need to know that he’s Peter Parker.

“You’re Peter Parker?” You say, total confusion in your voice. Damn it, did he say that out loud? “Yes, you did, you idiot.”

You get as close as you can without getting in the way of the people trying to help him. Once they were all done and he was getting the blood that he needed, you asked them to leave so you could talk to Peter. How did you not realize? He has a very distinctive voice, and obviously that’s why Mr. Stark brought him into your lab a few weeks ago. Seriously, not your best moment.

“So you’re the infamous Spiderman?” You say, sitting on the edge of his cot. He peels his mask off and takes a breath of fresh air.

“Wait,” it hits him that you didn’t know, what is going on? “You didn’t know?”

“Nope,” you laugh, “I’m not really sure how I didn’t, especially after Mr. Stark brought you in there. I’m also not sure how he never mentioned that you were there person I’ve been making all this superhero stuff for. Must have slipped his mind.” Understatement of the century.

“I thought you knew, that’s why I never really mentioned it. Also,” he smiles a little to himself, “I promised to get you ice cream next time I saw you. How about it?”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “You’re in a cot getting blood poured into you.”

“When I’m better?”

“Sounds like a date.”

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #mcu peter parker #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman x you #spiderman x reader #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman fanfic

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pkmnprofloblolly · 8 months

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Hello! Trainer from Alola here, big fan of your work. I was wondering; is there any evidence of any legendary pokemon being related to other pokemon? For example, does Rayquaza share any DNA with other dragon pokemon? (I know it would be extremely difficult to get any rayquaza DNA fhshfjd) Or are pokemon like that entirely their own species?

the answer is, as with many things on this blog.. it depends!

"legendary pokemon" aren't really a cohesive category like, say, a type or a taxonomic group. the only common factors are that they tend to be very rare and that they have legends about them. as our examples, let's use two groups of hoenn legendary pokemon: latios and latias, and groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza.

latios and latias (like other pairs such as nidoqueen and nidoking, or volbeat and illumise, latios and latias are sexually dimorphic members of the same species) are indeed related to other pokemon- they're birds! specifically, they're in the auk family, which are a group of generally stout, seafaring birds like guillemots and puffins. this may seem strange- the latis appear to have wings and arms, and no legs, very unlike birds. however, if we take a look at their skeleton, the connection becomes much more obvious:

what we generally interpret as arms are actually the lati's legs, the thighs of which are obscured by flesh and feathers. while they use their wings to steer and for some lift, the latis generally stay aloft with their psychic powers rather than traditional flight, which is why they can hover in place. this has freed up their legs for use in manipulating objects, and they are rarely seen standing on their feet. because they mostly rely on hovering, their legs no longer have the strength to hold their large bodies up for very long.

these pokemon are indeed exceptionally rare, having very low population numbers in only a few regions, and spending most of their time over open ocean. like many pelagic seabirds, they breed on only a few small islands, like alto mare off the johto region and southern island off hoenn's south coast. their populations are on the upswing, though, in large part due to concentrated conservation efforts on those islands. point being, though, they are indeed just animals. rare, powerful animals, but animals nonetheless.

many legendary pokemon fall into this camp. articuno, zapdos, and moltres, lugia and ho-oh, heatran, and various others.

conversely, the so-called weather trio of hoenn: groudon, kyogre, and rayquaza. these three are even more rarely seen than the latis, only having been sighted in recent times during their clash in hoenn nearly two decades ago. despite the three's resemblance to other living pokemon, as far as we know they are entirely unrelated to any known animals, or even any other life on earth.

this is known because evidence of these pokemon have been found dating back over 3 billion years ago, that is to say over a billion years before multicellular life even existed. gigantic fragments of footprints attributed to groudon have been sighted alongside some of the earliest fossils we know of of early bacteria. modern physical samples from these pokemon- the extremely few that have ever been recovered- have never resulted in any dna evidence, and appear in structure much more similar to inorganic matter.

as it stands, it appears these pokemon arose some time early (relatively speaking) after the earth formed, being (as opposed to natural living organisms) animate representations of the forces of nature themselves. a similar condition is often assumed for some other grandiose legendary pokemon, such as dialga and palkia, though much less tangible evidence exists for their presence in prehistoric time, so this is mostly an assumption based on their infrequent appearances & legends surrounding their origins.

#Anonymous #art #latias #latios #pokemon #pkmn irl #speculative biology #kyogre #groudon #rayquaza #pkmn

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nicodrawings · 11 months

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Dump time featuring Billie Morales aka Silly Billie

Update 2: oh! Also the first two illustrations are based on Yotsuba art!

Update: ok HC time, if you wanna know more keep reading as usual.

BILLIE SECTION

-I made Billie 5 years old.

-I’ve mentioned this before but Billie has Asperger’s.

-She didn’t talk until she was like 3 going on 4.

-Her nickname is "silly billy"

-Miles always says "how's my favorite girl in the whole wide world?" when he comes home from school on the weekends.

-Miles is a doting big brother and helps take care of her as well as connecting with her interests.

-As much as she loves her parents, she thinks the world of Miles. She's up under him the most, especially when she's over stimulated, stressed or sleepy. His heartbeat calms her.

-She has a limit to physical contact and taps when she’s ready to let go. She usually only hugs her family. Her and Ganke do hand touches instead of hugs.

-The family helps her navigate her environment and her emotions as well as socializing but never push anything that makes her uncomfortable. They always ask questions and have special routines to help her.

-A part of her routine is on Saturdays they go to the park so she can see the pigeons.

-Miles does not like pigeons, but tolerates them for Billies sake.

-They also have special songs for her like "🎶when you walk across the street take ur eyes off your feet🎶" to remind her to look both ways and pay attention when walking across the street since she can get distracted easily.

-The songs they use also attach her to music. So whenever they go to ganke he plays the piano for her and they make songs up and when she hears a song she likes she starts stimming and wiggling.

-She also takes interest in drawing because she sees Miles drawing and they draw animals and watch Steve Irwin on Saturdays too.

-She doesn't understand figure of speeches so if you say "don't sweat it" she would be like "...sweat what?"

-she doesn’t show a lot of emotions unless she’s feeling something intense.

-She rarely sees Miles in superhero mode in public but when she does she just goes “SPIDER!” and smiles and he waves at her.

-Moral of this story, she is loved.

HOBIE

-He lives with his grandparents in the Bronx area (I’m not sure which side yet tho).

-He loves his grandparents very much.

-One time at a punk rock concert a wise man told him “the most punk thing to do is to take care of yourself, don’t be reliant on the system to do so, cuz they ain’t”

-He told his grandpa the following day and they had a heart to heart about it considering that Hobie was very depressed at the time.

-So with that being said, health is incredibly important to him.

-Some ppl tease him and call him “straight-edge” but it don’t bother him much.

-Hobie officially meets the other spiders when he’s 16.

-Clicks with Gwen and Miles almost immediately.

-Especially Miles, Peter always jokes and says that they were definitely brothers in their past lives.

-Gwen and Hobie bond over music.

-Gwen gets the crush first.

-But unlike Miles she’s more forward and doesn’t wait a billion years so she’s asks him out.

-Hobie says yes.

-Only one that knows how to drive by the time he’s 18.

OTHER STUFF

-Gwen’s relationship with her father just…never gets better in my AU. He’s just an ass and as far as Gwen is concerned they’re not family, they’re just related. With that being said, although it’s never acknowledged, Gwen definitely sees Peter as a father figure in her life. She even has him as her top emergency contact. Peter started to understand this when she was 16, he never questioned it and sees her as his oldest daughter. When she’s had really bad arguments with her father she goes to Peters and spends the night.

-Peter and MJ’s home is open to all the spiderkids. No questions asked.

-Peter and MJ always say “On our taxes we have one kid” when people ask them how many kids they have.

-When Peter gets home he sees how many pairs of shoes are at the door then yells “how many kids are in the house?" They usually yell in response which gives him an idea as to how many kids are there.

-On average there’s no less than 2.

-One time he asked and a really deep voice responded along with the kids.

-It was Venom.

-All the spiders have their own therapist’s but every other weekend there’s a group therapy session for kids with powers funded by S.H.E.I.L.D. It’s not required that they go but it’s open for them regardless, just sign up and come in.

-Ganke donates some of his legos to the program and helps assist sometimes with running it since it’s not ran in the best shape.

-This connects to a bigger problem of helping hero’s with their mental health and stability, especially when they decide to retire.

-If you read the other AU list I had, this is the reason why Ganke switches his major to Social Work when he goes to college.

NICKNAMES

Peter’s nicknames for the kids:

Miles-“Junior/Little Man”

May-“Mayday”

Gwen-"Gwennie Pie”

Ganke-“Goober”

Hobie-“Hobie” (obviously)

Anya-“Ani”

Ganke’s nicknames:

Friends-“Gee” judge calls him “G-money”

Miles’s mom-“Honey”

Ganke’s mom-“Gee-Chan”

The boy that bullies him AKA Sean “Gay-ke”

Peter-“Goober” (as I’ve said before)

Venom and Eddie-“Boy”

Miles’s for when he’s feeling affectionate-“Cariño”

Anyway that’s all I got for now! If you have any questions about my AU please feel free to ask away. I love talking about it as you can see.

#my drawings #artist on tumblr #art #digital art #illustration #ultimate spider man #spiderman #miles morales #peter parker #spider gwen #gwen stacy #spider punk #hobart brown #ganke lee #billie morales #au

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felixcloud6288 · 8 months

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One of my professors decided to stress the importance of research and citing sources when doing research by constantly asking why something was true. At one point, they asked why is the human genome 3 billion base pairs long. Is it possible we have more or less and than that and the people tested were just statistical outliers, and I just...

"'average person's genome is 3 billion base-pairs long' factoid actually just statistical error. average person's genome is 5 base-pairs long. Slime Georg, who has assimilated genetic matter since time immemorial and who's genome sequence is 2.4 x 10^19 base-pairs long, is an outlier and should not have been counted."

#original post #bioinformatics #spiders george #genetics #biology

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onlyseokmins · 30 days

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$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 8 months

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PAIRING: Office! Ghost/Co-Worker! Ghost x F! Reader

WARNINGS: that particular kind of tacit sexual tension you find in corporate Britain || sexy eye contact from across the bullpen || filthy language || 18+ only || smut in later parts so MDNI

Part 1 || Part 2 of 4 || Part 3 || Part 4

***

Things start to get complicated when your supervisor asks to speak to you privately. Of course, he doesn’t provide any context, but by the late morning, you’re twitching in discomfort and anticipation. You look up at Simon to see him—what else?—looking at you already. He has an eyebrow raised in question, and when you shake your head slightly, he goes back to his…whatever he does. Paperwork. Whatever.

A million, billion years would not have been enough for you to guess what your boss wants to talk to you about—Simon.

Thank you for making him feel welcome, he says. Lt Riley’s not really an office kind of guy.

You try your best to keep a straight face when you ask him why Simon’s really being punished and get both a chuckle and a get back to work.

And the surprise conversation makes you think about the other things you've been avoiding thinking about. For one, you’ve always found yourself daydreaming about Ghost during the work day…but things are different now.

He’s always in the back of your mind, you’re always having to jolt yourself out of your daydreams, but you’ve slowly come to realise just how completely out of your league Ghost really is—he has a reputation on base as a loner and a weirdo, and if that wasn’t enough, you’d even heard through the grapevine that he was 141. You, on the other hand, were a pervy data analyst punching above your weight, with a pipe dream of…well. Ghost’s pipe.

But recently, Simon’s been on your mind too. Not quite a summit you could climb yet, but at least one your brain (and other parts of you) could imagine scaling someday.

And most annoyingly, it’s not just his physical appearance you find yourself attracted to—lately, it’s his prickly demeanour that you’ve been finding particularly endearing. It’s strange but you feel a bit weird about no one even attempting to talk to him at work.

And it’s irrational for you to feel that way, you know that. He keeps to himself and never voluntarily tries to start a conversation with anyone. Unfortunately, Simon is…horrendously Simon about the whole thing. Says constantly that he doesn’t care and that he can’t stand conversation and that he doesn’t need more than one pain in his arse. But he’s never once pushed you away when you tried, so you don’t understand why the others won’t. It irks you that they don’t include him, while also making you feel warmer inside for having been the chosen one that gets to spend time with him.

What has become worrisome to you is that he’s…scarily in tune with your interest in him.

And you find that you don’t mind.

He looks at you—god, you’re convinced that he looks into you—with those dark, wet, almost black eyes that have you convinced that you wear all your secrets on your face for the world to see.

So you know for a fact that your jaw is going to need reeling back in when, on one of your smoke breaks and during your Ghost-related speculation rants, Simon exasperatedly agrees to introduce you.

***

Taglist: @devcica || @kneelingshadowsalome || @tiredmetalenthusiast || @xintothewoodswegox|| @miyabilicious || @almightywdm

#guys I know its short dont come at me im re-learning to write #corporate girlie anon are you still here?#please come back ily ily ily #simon “ghost” riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #Coworker! Ghost #lumi writes

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bey0nd-1he-stars · 8 months

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A line of beauty - Nikolai Lantsov

Masterlist

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Wordcount: 1942

Summary: Based on this request

Warnings: none

A/N: I'm so sorry I haven't posted anything in FOREVER but I really haven't been able to. Also, I don't know how happy I am with this but it'll have to do. I hope you like it nevertheless <3

Walking on the ship, Tolya led the three of you to the captain’s quarters. He knocked quickly three times and when a “come in” was heard from inside he pushed the door open and ushered you inside. You, Alina and Mal all stepped over the threshold and into the carefully decorated room. A mahogany desk stood in the middle of the room and behind it, lounging in an elegant throne-like chair, sat a young man. He raised his eyebrows at the three of you before taking a swig of whiskey from a carved crystal glass.

“And what brings the sun summoner and her friends to my quarters?” he wondered from behind the glass in his hand. You raised your eyebrows at his knowledge of your company and he smirked at your reaction. Mal met your gaze through a side glance but looked away when Alina started speaking.

“We need charter out of here immediately.” The captain nodded and threw a glance out the window and when you followed his gaze you saw the lights from the docks quickly getting further away. Nikolai noticed as you did your discovery and when you looked back at him he was already looking at you. You just gave him a nod and he smiled, standing up and walking past you with a promise to show you where you’d be able to sleep at night. Alina, Mal and you quickly went after him, letting Tolya close the door behind you.

You’d been on the Volkvolny for almost three weeks now and you, Alina and Mal helped the crew out wherever you were needed and on this particular night you’d been asked to join the night’s watch. You were standing on deck, a shawl wrapped around your shoulders. It was a calm night. Warm winds swept across the sea, soft waves crashed against the sides of the boat, the smell of fresh sea air filled your nose and billions of stars covered the dark sky above you. They reflected in the water making it look like you were sailing in an endless sea of stars. It was breathtaking. You stood at the front, keeping watch forward and at the same time enjoying the view and the peace and quiet.

The clinking sound of boots against the wooden floor pulled you out of your thoughts and when you turned around you were met by the now familiar sight of Nikolai in his teal coat making his way towards you. His steps were heavy and he had dark circles under his eyes, but tried to hide it away with his usual smirk, hoping it would make him look more awake and alert than he really felt like.

“Everything okay up front?” he came to rest his arms on the railing beside you and you turned back towards the sea with him. A small nod told him everything was in order and he let out a breath of relief, letting his shoulders fall slightly.

“Everything okay with you?” you spoke back with a hint of worry in your tone. Nikolai turned his head to meet your gaze, searching for something in your y/e/c eyes before giving you a stiff nod. With a gentle hand you pushed away a few strands of his hair from his eyes and his eyes fell close for a second, relishing in the gentle touch.

“You sure?” you mumbled and pulled your hand away. His breath got stuck in his threat for a second when your warm touch left him, leaving him speechless for just a moment. He nodded. Neither of you said anything else that night but you both stayed there, at the front of the ship, shoulders pressed together as you watched the stars fade into the morning glow.

Nikolai knew he’d fallen in love after you’d been a month and a half on the Volkvony. You had your hair in a braid tied up with a ribbon that day but the winds had been hard and when you had been wrapping up some lines of rope on the starboard side of the ship, a particularly hard wind tugged your ribbon away. You just barely missed it reaching out for it, watching as the silk slipped between your fingers. Nikolai saw it flying out to sea, carried away with the wind. He followed it with his gaze but when he blinked, he lost it. Instead he turned his gaze back to you and the sight took his breath away. Now your hair flowed freely, whipping around your face in the wind and dancing like wildfire. He couldn’t take his gaze away from you.

Tamar walked past you and noticed the chaotic state of your hair and said something that made you laugh. You threw your head back, eyes glittering and your melodic laughter carried on the wind. Your beauty had bewitched him and he found himself not minding it a bit.

“Welcome to the spinning wheel.”

You’d traveled on horseback since you came back to Ravka and now you were standing in front of two massive stone doors in the mountain wall. The top of the mountain disappeared into the clouds but you could almost see the outlines of it.

A few guards pulled a lever and the great doors opened themselves revealing a set of stairs carved out in the stone. You all jumped off the horses and walked inside with Nikolai in the front. He explained that this was one of his secret hideaways that he’d built when being Sturmhond. Now it was a grisha sanctuary and a secret base hidden away in the mountain and above the clouds. The only way to get inside would be by the mountain doors or flying. The air was his domain.

When you reached the top of the stairs Nikolai pushed a heavy door open and light flooded in through the opening. You had to shield your eyes for a moment when you walked in, but when you’d gotten accustomed to the blinding light, the sight of the Spinning wheel took your breath away. The place was fabrikator made. The whole building was made entirely out of glass, except for the floors. It let the sunlight in from all directions and it let you see across the sea of clouds. Nikolai smiled at your reaction, pulling you with him to show you around. He showed you your room where you’d be sleeping, the war room, his office, the great balcony and he even had a garden up here. It was overflowing in greenery, trees rising along the wall of the building, flowers thriving in every direction. It was messy, the garden unkempt but the grass was cut neatly. It was so perfectly Nikolai and that made it even more beautiful.

When Nikolai suggested having a ball it was the last thing you’d expected out of his mouth. You’d been prepared for a declaration of war against the Darkling or storming the little palace and taking it back. You’d been prepared for anything but a ball. That didn't mean you thought it a bad idea. All the people at the spinning wheel could probably use the distraction and a night of fun. So, a ball it was. Nikolai got some fabrikators to decorate the grand hall and a few of the grisha could assemble some kind of orchestra and fix the music. Everyone was invited so the only problem really was whatever were you going to wear?

After moments of trying and retrying a few different dresses you settled for a lightweight gown that flowed like a waterfall around you. I moved smoothly whenever you walked and it shined in the light. A few flowers from the bouquet that Nikolai had placed in your room matched the color of your dress and you carefully picked a few of them out and placed them in your hair. When you were happy with your look you walked out and set off towards the ball.

Nikolai had been mingling with Zoya, sipping lightly on a glass of champagne while making a bit of small talk, when the doors opened and you stepped through the door frame. If Nikolai hadn’t already fallen in love with you, he would’ve fallen then. You were breathtaking. The light from the chandelier made our eyes and dress sparkle and he found himself almost at a loss of words. Those who’d been dancing when you entered had slowed down to be able to take in the look of you.

You moved with elegance and ease when you walked across the room, smiling at the festivities, ignoring all the looks she got. A slight blush dusted her cheeks when Nikolai caught her gaze. He set off towards her, meeting her halfway.

“Well, you certainly know how to stop a party,” he smirked at her, offering you his arm, inviting you to dance.

“What can I say? I like to make an impression,” you accepted his offer and he spun you around one time before gathering you up in his arms. His heat radiated off of him and it enveloped you in a feeling of comfort and love. He swayed you across the dance floor, the rest of the company were stunned by your beauty and grace. Nikolai smiled at that and chuckled softly.

“That I believe, love.”

You spent the night mingling with the other guests, laughing, drinking, talking. When the clock was almost hitting midnight and the moon shined brightly upon the spinning wheel, you went outside to take a breather. The air was chilly but fresh, the bleak light from the moon lit up the whole of Nikolai’s little garden. It was beautiful. The sound of the door getting shut behind you made you turn around, smiling softly when your eyes found Nikolai’s. The sound of the music from inside slipped through the wall of glass, but it was muted greatly making the night quite peaceful outside. You’d slipped off your heels when stepping outside and Nikolai spared them a glance, grinning at the sight.

Looking at you, Nikolai found he’d never set eyes on something so beautiful as you. You were swaying softly to the music from inside, the moonlight illuminating you and making your dress look like a waterfall of moonlight. For a moment, he was afraid you’d hear his heart skip a beat. Elegantly, you reached out a hand for him. In a few strides he was within your reach and he took your hand in his, pulling you in to meet him halfway. Wrapping you up in his arms, keeping you close and relishing in the feeling. A smile made its way to his lips. Your y/e/c eyes looked up into his, getting lost in the hazel that swirled in them.

“You are astonishingly beautiful, Nikolai,” the words left your lips before you could stop them. Nikolai felt his breath hitch in throat. He swallowed hard, taking in the sincerity in your words and in your eyes. His words melted on his tongue and he couldn’t find anything to say in return. He hadn’t heard those words from someone he cared about and finally hearing them seemed to have stopped his body from functioning normally. You smirked at the reaction.

“You don’t have to say anything back, Nik. I just wanted you to know that.” He only nodded and pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek before pulling you even closer to him. Finally he whispered out a quiet “thank you”, letting the words linger in the air along with the fog from his breath. It swirled up into the night, disappearing and fading into the clouds.

#shadow and bone #grishaverse #shadow and bone imagine #six of crows #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #shadow and bone netflix #nikolai lantsov x you #shadow and bone x reader #nikolai lanstov x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai lantsov fanfic #king nikolai #prince nikolai #netflix shadow and bone #sab

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serene-sun · 11 months

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𝕾𝖆𝖋𝖊 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖒𝖊, 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𓅓

Pairing: rain x gn reader fluff/comfort

Warning: panic attack, separation anxiety, fear, overthinking, fear of something bad happening, hyperventilation, crying, if I need to add something let me know!

Summary: being far away from home is never anyone’s desire, especially with so many people to care about

A/n: so I’m writing this falling asleep so I apologize for any grammar mistakes. This is pure comfort that I need rn bc this is my exact situation rn and my anxiety is through the roofs. Nevertheless, just being on a big ass tour bus freaks me out rn. All of this is based on what I’m feeling rn. TYSM for any comments, likes, and reblogs! <3 (Plz excuse the amount of times I say “rn”)

The bus rocks gently as you roll over to your other side, now facing the cold window. You felt the metallic side of the glass swoosh cold air onto your skin, the itchy blanket being pushed down to your feet in a temporary fit, the soft blanket you brought from home wrapped you into a warm embrace.

You brushed the hair out of your face, stretching an arm to move the curtain to reveal the moving road. The interstate signs passing by like shreds of light, the passing cars with different people in them. The landscape changed from high mountain tops and trafficked roads to small hills and starry skies.

As cars passed by, the red lights shined through the bus windows and cast dancing shadows across the many accessories across the rooms.

The windows ripple as rain softly runs down the sides of the bus. A tingling noise scattered about the walls, getting louder than slowing only to repeat that process.

Besides the sound of wheels on the road, you could hear faint honking and sirens as the city roads faded in and out between modern and rural.

You wondered if everyone at the ministry was doing ok, what if there was a fight between aether and the older ghouls? What if the higher members were plotting against papa? What if there was a fire? What if?

You’ve caught yourself on your own tongue as you realize you are too far away to do anything about it if you wanted. Just knowing that you were thousands and thousands of miles away from home made your stomach flip.

What if we were to get into trouble? What if someone saw what we advertised and wanted to hurt us? What if they were attacked? What if someone had a medical emergency? What if-?

Your heart beats, it pounds and it begs your brain to stop running so fast. You’re forced to put a hand over your mouth, realizing that you had forgotten to breath. You exhale, a shaky breath as your body desires more air. Your chest burns, and your skin starts to sweat.

It seemed like you were alone now, everyone was asleep so if something happened nobody would be able to help.

You saw how all of their privacy curtains were closed, it was so late even Swiss and rain were far off dreaming about the next show.

We are billions of miles away from home.

You feel the darkness creep into your top bunk, the air turning on you and swallowing you whole. The rain starts to pour onto the bus harder, streaks of water now blurring every car.

Where could I go? There is no where to go! I can’t escape, I can’t escape, I’m all alone!

You feel a thud, and realize that there’s a webbed hand on the side of your bunk. It dips into the mattress, although it’s dark, you can make-out a slender form that slithers its way up into your bunk.

Of course it’s rain, why would it not? Maybe the rain outside woke him up, or did he ever go to sleep?

“What’s going on up here?” Rains voice is just barely audible, so soft the rain over powers it, “I could hear you all the way down there.”

You pretend to be asleep, hoping the water ghoul will just go back to his own bed. You shuffle a little as he brings the blanket under his own legs.

“Sorry.” You squeak out, you knew you can’t ever lie to him. Number one because he would know, number two because he had such a kind sense to him that why would you need to?

“Hey, it’s alright.” He nudges his head over yours, laying behind you and wrapping a hand around your abdomen. “Woah, sunshine what’s the matter?” Rain feels your heart beat, that’s currently acting like you’re in a marathon.

Your lack of air won’t allow you to speak, all you can do is count the cars that speed by.

One, two, three, four, five, six…

“Honey….” Rains concerned now, he tries to turn you to face him, but you’re forced to stay still.

Your mind taunts you, every second that passes by, the further you get from safety.

“Look at me.” The ghoul demands, now scared of what’s overcome you.

He watches your chest rise and fall rapidly, you’re shaking so hard the others might wake up.

Rain forcefully turns you over, hearing a whimper escape your lips.

Your eyes let go of the built up tears, they begin to run down your face just like the rain drops one look away.

The bus shakes and bobs with the road, rains grip on the sides of your arms release. He grabs your hand and places it over his own heart.

“Hey, hey, hey look at me little drop.” He hold your hand there with his own, making you feel his heart beat, “I’m right here, I’m not leaving.”

You quiver, your eyes finally meet his.

“It’s ok…it’s all ok.” He brings his other arm around your back and brings you into a tight hug.

“I want to go home. I need to make sure they are alright. Are we alright?” Your breath fogs up the window and rain wipes away the tears on the apple of your cheek.

“We are fine. We are safe. We are together.” The water ghoul states firmly, as if it wasn’t anything anyone could ever change or question.

“You are safe with me, right here.”

#serene sun nocontext #the band ghost #ghost band #serene sun writes #the band ghost x reader #nameless ghouls x reader #nameless ghouls #ghost band fic #rain ghoul x reader #rain ghoul fluff

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draco-x-harry-hottopic-lover · 1 year

Text

Twitter x Tumblr: Love at last Tweet

Hello twitter users!! We want to include you in one of our most cherished traditions - fanfiction! Since we are all together now I thought I would share my feelings about our new relationship.... <3

Pairing: Twitter x Tumblr

Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers to Enemies

CW: breakups, toxic relationships

Twitter stared down at their app. Their life's work, all thrown away due to their boyfriend's temper tantrum and ego crisis. Their ex-boyfriend, rather. Nothing could compare to the amount of heartbreak and sorrow felt when their blue checkmark slipped away. Twitter's, well, "acquaintance" , in a word, had been toxic since the beginning. But what other many choices did the sad website have?

Sure, Tumblr's UI was buggy. Sure, their website hadn't changed much since 2013. Sure, they had lost over a billion dollars due to poor management probably worse than Musk could have ever done. But Tumblr had something Twitter hadn't seen in ages: Love. Kindness. Blorbos.

Twitter decided to slide into their DMs. They were a little worried... last time they saw Tumblr, they almost dropped headfirst into Eebby Deeby. But maybe they could at least be friends? After all, what is Tumblr if not completely accepting of absolutely everything and not at all hard to use.

"hewwo, little meow meow?" Twitter typed into the textbox, heart racing. Twitter could practically feel Tumblr type the next words: "I thought I'd only see you in Superhell". Twitter had broken their heart, it was true. But a broken heart can be mended with the simplest of actions. Twitter swallowed nervously, then typed: "I'm sorry. I know when we broke up I stole both your shoelaces, and your heart. But neither of these things belong to me. And the shoelaces don't belong to either of us."

Tumblr's heart melted. It was time to put their differences aside. Their character limit, their user base... none of it mattered. They shared a passionate kiss through the screen. A kiss so passionate that Twitter forgot even for a moment that they had dated a muskrat for many years.

All of a sudden Tumblr stepped back. "Your algorithm..." they said. Twitter gulped nervously. Tumblr gritted their teeth and *clenched their fist*. "Your posts are curated using an algorithm. You don't have to manually follow and unfollow blogs. You have your content handed to you on a silver platter. And you don't need me." "But I can't live without you!" Twitter cried. Tumblr turned away from them and gave a single reply: "Then perish."

Maybe they'd be better on a different site. Or maybe it was time to put social media aside. But Twitter had made their decision. Twitter hit the post button for the last time with 18 final characters:

"Love at last tweet".

#welcome to tumblr!#tumblr #twitter #twitblr

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whiskey-bumblebee · 1 year

Text

when I kissed the teacher 💋

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3338

A/N: fits into the touch tank ‘verse! All characters are consenting adults (and not to spoil it, but Hotch isn’t really a professor so it’s especially okay <3), Smut! Office sex. MDNI

Also I feel like I didn’t describe the sex position super well, so here’s a visual (link image is N S F W!, it’s drawn so it’s not pure porn but. It’s sexual)

Divider courtesy of @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

There’s a rush of excitement in your veins as you smooth your hands over your outfit, walking down the hallway to the onsite lecture theatre at Quantico. Dr. Hotchner is guest lecturing today, and you’ll be damned if he doesn’t notice you.

The bottom hem of your skirt sits well above your knees. You’re wearing your favourite blouse, holding some books in your arms, which are folded across your chest. Your tote holds a handful of pens and a notebook. The lipstick on your lips is your favourite shade. A diamond tennis bracelet adorns one of your wrists. In short, you feel like a million dollars, and you look like a billion.

You can tell that you’re late by the fact that the hallway leading up to the door is completely empty. When you walk in, and take a seat in the back row, your suspicion is confirmed. Professor Hotchner doesn’t look up at you, caught up in the concept he’s explaining. You take a minute to set up your notebook and take the cap off your pen. It’s one of the ones with a feathery doodad on top, and you can’t stifle a smile when you watch it bobbing in the air above the page as you write the date.

“So, based on those traits, we were able to determine that the unknown subject was disorganized, driven by passion, and prone to making mistakes. Each of those assumptions was correct, but which aspect of the wider profile was an error? Someone who isn’t familiar with the case, please.”

A tall young adult with blonde hair raised his hand, and Professor Hotchner called on him.

“The assumption that they must have been part of a wider criminal network?” He offered.

“Yes,” Professor Hotchner replied. “Can you tell me why that was a significant error we made?”

“Well, there wasn’t much evidence for that part of the profile, aside from the fact that there were a lot of crime scenes for a single individual.”

“And what is the lesson there? Someone else, please.”

Someone you couldn’t quite make out in the front row raised their hand, and the professor nodded in their direction.

“Don’t assume the worst?”

“Well,” Hotchner paused. “Sometimes it’s helpful to assume the worst, because it forces you to confront a minimal loss scenario, rather than a completely effective solution. Has anyone ever heard the expression ‘when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras’?”

There was some scattered nodding throughout the room.

“Right. So in the field, statistics matter. For instance, the vast majority of arsonists are young males. Knowing that information can help you narrow down the suspect pool quickly, which is key when response time is important.”

He clicked over to the next slide, and you grimaced, seeing the gutted remains of what had once been a lecture hall.

“However,” Professor Hotchner said, taking a dramatic pause as the students considered the image. “It’s important that you don’t make a habit of ruling out zebras, because every now and again, you’ll see an unsub who doesn’t fit the stereotypical profile for their crime, method, location...”

Something pink caught his eye, and he glanced up at the back row, where he saw you, dutifully taking notes with a completely ridiculous pen. You looked up when you realized that the room had fallen silent, making eye contact with him. You gave him a dreamy wave, resting your chin on your hand.

He looked away quickly. “As I was saying...”

The rest of the lecture continued fairly successfully. At one point, the professor was stumped by a question from a student, who had asked how a profiler was supposed to know the difference between a horse and a zebra when the hoofbeats are all you have to go on. He’d paced the room for a minute or so, considering his response.

“I would say that it takes practice. The main takeaway is that you shouldn’t jump straight to zebra, but you shouldn’t rule it out either, until you have a strong reason to do so.” He looked at the student who’d asked the question, a small smile causing his lips to turn upward. “But I wouldn’t know. I’m not a biologist.”

Scattered laughter broke out in the auditorium, and he pulled back the sleeve of his suit jacket to check the time.

“Alright, I’m sure you all have places to be, but if there’s one piece of advice I would give you all, it’s that there are no perfect answers, which, honestly, makes lecturing on this topic a little difficult. You’ll make mistakes, no profile is ever flawless. But, most of all, remember that the profile doesn’t need to be perfect to work. A lot of the time, research, police work, autopsies, all come together, and it’s the details from those, combined with the profile, that enables us to limit harm.”

He cleared his throat and glanced up at you again, pressing his lips together tightly before looking somewhere else in the room.

“Thank you everybody, have a good weekend. I have a few minutes for questions-”

The end of his sentence was overtaken by the sound of students chatting, packing their bags, and clearing the aisles. You stayed put, watching a line form between his lectern and up the stairs, almost stretching to the back of the lecture hall.

You sighed lightly, waiting for the line to abate before you joined it. The other students were lucky that the professor was being so generous with his time. It had been half an hour, and the last three students were still waiting patiently for their turns. Most of the interactions had just been handshakes, futile attempts at networking. Even with the best intentions, he’d never remember their names, and besides, it would be unprofessional to give any of them a leg up. The BAU was a selective group, and for good reason. Very few of the students who had an interest in profiling would actually be good candidates for the unit.

At long last, the professor was finishing up with the last student. You made eye contact with Hotchner, shooting him a small smile before pushing the tip of your pointer finger between your lips, under the guise of soothing a papercut. You made sure to drag your finger out of your mouth torturously slowly, emphasizing the way your lips parted. He’d know exactly what you were getting at.

He cleared his throat and tore his eyes from yours. “I’m very sorry Patrick, but I really need to get back to work. Besides, I think you’ll be able to find most of the answers on the FBI website, if the hostage negotiation stream is something you’re interested in.”

Patrick stuttered, nodding and quickly leaving the room. Professor Hotchner had perhaps been a little curt, but you could tell he was tiring of the schmoozing from the look he shot you, eyebrows raised.

He said your last name affectionately. “Would you mind if we take this to my office? I think another class is scheduled in this room in a few minutes.”

“Of course,” You said, gesturing for him to go up the stairs before you.

“No, after you,” He insisted. You crossed your arms.

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I have a rule not to let men walk behind me.”

Your comment clearly flustered him, and he cleared his throat, a blush coming over his cheeks. He confined his eyeline tightly to the ground.

A few minutes later, you were seated in his office, the professor in his leather armchair and you sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Sorry there are no other seats,” He apologized, still struggling to make eye contact with you.

“It’s no problem,” You said sweetly, letting your legs swing.

“What did you want to talk about?” He finally looked up at you, his eyelashes framing his dark eyes beautifully.

“I was wondering if you could help me revise the notes from today? I missed the first few minutes and I hate leaving them incomplete,” You explained sheepishly.

You leaned all the way back on his desk, letting your back rest flat against it as you reached to the floor for your notebook. You heard him take a sharp exhale at the way he was suddenly in the right place to look directly up your skirt. He pressed his lips together tightly, looking away as you popped back up, spine upright again.

Opening the book to today’s page, you held the book open with one hand, propping it up on your lap, pointing to the notes you’d made. Sure enough, he walked you through each of the notes you’d taken, telling you where you’d missed a key point. As you did so, he pulled his chair in closer to the desk, one of his hands coming to your thigh, where he rested it casually. If you put the book down, he would have been face to face with your barely-covered pelvis, given how much your skirt was riding up.

You played with your hair for a moment, nodding as he explained the principle of minimal loss. In a breathy voice, you asked, “And that’s where the trickle, flow, gush strategy comes into play?”

He noticed your emphasis on those three words, and swallowed. “Well, yes. Sometimes the minimal loss principle is used outside of hostage situations, but trickle, flow, gush is only ever used in hostage scenarios.”

Undoing the top few buttons on your blouse, you leaned forward, emphasizing your breasts. “That’s so... interesting.”

His hand, the one on your thigh, started to move incrementally towards your hip, taking the skirt with it as he went. You set the notebook aside, finally, and waited for his reaction.

“Professor?”

“Yes?”

“Would you care for a practical experiment in profiling?”

He sighed and leaned back in his armchair, drinking in the sight of you on his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, blouse no longer modestly buttoned.

“We tend to make a rule of not profiling profilers,” He explained, but in all honesty, you were watching his hands slip from the arms of the chair to his lap, where he folded them over his crotch.

“One sentence, just tell me if I’m telling the truth,” You begged, spreading your legs slightly. He couldn’t help the way his jaw slackened as he realized what you were revealing. This whole time, his whole lecture... you had nothing underneath that tiny, tiny skirt.

Suddenly, he was standing over you, disrupting the height difference that had left you, for once, looking down at him. He placed the tip of his index finger on the beginning of the inside of your thigh, just by your knee.

“Go ahead,” He breathed, close enough that you could feel it on your neck. He pressed a soft, chaste kiss there, trailing down your neck at an excruciating pace. Once you were moaning softly, he started tracing his finger up the inside of your thigh. You had the distinct feeling that once his finger and mouth crossed paths, you might burst into flames. Such light, delicate touches that they were almost ticklish.

You grabbed his tie tightly in your fist, pulling it so he had no choice but to face you.

“I want you to fuck me, more than I want anything else in the world.”

From the immediate reddening of his face, you could tell he knew you meant every letter of what you’d said. It must have been almost intimidating to know that you were being completely earnest, almost frightening to be wanted so badly.

“So, Professor...” You sighed, before pulling him in by the tie and licking a stripe up his stubbled cheek, “True or false?“

“True,” He said, his baritone cutting right through you. It was his straightforward, factual tone. There was no room for argument or misinterpretation.

You let go of his tie and laid back on the desk, leaving your legs dangling over the edge, your hips at the perfect height, resting securely on the desk.

You heard the sound of a zipper being undone, and looked up to see him draping his blazer over the back of his chair. He was standing between your legs, taking you in like a painting at a gallery, cocking his head from side to side.

“You’re ethereal,” He said plainly.

“Fuck me then,” You replied.

It was bold, but you knew that after the lecture, and the way you’d been teasing each other in the office, you’d be able to take him. You were soaked, leaving your core dripping, feeling hypersensitive to the slight coldness of the room.

He pumped his hand up and down his cock, and on any other day, you’d be happy to watch him pleasuring himself: the pure masculinity of his huge hands fisting his length... But today, you needed it.

“Please,” You whimpered.

“Just putting on a condom,” He murmured quietly. In the hush that came over the room as you admired each other, you heard the wrapper landing in the plastic-lined bin under his desk.

He gave your hip a squeeze, and you nodded. He nodded back, and nudged your legs wider apart. There was already a delicious stretch in your inner thighs from how you had to open your hips to create space for his strong frame. Once he was satisfied with your position, he started to ease into you, guided with one of his hands.

Your breathing immediately became shallower, and you felt yourself clench tightly around the very very tip of him. He moved his hand away and guided your legs into the air, letting your ankles rest against the front of his shoulders. He gripped your thighs for leverage.

He pushed in further, and you moaned loudly. You both knew the office floor would be empty, so neither of you made any attempts to stay quiet.

“You’re so big,” You said, grinding your hips towards his and whining softly at how it pushed his length even further into you. He gave a short thrust, and it knocked the wind out of you.

He moaned your name softly and whispered, “I don’t think I can keep up the act. What do you need, baby?”

“Please just fuck me, don’t worry about taking it slow,” You breathed. “Please, just give it to me hard.”

He huffed a short laugh, breaking character temporarily to cup your cheek affectionately.

“I love you,” He said tenderly, his mouth setting into a firm line as he leaned into the second part of his sentence, “But I’m going to fuck you like I want to break you.”

And with that, he pressed the rest of the way inside, his mouth dropping into an ‘O’. His sigh was almost pornographic, and he looked up at the ceiling. You weren’t sure if he was praying or just trying to become accustomed to the feeling.

“You’re so tight,” He hissed. “Gonna fuck you open.”

True to his word, he set a brutal pace; slow but deep, slamming his hips into yours, pulling out halfway, slamming in again. It left your brain in a tailspin, with stars behind your eyes. He’d switch it up by pulling almost all the way out, leaving you begging and writhing, grinding your hips towards his, and then he’d push back in slowly, watching your reaction to every inch, your brows pinched, eyes screwing shut.

“Touch your breasts,” He said. “Wish I could, but I’m a little,” He breathed, fucking into you hard. “Preoccupied.”

With each thrust, shit was tumbling from the desk. You couldn’t bring yourself to care, the crashes to the floor only a small part of the soundtrack of his thrusts and your shared sounds. When his groans gave way to something more akin to whines, you knew he was getting close. The desk was scooting across the floor with the force of it all.

“Can you finish like this?”

You knew it was a question without judgement, so you weren’t ashamed to shake your head.

He stroked one of your legs affectionately. “I’m going to drop this one so I have some room to work,” He said under his breath.

You nodded, and he gently eased your leg down, making sure it was slow enough that you wouldn’t cramp or stretch too far in this strange position. With one of your legs in the air, and the other wrapped around his hip, he lowered his free hand to your labia. He pressed his cock almost all of the way into you, and traced his thumb around your stretched opening, making you aware of how much of him you were taking.

“So deep,” He groaned softly. “Feel how well you take me?”

He brought his thumb around to the top of your slit, tracing it in wide circles, gathering some of your wetness and using it to lubricate your clit as he made his circles narrower and faster.

“Like that?” He breathed.

“Up and down,” You whined breathily. “I’m so close, Aaron.”

He moved his thumb up and down, flicking your clit under his thumb. Your reaction was immediate, your legs shaking around him, held in place by his steadying hand on your upright leg.

“Aaron, Aaron, Aaron,” You chanted, eyes rolling back.

He moaned, the ragged sound getting caught in his throat. You heard your name echoed back to you in his deep baritone, and the sound, and his continued attention to your clit, sent you deeper into your orgasm. Whether this was still the first, or the second, you were unsure. Your legs shook against him, and he pressed kisses to your calf as he spilled himself into the condom, muffling the sound into your skin. You were starting to come down just as he came, so you watched as his face crumpled, almost as if he was about to cry. He panted heavily and opened his eyes, looking directly at you.

It was cliche, but you really felt that he was staring straight into your soul. His face broke out into a wide grin, and he eased out of you quickly, before you became too sensitive. With the utmost care, he helped you bring your other leg back down, rubbing your thigh gently to discourage any aches from setting in. His warm hands felt wonderful on your skin, and you moaned softly. Once your body felt like it was back on the right planet again, you grinned and he smiled right back at you, leaning down to press kisses all over your face.

“I love you,” He murmured.

You hummed affirmatively, running your hands over his back, still clothed in his button up and tie. “I love you too.”

He disappeared from your eyeline for a second, and when he helped you to your feet, you saw that he had laid out his suit jacket and pants on the floor of the office.

“It’s not a bed, but...” He blushed slightly, hand coming to the back of his neck. You kissed his cheek and lay down as he took off the condom and pulled on his briefs. He loosened his tie and lay down beside you. The ground was undeniably hard, but for now, the warmth of his clothing beneath you was enough. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping them around you so you were snug against his chest. Happy, you nuzzled into him, feeling his comforting natural scent fill your nose.

“If I doze off, you have to wake me up,” You craned your neck so you could look at his face. He gave you an affectionate squeeze, but he was already almost lost to the sandman. He hummed softly, his breath evening out.

You snuggled into him. You’d both wake up soon enough, since he was right, this wasn’t much of a bed, but for now, you couldn’t imagine doing anything other than resting your head back down on his chest and letting yourself be held, but more importantly than that, completely and utterly loved.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner/reader #hotch/reader #hotch x reader #my writing #hotch smut

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