#Average Sensor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mggslover · 7 months ago

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Stuck

In which reader finds herself stuck in an elevator with her colleagues.

Pairing: Hotch x Reid x Morgan x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: smut (18+) Content warnings: fingering, oral (f and m receiving), face riding, p in v sex, overstimulation, masturbation, breast play Word count: 5,4k A/n: I'm ovulating, so you know what time it is 🤭 I'm really nervous to post this, so I hope you will enjoy!

“Oh, you guys are such babies!” You laugh as Spencer and Derek refuse to step into the elevator, explaining how they’ve been stuck in one before.

“It’s not funny, Y/N,” Spencer chimes in. “There are six elevator deaths per year. Not to mention ten thousand injuries that require hospitalization.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, just as Hotch walks toward the elevator. “See!” You exclaim. “Hotch is joining us, and he saved you last time. We’ll be fine.” You add cheerfully.

“You’re coming?” Hotch asks, holding the elevator door open. You nod, pulling Morgan and Reid with you by their arms.

You chuckle at their nervous reflections in the mirror as the elevator starts moving. A sudden creak causes Derek to snap his head towards you. “It made the same sound the last time!” You were just about to shut Derek up as the elevator shakes and the lights start flickering.

“Not again!” Spencer whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut like he’s about to fall to his death at any given moment.

Hotch inspects the tight space, his expression grim. “It seems like the electricity went out…”

“Actually, there are a lot of reasons why an elevator might stop,” Spencer interjects. “It could be worn-out suspension ropes, and it actually happens quite regularly that the motor overheats the safety sensors of the-“

“Let’s just solve this problem, shall we?” You cut him off, nudging Morgan out of the way to hit the red button on the panel.

“You think that’ll do something?” Morgan asks, brow lifted.

“It will alert someone that we’re stuck. We have to wait until somebody comes and gets us out of here.” Hotch adds.

“Well at least I’ll be missing my meeting with Strauss,” I sigh in relief.

“It was at twelve, right?” Spencer asks.

“Yeah,” you respond with a nod.

“Statistically the average wait time to be rescued from an elevator is less than an hour,” Spencer continues, checking his watch. “That means you could still make it in time.”

“Now that’s just what I wanted to hear,” you say sarcastically, earning a grin from Morgan.

“We can only hope we won’t be in here for that long,” Hotch mutters, his impatience visible as he leans uncomfortably against the elevator doors.

“Okay… so now what? Want to go over a case to pass the time?”

“No, no cases please,” Morgan groans. “We’ve had three in a row. I’m done.”

“Morgan is right. We’ve done enough cases in the past few days.” Hotch agrees.

You mutter an “alright” as you sit down with your back against the elevator wall, smoothing out the crinkles in your skirt. The others look at you with uncertainty. Eventually Reid decides to sit next to you, exchanging a soft smile. Morgan follows suit, sitting in front of you. Hotch remains standing. You leave him be and turn to Spencer.

“So Reid, I’m sure you’ve got enough interesting facts to pass the time.”

Spencer looks surprised by the request, not used to directly being asked to share his facts, but his eyes quickly brighten, eager to share. “Well, actually, there are a lot of interesting things to say about elevators. There are approximately 20 million elevators worldwide,” you chuckle at his obvious enthusiasm. “The first elevator was created in 236 B.C. by Archimedes, a Greek mathematician. He used a water wheel and tied animals together with rope to create a lift mechanism.” You hum in interest. “They used lifts in the Colosseum, right?”

“Yes! Exactly!” he responds excitedly. “The system was powered by eight men who would turn this massive wooden shaft connected to ropes. It could hold more than 600 pounds!”

“Oh come on,” Derek says, his hand falling to his knee. “You’re telling me you’re actually interested in the mechanics of ancient elevators?”.

Hotch glances at Morgan, silently agreeing with Derek’s skepticism.

“Derek Morgan…” you feign offense, placing a hand on your chest. “Don’t act like I’m not curious about knowledge. At least Spence’s got something interesting to say.”

Spencer blushes faintly, appreciating your defense.

“Hey, I know facts too,” Morgan says smugly. “How about there being 7000 languages in the world today.”

“The overall number is actually closer to 8000,” Spencer corrects him. “You only counted verbal communication.”

“You guys are going to have a facts competition now?” You ask, bewildered. “It’s way too hot in here. I need some light conversation.”

“I agree,” Hotch mutters. “It is getting a little warm.”

You glance up at the AC in the corner of the elevator, which is clearly not working. It probably shut down along with the power. There’s a brief silence before Reid speaks up again.

“I never thought I’d be trapped in an elevator with my colleagues,” he muses. “It’s a little cliché.”

“Cliche, how?” Hotch asks, intrigued despite himself.

“You know how, in movies, a group of people get stuck in an elevator and they have to learn to overcome their differences to escape?”

You shake your head in confusion, “I think I only know the dirty movies where they get stuck in an elevator,” you laugh.

Spencer blinks at you, clearly thrown off. Derek chuckles at the scene, and even Hotch manages a faint smile.

“I should’ve known you’ve only watched the dirty ones,” Derek teases.

“What about you, pretty boy? Ever seen a dirty movie?” He asks Spencer, grinning.

Reid looks flustered. “I grew up in Vegas… I’ve seen some things.”

“Ah, Vegas,” you say, sighing dreamily. “The place where you can’t drive for a minute without seeing a giant porn billboard.”

Morgan grins, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “Sounds like my kind of place.”

You laugh and kick his leg playfully. Morgan winks at you, enjoying the lighthearted banter. You glance up at Hotch, who is still the only one standing.

“What about you, Hotch? What’s your favorite dirty movie?” You ask with a mischievous grin, but your expression quickly drops when you see his stern look.

“Watch it, Y/L/N.” Hotch warns.

“Come on, Hotch,” Derek says. “Let loose a little!”

“See it as the universe’s sign.” I press on.

“How is being stuck in here a sign of the universe?” Hotch asks, brows raised.

“Well, no way would you willingly take a break yourself. Now the universe got you stuck in here and is forcing you to relax,” you explain, with a playful gleam in your eyes.

To everyone’s surprise, he slowly lowers himself to the floor, sitting down next to you.

You exchange surprised looks with Derek and Spencer. All amazed at how you managed to get Hotch to sit down.

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence, scared to say something that will make Hotch change his mind. You’re glad he joined you, but it’s hard to ignore the rising temperature now that another person is sitting in close proximity to you.

“How long has it been?” you ask, fanning yourself with your blazer. “I’m starting to sweat.”

“Thirty-five minutes so far,” Derek replies, following your lead and fanning himself.

Hotch looks mildly uncomfortable, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Spencer, however, looks the most miserable using the collar of his sweater vest to wipe his face.

“You guys should take your jackets off,” you suggest, eyeing Morgan and Hotch.

You don’t need to tell Derek twice, as he removes his jacket, revealing a black short sleeved shirt that looks a lot more comfortable. Hotch looks reluctant to do the same, but eventually gives in, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt collar. You take a peak as he reveals his broad, muscled shoulders for a moment, before readjusting his shirt. Hotch notices your glance and his eyes shoot up to yours, catching you in the moment as your cheeks flush. You quickly look away.

“Oh, she’s enjoying the view, alright,” Derek smirks and you give him a warning glance.

“Shut up. I was just surprised Hotch would give in.”

Morgan grins and nudges Hotch with his elbow, “Look at that, Hotch. You’re surprising us all today. First you smile and now you’re taking your jacket off. What’s next, dancing a jig?” You and Spencer snort at his comment. Hotch rolls his eyes at Morgan’s teasing but can’t help a small smile from appearing on his lips.

Spencer struggles with his vest and you give him a hand. “Here, let me help you”, you say as you scoot closer, pulling the vest over his head. The fabric feels soft, but incredibly warm in your hands. You don’t know how he managed to keep it on for this long. Reid is taken aback for a moment, but mutters a soft thanks. Morgan and Hotch watch the exchange with interest, clearly amused at the sight of you being so forward with Reid.

“Now it’s your turn, you’re the one who insisted,” Morgan states, and you can’t help but agree as you take your blazer off, giving a satisfied hum at the immediate relief.

“I’ll open up some buttons too, if you don’t mind,” you announce as your fingers start working on your blouse. You don’t give them a chance to respond, since it seems only fair. Their eyes widen at your gesture, all of them staring at the sight of your blouse slightly opening up. Morgan lets out a low whistle, “Now that’s a nice view.”

“You’re insufferable,” you scoff as you stop unbuttoning, showing just a hint of your lacy bra. Morgan’s eyes linger on the sight, clearly enjoying the view. Hotch and Reid look like they’re struggling to keep their cool. Reid is the most flustered of all, turning bright red as he focuses on his hands. Morgan glances around at the others, seeing them struggle to keep themselves composed.

He chuckles and shakes his head, enjoying the effect you’re having on them. “You know, you’re driving all of us a little crazy here, sweetheart.”

You let out a small huff, “Give me a break. You’re wearing shortsleeves, I’m the one wearing a blouse.”

Hotch speaks up, his gaze lingering on your blouse. “That blouse does seem a bit warm.”

“Thank you!” You say, glad someone is on your side.

Hotch eyes stay focused on you though, or specifically the bit of exposed collarbone and the lace that’s hugged around the swell of your breast. Your breathing heaves when you find Spencer taking occasional peaks as well, watching with a mixture of awe and embarrassment, finding difficulty in looking away.

“Let’s just all take our shirts off, I want it to be fair”, you quickly exclaim, done with the heavy tension that’s driving you crazy. Hotch and Morgan exchange amused glances as Spencer eyes turn big, taking in your proposal.

“All our shirts, are you sure about that?” Derek asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“Then at least you won’t eye me like that.”

“Oh, I think I’ll eye you only more.” Derek teases, licking his lips.

“Just take your damn shirt off.”

Derek chuckles and raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, alright. No need to get feisty.” He says as he lifts his shirt off in a smooth motion. It’s a known fact that Derek is jacked, but seeing him in a setting like this, abs glistening with sweat and pupils still dilated from looking at you, is on a whole ‘nother level.

You’re glad the attention is taken away from your peering eyes as Hotch follows suit, unbuttoning his shirt, revealing a clearly defined muscular chest with just a hint of hair. You start doubting your suggestion as it feels like the room is only growing hotter. You look over at Spencer, seeing whether he’ll be the next. Spencer hesitates for a moment, his eyes darting between the other’s bare chests and your unbuttoned blouse. His chest heaving with his breath, suggesting that he’s more affected than he’s letting on.

“Come on, pretty boy. Join the party.” Derek says.

“I’ll go first,” you assure Spencer, not wanting him to suffer under peer pressure. Your hands start working on the buttons. Spencer’s eyes widened at the scene in front of him.

“See, it’s not that hard,” you reassure Spencer, folding your blouse and placing it next to you.

“I don’t know about that. You’re making things pretty hard, baby girl.” Morgan comments, making you laugh.

“You’re way too dirty for your own good.”

Morgan grins. “Can you blame me? I mean, look at you. You’re looking mighty tempting right now.”

You softly smile at the compliment and focus back on Spencer. “You’ll feel a lot cooler, I promise,” you encourage.

“I don’t know. I’m not as… toned as the others.” It hurts you to hear how he’s comparing himself to his colleagues.

“Do you truly think I care about that?” You ask him. “It’s not a competition. I just want you to feel comfortable,” you speak genuinely. Spencer looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any signs of mockery or deception. When he finds none, his face softens and he nods. He lifts his shirt over his head, revealing a body no less impressive than the others.

“Not too bad, pretty boy. You’re looking pretty good without that vest on.” Derek compliments.

“You do,” You agree, as you fold his shirt and place it on top of my blouse. Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, grateful for your help. Glad he decided to take his shirt off as he felt the cool air hit his chest, “Yeah, that does feel better.”

You look around the room, the scene for sure one to be put down in the history books of the BAU. “I think it’s safe to say we’ve entered a new step in our colleague bonding,” you awkwardly chuckle, trying to lighten the mood but the air feels charged with an unspoken tension that’s impossible to ignore. You can feel their eyes on you, the way they linger, the weight of their gazes following your every movement. You try to ignore it, to stay professional, but your body betrays you. You shift slightly, adjusting your skirt, and that’s when you feel it - the subtle brush of Hotch’s fingers caressing your arm.

You swallow hard as you look away. The air around you is suddenly too tight. You want to curse your body as your nipples harden under his steady gaze, there being no way to blame it on the cold. Derek notices the exchange and leans in, the heat between you two palpable.

His voice is low and husky, “You're all worked up, sweetheart. Don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

Your pulse quickens, the sound of your heartbeat almost drowning out his words. “I’m not the only one,” you counter, voice quieter, but the challenge in it is unmistakable. You feel Spencer shift next to you, his body tense as he feels like he’s been caught staring at your chest. “Don’t be shy, genius,” Derek teases. “We’re all thinking the same thing right now.” You can’t help but smile at Spencer’s flustered look. “It’s… It’s hard not to, when you-” He cuts himself off, his voice faltering as his eyes dart away from your breasts.

Hotch is still standing by the door, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches the dynamic play out. “We’ve been stuck in here long enough. I think it’s safe to say we all want and feel the same thing.” The air thickens with desire as he dares to say the thought that’s been occupying everyone’s mind. You glance at the others, seeing how Spencer is adjusting himself in his pants and the way Derek is watching you, his gaze so intense it almost feels like he’s touching you.

“Guess it’s only fair if we all just… give in to it,” you murmur, your eyes flicking between them. The suggestion is there, unspoken but understood.

From there on everything feels like a blur. You hear Hotch growl behind you as he wraps his bicep around your neck, pulling you in as his lips crash against yours. You whimper against his mouth, which gives him the opportunity to let his tongue slide in. You welcome his tongue with yours as your hand moves to squeeze the arm around your neck, making full use of the circumstances to feel up on his muscles.

“You’re always driving me crazy when wearing this skirt,” Hotch groans in your ear as his teeth pull on your earlobe. You can find no other way to respond than let out a high pitched sound of enjoyment as his free hand kneads your ass through your pencil skirt. Spencer watches the scene unfold in front of him. How his boss roughly grabs and kisses you, manhandling you.

“I- I don’t know about this…” Spencer stammers.

Morgan turns to him, breaking the intense gaze he had on you and Hotch. “Don’t worry Reid, she’s enjoying it.”

“Are you sure?” Spencer asks, uncertainty in his voice as Hotch is pulling on your hair, giving him access to plant kisses and bites on your neck.

Morgan grins, “Let me show you how sure I am,” he says as he steps towards you and Hotch. He rolls your skirt up to your stomach and lets his fingers slide over your panties, cursing when it easily slips between your folds, creating a wet sound. You moan at the friction, not in the state to feel embarrassed by how wet you are.

“See Reid, she loves it,” Derek points out, licking his lips as he pulls your damp panties to the side. Spencer lets out a groan as Derek reveals your glistening pussy, his hand subconsciously squeezing the bulge in his pants for any form of release.

“Let me see,” Hotch insists, removing his lips from your neck. Derek slides a finger through your folds and proudly displays the stickiness to Hotch.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you?,” Hotch whispers, his nose pressed against the side of your face. “Just been begging to get in a situation like this so we could all fuck you the way you deserve.” You whimper at his dirty words and hot breath on your skin. Your legs feel like jelly as he grinds himself against your ass. Derek continues to apply pressure with his hand as he lets his fingers rub up and down your lips and clit.

Spencer’s eyes are burning holes in your chest. He just can’t understand how no one has touched your lovely tits, while they’ve been teasing him the entire time.

“You can come here Spence,” you purr, hypnotizing him to walk towards you. He swallows as he’s close enough to touch you, close enough to hear all the little sounds you’re making as you’re being touched all over.

“Can I-?” You don’t let Spencer finish his question as you quickly nod, throwing your head back as his finger grazes over your nipple, sending a direct spark of pleasure to your clit.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers mostly to himself in awe as he cups your breast, the shape fitting perfectly in his large hand.

“Thank you,” you whisper back. It’s ironic how his sweet compliment is the thing that's making you shy.

Derek slips a finger inside of you with ease, and you bite your lip to hold back your mewls. “Don’t do that. I like the way you sound.” Spencer encourages, resulting in another moan from you, loving the effect his words have on you.

Hotch unclasps your bra from behind and Spencer helps him by pulling your straps down, letting your breasts fall free. Hotch grabs your left breast, kneading it with his strong, calloused hands as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers. Spencer uses the momentary distraction to bend down and experimentally licks your nipple, humming at the sensation. He gives a couple more licks to your breast as he pulls your nipple in between his lips, sucking on it as he flicks his tongue against the sensitive bud.

You feel overwhelmed by the way all of your erogenous zones are stimulated at once; Hotch licking and biting on your neck and ear, while massaging your breast and grinding his hardness against your ass. Spencer’s swollen lips and wet tongue tracing over your nipple as Derek caresses your thighs as he adds a second finger into your pussy. You realize that this is what pleasure is supposed to be like. The zones on your body are all connected and you haven’t experienced true bliss until those spots get triggered at the same time.

“Morgan, is she ready?” Hotch asks, breathing heavily.

“More than ready, sir,” Derek grins as he takes a step back. He lets his fingers slide out of you, making you whimper at the loss of contact, but then Hotch turns you around so that your chest is pressed up against the elevator doors where he was standing.

“I need you for myself,” he groans. Derek tosses a condom from his jeans and Hotch catches it, ripping the package with his teeth while pulling his trousers down to his knees, not wanting to let a single moment go to waste. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he slowly enters you.

“Oh my god… I feel so full,” you whine and you swear you could feel him grin as you register that he’s not even fully inside of you. You let out a long breath as you feel his balls make contact with your ass.

“You’re doing okay there, princess?” Derek chuckles and you nod. Hotch slowly moves his length out of you as he slams his hips back in with a groan. You gasp as you wrap your hand around the back of his head, keeping yourself steady as he continues thrusting into you. His growls feel hot against your neck. His sweaty chest pressed up against your back, leaving you completely in his grasp.

“You feel that angel? How your pussy swallows my cock?” You let out a cry as you nod your head in agreement.

“I don’t understand Y/N. You’re a big girl, use your words.”

“Oh god…’’ Your head spins as he pounds into you. “I’m not going to tell you again Y/N, use your words.” He orders.

“Yes!’’ you cry out. ‘’God yes Aaron, it feels so good. I can feel you so deep inside of me.”

“Say my name again.” He moans as his hand trails down your stomach until it reaches your swollen bud. “Aaron, please… I’m so, so close.” He gives some quick taps to your clit, making you squirm in pleasure as your knees give out. His strong hands grip you by the waist and he hoists you back up on his dick. “I’m almost there honey, you can keep it up, be good for me.”

You let out a string of whines as he uses the palm of his hand to swiftly move against your folds, indirectly bringing pleasure to your clit. You can’t take it any more, pressing your nails into his arms as you crouch down in front of him, shaking as your release hits you. Hotch groans loudly as his dick slips out of your pussy. His dick twitches as he takes off the condom, painting your back with hot spurts of cum.

You have your eyes closed, trying to catch your breath as you’re still riding down your orgasm. You hum as you feel the soft material of Spencer’s sweater vest against your back, cleaning you up.

“You okay?” Spencer asks, kneeled in front of you. You nod your head and softly smile at his tenderness.

“Yeah. I feel really, really good.” You answer, making Spencer return your smile. With him in front of you, you notice the visible outline of his bulge pressed against his thigh and reach out to touch it. Your fingers lightly brush over his length, causing him to shudder.

“Do you want me to take care of you?” You ask sensually, looking in his eyes.

“Not really,” he responds, taking you by surprise. He sees your expression and quickly corrects himself. “It’s not like I don’t want you to! I’d- I’d love you to do…”, he’s not actually sure what you planned on doing to him. “Whatever you would do. I just-,” his voice softens, meeting your gaze. “I really need to know what you taste like.”

Your cheeks warm, feeling your arousal grow. “Okay,” you exhale. Spencer extends his hand, helping you up. You find your blazer and bundle it up for Spencer to lay his head on. You’re amazed at how willing he is to get down on the floor, ready to eat you out in a very nontraditional and arguable unsanitized way. You hover over his face as you get down on your knees, letting out a hum as his breath tingles your pussy. Spencer kneads your calves and runs his hands up the back of your thighs. He tilts his head up, placing a wet kiss on your inner thigh.

“Feels good,” you mumble. Spencer responds with a hum against your skin, the vibration causing you to moan. He grabs your thighs, slowly pulling them further apart. “I can’t wait to taste you,” he admits, sticking out his tongue and licking a stripe up your folds. You moan, arching your back. Through hooded eyes you spot the figure of Hotch. He’s sitting against the wall in front of you, lazily stroking his half hard length as he stares at you.

Just when you were about to question where Morgan was, you catch him in your periphery. He holds your gaze as he approaches, coming to a stop right in front of you. His belt buckle hangs open, but it doesn’t look like he’s touched himself.

“If you don’t mind, I’d really like to take up on that offer genius here denied.” You grin at him, hands reaching out to his belt. Spencer is keeping himself busy, licking and sucking up your juices. You pull Derek’s pants down, gasping as his dick springs free, slapping against his happy trail. You groan in delight as you wrap your hand around his shaft. He tilts his head back at the contact. “Fuck baby, your hands feel so warm and soft.” You lean forward and let some of your spit dribble down on his dick, making him hiss. You move your thumb in circles over his tip, mixing your saliva with his precum. When it feels like it’s wet enough, you move your hand up and down his length in a steady motion.

His tip grows red and you cannot resist licking your lips before putting your mouth on him. He feels heavy in your mouth as you take him in deeper, stimulating him with your tongue as you suck. His hands tangle in your hair, holding you as he moves in sync with your movements.

Spencer moves a hand up the curve of your ass while he uses the other to unbuckle his belt. He slides his hand in his pants, rubbing himself over his boxers as he relishes in your taste. His lips nibble on your labia as his nose tickles against your clit.

“Don’t get distracted, baby girl,” Derek states, softly pushing your head back down. You swallow around him and try to up your pace. Derek takes your breast in his hand, massaging it. As your nipples harden he takes one in between his fingers, pulling on it. You gasp at the sensation, making his dick slide deeper down your throat.

“Fuck! Right there baby, that feels so good,” he pants. You blink away tears, continuing the steady movement of your head and swirls of your tongue.

Spencer’s dick starts feeling too hot in his boxers and he pulls it out, so that it lays against his stomach. Your pussy is absolutely dripping because of the swipes of Spencer’s tongue and the taste of Derek in your mouth. Spencer can’t keep up with licking you clean, your wetness dripping down his chin. He reaches out to grab his length, the skin to skin contact overstimulating him.

You notice Spencer getting restless underneath you. Derek’s dick pops out of your mouth. “Are you okay, Spence?” You ask. He hums against your clit in response, you let out a high pitched moan and instinctively bend your knees. “Sorry,” you apologize as you want to tilt your hips back up, but Spencer pulls you back down by your thighs, making you sit on his face.

“Oh god…” You moan as he starts devouring you. He keeps a hand firm on your ass as he starts jerking himself off to the beautiful sounds that you’re making. You lazily tug on Derek’s cock, too distracted by Spencer’s tongue.

“Oh Spencer, I’m going to cum,” you whimper, mouth open and brows furrowed in pleasure. You start grinding yourself on his tongue, seeking your release. You find the perfect spot and Spencer presses the tip of his tongue against your clit, as you fall undone. Spencer laps up your juices and squeezes the load out of his dick as it splatters on his belly. You lift your hips to give Spencer some space. He moves away, joining you on his knees as he sits behind you, pressing featherlight kisses to your back.

“I’m not gonna last that much longer,” Derek announces, who’s been stroking himself to your orgasm. “Come here, then,” you invite as you take him back in your mouth. Placing a hand on his thigh for support, you use all of the energy that is left in you to suck him off. Your free hand reaches out to play with his balls, which seems to be the trigger for him.

“Fuck, Y/N, baby, I’m going to cum!” He groans deeply as he fills your mouth. You quickly swallow his load, eyes watering as he pulls you in by your head, needing your lips on him as he rides out the aftershocks.

“Fuck… You’re amazing, sweetheart.” He sighs, letting go of your hair so that you can catch your breath.

“Who the hell is in there?”

The voice outside is sharp and gruff. Everyone’s heads whip around, startled. Hotch swiftly buckles his belt as he strides towards the elevator doors.

“This is SSA Aaron Hotchner of the BAU. I’m stuck here with three of my agents.”

The voice responds quickly, dripping with disbelief. "Why didn’t you morons use the emergency button?"

Your colleagues look at each other, then shift their gaze to you, all with accusing looks plastered on their faces.

"Hey, don’t look at me! I’m the first one that pressed the red button!" You say in defense.

The voice outside huffs in frustration. "Red? It's a black button."

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to the panel. You crawl up to get a better look, and sure enough, there's a black button, boldly labeled ‘EMERGENCY.��

"What in the world?" you mutter under your breath. "Then what the hell is the red button for?!"

The voice outside laughs sarcastically. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I’ve been working here for six months. Don’t blame me because you can’t read." He pauses, clearly shaking his head. "FBI agents, my ass."

You blink in disbelief. You share an incredulous glance with Derek, then burst out laughing, your frustration giving way to amusement. "Seriously?" you mutter, shaking your head.

Derek notices how Spencer’s been unusually quiet. “Speak up, kid,” he urged.

“I’ve known what the buttons do the entire time,” he says, voice casual.

You and Hotch both turn to look at him, eyes wide. “What?!” You both exclaim at the same time.

Spencer shrugs, a playful glint in his eyes. “I told you about those movies where people overcome their differences to try to escape. I wanted to see how we would solve it.”

Derek’s mouth drops open. “You’ve been sitting here the whole time knowing exactly what to do and didn’t say anything?!”

Spencer smiles, looking almost proud of himself. “It’s a team-building exercise,” he says matter-of-factly. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t enjoy it.”

You shake your head, laughing in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable, Reid.”

As if on cue, the elevator jolts, and the soft ding of the doors opening fills the space.

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kannady · 3 months ago

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v i a g r a

pairing: sylus x reader

summary: you worked in a pharmaceutical company that had recently developed a libido-enhancing drug. however, it had only been tested on the average people. it needed to be tested on someone with an already high libido. who could be a better test subject than your boyfriend?

an: i dont knowwwww. this is my first time writing smut. lemme know if you feel the knot-in-your-stomach typa feeling. bet you cant tell this was inspired by innocent birdcage ;). and btw this is NOT related to my other sylus fic im working on, its a oneshot.

genre: sylus, love and deepspace, smut, p in v, cunnilingus, creampie, reader is a researcher, established relationship, slight degradation, 18+ content

The lab was quiet at this hour, the glow of screens illuminating the sterile surfaces. You tapped a finger over the data pad as you scrolled through the latest results. Perfect efficiency, zero side effects. Your company had managed to create a libido-enhancing formula that promised to provide pleasure and only pleasure—nothing else. However, there was one small issue. The formula had only been tested on ordinary people, and there was still one variable left untested: the effects of the revolutionary drug on someone already with a high libido.

And that was how Sylus ended up sprawled across your exam table, looking far too pleased with himself. “Remind me again why I’m the ideal subject?” He knew exactly why, but he needed to hear it from your lips. Again.

“We needed someone with a high baseline stamina, rigor, and elevated natural response,” you replied confidently, refusing to let your voice waver.

He smirked at your response and repeated the word elevated like it was an inside joke, stretching just enough to make the fabric of his shirt rise, revealing his toned abs. Not now. But you couldn’t help yourself and stole another glimpse. He was truly beautiful everywhere.

He noticed your gaze. “Like what you see, kitten? Or should I say doctor?” You ignored that—or at least tried. But he knew exactly what he did to you. You adjusted the sensors on his wrist and walked to the monitor to check his vitals. His pulse was steady, strong. Like he knew where this was going.

“Administering the dose now,” you said, handing him the pill with your gloved hand. Sylus took it slowly, his fingertips brushing yours with deliberate intent before popping it into his mouth. He swallowed, never breaking eye contact.

“How long until it kicks in?”

“Approximately twenty minutes.” You turned back to the monitors, determined to focus on the numbers and not the way he was watching you.

“So, we’ve got time to kill.” His voice was a low purr. You knew what he meant. Knew exactly where this was going. But professionalism was a flimsy shield against Sylus when he got like this.

The first alert chimed on the monitor. Elevated heart rate. Pupil dilation. You didn’t need the screens to tell you what you could already see—the way his breath deepened, the way his fingers flexed against the table like he was holding himself back.

“Interesting,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly. “This feels faster than usual.” His gaze dropped to your lips. You caught him wetting his own, you weren’t mistaken.

“You should take notes, doctor.”

Oh, right. You hastily reached for your journal and started scribbling. You needed to record the exact time the dose was administered and when the effects began. But your attention snapped back to the monitor when it buzzed. You frowned. The sensors were going wild. Panic set in as you turned to Sylus, and the sight alarmed you. His face was flushed, bangs stuck to his forehead from sweat. He was panting.

“Oh, shit! Shit!” You ran to him and placed your hands on his shoulders, but his body heat seared through the fabric. The drug had worked fine for everyone else, but this was the first time you’d seen this. You racked your brain. You’d studied for this. Now was not the time to panic. Apply the knowledge!

Okay, follow the protocol. You dashed to the cabinet for diazepam. He needed sedation and close monitoring. Just before you could inject him, he grabbed your wrist. Just enough to make your breath hitch and sat upright.

“You’ve been so thorough with your research.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “But don’t you think it’s time for a more hands-on approach, doctor?”

You opened your mouth to protest—this was supposed to be professional, controlled, but his lips grazed your neck, and the words dissolved into a gasp. His hands slid down your hips, gripping hard as he lifted you onto the exam table, knocking aside vials with a careless sweep.

“Won’t you help me, kitten?” His eyes flashed with feral hunger. A low growl rumbled in his chest as he closed the scant distance between you.

He kissed you like a man starved. His lips molded against yours in a hot, demanding kiss, tongue delving into your mouth to claim it. One hand fisted in your hair, holding you in place, while the other gripped your hip, yanking your body flush against his. He nipped your bottom lip, soothing the sting with a swipe of his tongue before diving back in.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he groaned against your lips. His hands slid down to palm your ass, squeezing as he pulled you tighter. You could feel his thick, rigid length straining against his jeans. The sensation made you moan into the kiss.

He released your hair, grabbed your hand, and pressed it against his hardening bulge. “You feel that, kitten? You made me so fucking hard.” He lightly bit your lip. “Been thinking about how good I’d fuck you, make you come all over my cock.”

His words were filthy, incredibly arousing. You couldn’t help but imagine him taking you raw, making you feel so good. But he’d read your thoughts.

“You want it too, right? Say it, kitten. Beg me to fuck you like the little slut you are. Hmm?”

All he’d done was kiss you, but you felt like you were floating. You didn’t care about the experiment anymore—you just wanted him.

“P-Please, Sylus…”

“Please what? Use your words, kitten.” He rocked into you, letting you feel how much he wanted you, how hard he was already.

“I want-want you to f-fuck me, Sylus.”

“Good girl.”

His hand slid under your shirt, calloused fingers skimming your stomach. He paused at the underside of your breast, thumb teasing the edge of your bra. “You wanted data? Let me show you exactly what your little experiment does to me.”

He yanked your top off and latched onto your neck, pressing sloppy kisses and bites into the sensitive skin, marks that would linger. The drug’s effects were evident in his movements: impatient, relentless. The monitors were a mess of erratic beeps, but neither of you cared.

With an expert flick, he unhooked your bra and latched onto your breast, his free hand sliding down your stomach, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to tease the wet heat between your thighs.

“Fuck,” he growled against your chest, voice dripping with lust. “Already soaked for me, kitten?”

You gasped as his fingers pressed against your clit, circling just enough to make your hips jerk.

“S-Sylus—the experiment—”

“Oh, we’re still experimenting,” he purred before kissing up your throat and capturing your lips again. His tongue plunged deep, mimicking the filthy rhythm of his fingers as they slid inside you, curling just right to make you cry out. “Maybe not in the way you planned.”

Without warning, he plunged three fingers into your dripping cunt, making you gasp and arch off the table.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he groaned, pumping his fingers in and out. “So fucking ready for me.”

Sylus knelt, his tongue lapping at your clit as his fingers curled inside you, stroking that spot that made your toes curl. He suckled hard, fingers speeding up, fucking you with ruthless intensity.

“That’s it, baby. Soak my fingers. I want to feel you dripping all over my cock when I split you open.” His voice was a filthy growl against your skin.

You could feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, your body tensing as you neared the edge.

“Come for me, sweetie. Come all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.”

His thumb pressed hard against your clit, rubbing tight circles as he finger-fucked you wildly. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room. His eyes met yours, wicked gleam in their depths as he waited for you to shatter.

The orgasm crashed over you, your back arching as Sylus wrung every last drop of pleasure from your trembling body. Your thighs clamped around his head, fingers tangled in his hair.

But Sylus wasn’t done. He licked you clean until you were a squirming, overstimulated mess.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your thigh, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin before pulling away. His lips glistened with your arousal, and he licked them slowly, savoring the taste. “So fucking delicious.”

You were still catching your breath when he stood, unbuckling his belt with deliberate slowness. His eyes never left yours, dark with hunger.

“Now, where were we?”

The leather slid free, and your pulse jumped. He smirked, letting the belt drop before popping the buttons of his jeans. The denim slid down, revealing his thick, straining cock, already leaking at the tip. He palmed himself with a groan, stroking slowly as he watched you.

“I hope you’re taking notes, doctor.”

Your mouth went dry. The drug had amplified everything. His scent, the heat rolling off him, the way his muscles flexed. Professionalism was long forgotten.

Sylus stepped forward, yanking your hips to the edge of the table. His cock brushed your soaked folds, making you shudder.

“Tell me you want it,” he hissed. “Tell me you need me to fuck you.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I need it. Please, Sylus-”

He didn’t make you beg again.

With one brutal thrust, he sheathed himself inside you, filling you to the brim, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. He was huge, stretching you impossibly full.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed.

For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed. Then Sylus pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a relentless pace. The exam table rattled, monitors beeping wildly, but the only sounds that mattered were the filthy slap of skin and your ragged gasps.

Sylus’s hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he drove into you, each thrust hitting that sweet spot.

“That’s it. Take it,” he growled, voice strained. “Take every fucking inch.”

You could feel another orgasm coiling fast. Sylus sensed it too, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles as he angled his hips just right.

“Come for me,” he ordered. “I want to feel you squeeze my cock like a good little slut.”

The command shattered you. Your walls clenched around him, pleasure erupting as you came with a broken cry. Sylus fucked you through it, his control fraying, thrusts turning erratic.

“Fuck, you’re milking me so good,” he snarled, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “Gonna fill you up, kitten. Pump you so full of cum you’ll feel me dripping out for days.”

The filthy promise sent another wave of heat through you. Sylus’s rhythm stuttered, his cock twitching as his release tore through him. With a guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, hilting himself deep as hot ropes of cum painted your walls.

You whimpered at the sensation, oversensitive body pulsing weakly around him.

For a moment, the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the wet slide of Sylus’s cock still lazily thrusting, spreading his release. His forehead dropped against yours, breath uneven.

“Fuck,” he panted, lips brushing yours. “That was-”

The monitor let out a shrill beep. Sylus didn’t flinch.

“Turn it off,” he growled, nipping your lip.

You slapped at the buttons until the noise stopped. Sylus chuckled darkly, hands sliding up to cup your breasts, thumbs teasing your stiff nipples.

“Good girl.”

His cock was still hard inside you. You gasped as he rolled his hips, dragging against your sensitive walls.

“S-Sylus--”

“Mmm, not done yet,” he murmured, lips trailing down your throat. “That little drug of yours? It’s got me fucking insatiable.”

His teeth grazed your collarbone. “And you’re not walking out of here until I’ve had my fill.”

Before you could process the threat, he flipped you onto your stomach, yanking your hips up until your ass pressed flush against him. One hand tangled in your hair, forcing your head back as the other guided his cock back to your soaked entrance.

“Can you take it?” he demanded, voice dripping with lust.

You whimpered, already aching.

“Y-Yes--”

Sylus didn’t wait. He slammed into you in one brutal stroke, sheathing himself to the hilt. The force knocked the breath from your lungs, fingers scrambling for purchase as he set a punishing pace.

“That’s it,” he growled, grip tightening in your hair. “Take it like the fucking slut you are.”

The filthy praise sent sparks through you, your body responding eagerly even as pleasure bordered on pain. His free hand found your clit, rubbing rough, relentless circles.

“Gonna make you come again,” he promised, voice dark and sinful. “Gonna make you scream so loud they hear you in the next lab.”

You couldn’t hold back the broken moan as his fingers worked you in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation pushing you toward another dizzying peak.

“Sylus-!”

“Say my name like that when you come,” he ordered, hips snapping forward hard enough to make the table creak. “Let me fucking hear you.”

You shattered with a cry, body clamping around him as pleasure ripped through you. Sylus swore, rhythm faltering as your tight heat milked him through his own release. He buried himself deep, grinding into you as he came, groan muffled against your shoulder.

For a long moment, the only sounds were your heavy breaths and the soft drip of sweat and cum onto the floor.

Sylus finally pulled out, hands smoothing over your trembling thighs.

“Well, doctor,” he purred, pressing a kiss to the small of your back. “I’d say your experiment was successful.”

You collapsed onto the table, boneless and utterly ruined.

You looked around. The lab was a disaster.

Sylus chuckled lowly, taking in the wreckage—overturned vials, scattered papers, blinking monitors. His gaze drifted to you, still sprawled and trembling. A smirk tugged at his lips, but his eyes held something softer.

“Looks like we made a mess, kitten,” he murmured, brushing a damp strand from your forehead.

You groaned, weakly swatting his hand. “You think?”

Sylus laughed, offering his hand. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You hesitated, but his fingers curled around yours, warm and steady. Your legs wobbled, and he didn’t miss your wince as your feet touched the floor. Without a word, he slid an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, lips brushing your temple.

You wanted to protest, but your knees threatened to give out. So you let him guide you to the sink, where he wet a cloth and gently wiped away the sweat and stickiness.

“You didn’t have to-”

“Don’t,” he cut in, thumb tracing your jaw. “Just let me take care of you.”

No teasing, no smugness. Just quiet sincerity.

Once you were steady, Sylus turned to the lab, righting equipment and gathering papers with surprising efficiency.

You watched, lips quirking. “Since when are you so domestic?”

He shot you a smirk. “I have hidden depths, sweetie.”

You rolled your eyes, but your chest felt strangely warm.

By the time the worst was cleaned, exhaustion weighed on you. Sylus noticed immediately, his arm slipping around your waist again.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmured.

You leaned into him, too tired to argue. “You’re not carrying me.”

Sylus grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "Wouldn’t dream of it, doctor."

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snoopychris · 3 months ago

Text

fully introducing snoopy!chris and woodstock!reader

chris remembers the conversation he had with matt so vividly. semi vividly. to be completely honest, he hardly remembers anything at all. something along the lines of ‘she’ll be hurt if you say that.’ at least, that’s what he thinks matt said. he wishes he could remember a little bit of the conversation, but it couldn’t have been that important if he didn’t. he should’ve felt bad for the way he was ending this relationship. most people would. but not this relationship. not today. not chris.

“look mikayla it’s not me, it’s you.” chris speaks, standing up from the sorority couch he was previously seated in. the girl besides him, face covered in disbelief, scoffs as she looks up at him, standing up to follow him out the door. chris continues on without a care in the world, glancing behind him to face her once more. “can i help you?”

“well… yeah kinda. first of all my name isn’t mikayla… it’s mackenzie… second of all isn’t the phrase… it’s not you it’s me?” she asks, furrowing her brows at chris as he continues walking towards his car. chris shrugs smugly, clicking the button to make his getaway more accessible.

“it probably is but… i wasn’t really the problem here so. you know… live a good life or whatever they say. to be honest i don’t… really care. so. later i guess.” chris smirks as he climbs into the drivers seat of his old, beatdown, volkswagen beetle. it makes him look stupid sometimes, but a car is a car. he won’t complain. not about this anyway. its still all his. some guys his age dont even have a drivers license. Chris chuckles to himself as he parks in the garage of his apartment complex, strutting his way into his apartment.

theres a few stray puppies that are standing by the door that chris wishes he could help, but the no dogs allowed sign on the door forbids him from doing it. he cant get kicked out of another complex. if he did, then it wouldve been nearly every building that was affordable for him. his keys jangle as he walks into his space, slamming the door behind him shut. he licks his lips for a moment before taking a seat on the couch next to matt, crossing his legs as he props them up on the coffee table.

“and thats zeta tau alpha done. you truly underestimate me. one girl from each sorority on campus. dumped by me. only took me 6 weeks too.” matt scoffs at chris’ persistence on completing the “challenge” that was realistically nothing more than a drunk blabber. the beer bottle in matts hand is placed down on the table rapidly, the disappointment in his face settling. matt bites his bottom lip as if to watch his mouth– to sensor his thoughts. he doesnt have the heart to tell his brother the things hes really thinking. maybe some other time.

“that's two girls per week on average and its incredibly sad of you to do. they all have feelings y’know. “ to some extent, chris knows that matts right. he was always the smarter brother to begin with. Chris shrugs slightly as he reaches for a swig of matts beer, wincing slightly at the taste. he was never much of a drinker for the taste of it. if anything, it was more for the feeling that it gave him. it took away the feeling of being a disappointment.

it wasnt always this way. ages ago, chris had some sort of life plan. he would graduate high school with decent grades and take his skills to college. he would play baseball for his schools team while majoring in journalism or some sort of writing. Chris still doesnt know where his plans all went wrong.

a single bump in the road took him down the completely wrong path. as much as he regrets never doing anything with his life the way his brothers had, chris doesnt think hed ever redo any of it. he’s as content as he can be with the place hes in now. it sucks to always be compared to other people, his brothers especially, but there wasnt much he could do about it anymore.

Chris notices the way matts open to speak. its impossible not to. he’s almost afraid of what matts about to say. he expects some sort of lecture. some sort of scolding. something hes unfortunately used to.

“you wanna go to that new coffee shop down the street? Nick asked me to get him a matcha before he got back from his appointment.” matt’s words almost lift a weight off of chris’ chest. he’s never been more relieved to be invited somewhere. Chris nods slowly, his phone on the couch buzzing a few times shortly after he stands up.

matt notices it. matt also notices the way chris does everything he possibly can to ignore it. chris disregards all of it as he walks out the door, not even bothering to grab the keys to his car. matt follows close behind, hooking his carabiner to the loop of his jeans the way he always would.

it was a constant. one of many things matt had that chris didn’t. one of many constants chris wanted at times.

there’s not much exchanged on the ride there. not much needs to be said. there’s not much that should be heard. it’s too much. it’s all too much right now. “down the street” for matt is realistically across town for any other person. it’s a drive that’s quiet. relaxing. it’s a silent prayer, almost, that the ambiance of the coffee shop is the same as the car ride.

when chris walks inside, he wished he had never left the house to begin with. there’s nothing wrong with the place itself. it seems fine. it seems like any other coffee shop. what chris can’t stand— what chris wants to avoid—is the person behind the counter. chris can’t stand you.

he’d seen you around a few times before. you were in a sorority— he wasn’t quite too sure which one, but he also didn’t care enough to find out. every single time he saw you, you were always so bubbly and full of joy. the yellow tint of your bow matched your entire aura. chris hated it.

“hi matt! hi chris!” you cheer, the sway of your ponytail infuriating chris even more. he was one smile away from losing it. albeit, he smiles fakely, tapping his hands on the counter as if it were a drum kit. “what can i get for you guys?”

chris hopes you can’t see the way he rolls his eyes at every single one of your words. his eyes scan the bright menu over and over again, not quite deciding what to get. the smile on your face is still incredibly present. he hesitates for a moment, glancing at your figure and then at matt, who had already ordered both his own drink and nicks.

“just pick something for me. none of your girly pink shit. something strong.” chris requests, clapping his hands together as he takes a seat at a nearby table. he couldnt believe that somebody could be so cheery all the time. he just doesn’t get it. maybe there’s a chance you’ll forget he’s even there.

he feels the looming. it’s impossible not to. the staring. all of it. “what.” he spits, whipping his head around to look at you. he feels a little bad when you’re standing there with a tray of drinks in to go cups. one he recognizes as nicks matcha. one is matt’s lavender latte. and one is nothing more than a black iced coffee. he found it hard to believe that you had actually listened to his requests. at the same time, he expected nothing more from you. “something else i can help you with?”

“i just um… yeah and basically” you stutter, setting the drinks on the table for matt and chris to grab on their way out. matt takes the cue and leaves with two of the drinks, only leaving behind chris’ and chris himself. chris scoffs when you can’t form a coherent sentence, standing up and grabbing his drink before speaking.

“spit it out kid” your eyes widen at the suddenness of it all, the tray falling to your side as you bite your inner cheek.

“well i wanna be your friend and i-“ chris cuts you off before anything, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a sip of whatever drink you made him. it’s bitter. it’s good.

“not happening” he states, a pout on his face present as a means to mock you. you’re more persistent than chris expected.

“but-“

“nope.” he states once more, placing a few dollars on the table before walking out the door. somehow, it only leaves you wanting his friendship more. it’s a challenge. you’re willing to accept it. you’re willing to wait.

you drag your feet back to behind the cafe bar slowly, beginning to make other drinks as you watch chris climb into the car that’s waiting for him out front. a gentle elbow to the ribcage from your coworker makes you smile, writing a small message on the cup in your hands.

“he seems so sweet... and hes cute too. i have a feeling you’re not gonna give up on being his friend are you?” she whispers, gesturing her head to the door. to nobody’s surprise, you shake your head as you pour out some spare milk, licking your lips before speaking.

“nope.”

a/n: WAAAAA im so excited for this au u guys dont GET ITTTT

tags(reply or message to be added): @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @13hoax @riasturns @oopsiedaisydeer @darksturnz @chrisbratt333 @throatgoat4u @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @cvnntagious @muwapsturniolo @strnilolover @55sturn @sosasturns @mattscoquette @chrattho1 @bluestriips @submattenthusiast @chrismalfoy @luckyscharms @applecidersturniolo

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡snoopy!chris #⋆˙⟡chris!#chris sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo au #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo angst

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rabotimagines · 3 months ago

Note

jealous cons sounds really funny, especially if they can't do anything but mald

TOP DECEPTICON MALDERS LETS GOOOO!

"Hero" GN BOT Reader x Megatron, Starscream, Blitzwing, Skywarp

Summary: Your friends save you from the Decepticons. The cons get pissed they missed another chance at you! Then you even kiss your friend on the cheek in thanks! (Scandalous, I know.)

G1 characters: Megatron, Starscream, Blitzwing, Skywarp. (The Autobots that save Reader are Optimus, Bluestreak, Tracks, and Hound!)

Genre/Theme: Cross faction Jealousy

Warnings: Blitzwing is a menace and mentions thinking of ripping readers' modesty panel off. It doesn't happen, but y'know. The Decepticons being brats experiencing being told "No" for the first time (The Cons are malding real bad). The cons generally assuming they have a "right" to Reader.

Pronouns: You, Your, Yours

Notes: This is based on teasing/flirty Autobot Reader, whom the Decepticons get a bit too interested in. Reader knows what they're doing and they do it specifically to fuck with the Decepticons. Via kissing your Autobot friends on the cheek!

Megatron is mad- he's not just mad he is furious when Prime, the fool that he is, puts himself between you and Megatron. Now, if it was any of the other puny Autobots, Megatron would not have cared nearly as much. Because to Megatron, the average Autobot mech meant nothing. They were measly target practice to him! But Prime? Optimus Prime was not any mere mech! He was the slagging closest Megatron would come to finding an equal, let alone out on this rock.

But Prime saves you as he does- the withering sparkdamn fool. And Megatron finally nearly had you in his grasp, and Prime had to come and rip you away from him. Megatron has to pull himself back up to find Prime still holding you against his own frame. "My hero!" You say as you smile the blasted way you do when you look at the other Autobots and you- Megatron can not hide his scowl when you throw your arms around Primes frame and kiss him on the side of his battle mask. Primes optics brighten and widen, and his sparkdamned plating even fluffs under your affections.

Megatrons cannon starts humming loud in response to his own emotional receptors and his own blindly consuming urge to shoot then and there. But Megatron knows he's lost- and that just makes his cannon start smoking in barely restrained murderous indent. "This isn't over Prime!" Megatron snarls out with a digit pointed firm at him. Megatron growls and calls for the Decepticons to retreat. And in his still stewing rage, Megatron internally begins making new plans for the next opportunity he has to try and obtain a hold of you.

Megatron would not come so close to getting a hold of you again and fail twice. Prime wouldn't know what hit him!

Starscream is positively fuming! He'd gotten a hold of you again, and he'd made sure those fragging terror twins were busy when he did it. But the fragging praxian stopping him! Not even the battle computer- it was the sparkdamn annoying one! Starscream openly glares at where you two were standing next to one another. You just smile the infuriating way you do at the Autobots. "My hero!" You exclaim, and Starscream bafflingly watches you throw your arms around the praxian- and you even kiss him on the cheek!?

The praxians optics widen and brighten quickly. And his dumb little insignificant door sensors hike high and start twitching. He smiles like a fragging imbecile and even laughs. Laughs about it! Starscream's engines growl hot in righteous fury. How dare this little insignificant praxian Autobot pede solider get in between Starscream and his claim on you!? Starscream had every fragging right in taking you apart, plate by plate for everything you'd put him through! And he almost had you- no, he did have you! And you got ripped right out of his grasp.

And Starscream is positively fragging seething about it. Starscream clenches his servos so tight his joints creak. His wings raise high at an angle, promising violence of the highest intensity. And Starscream knows he needs to retreat because they'd lost. He'd lost. Starscream bares his denta and has to force himself to turn on a pede and retreat. Starscream is irate but he's decided to start scheming once more- if Starscream couldn't get you alone on the battlefield naturally he'd just have to figure out how to distract your fellow sparkdamn Autobots- then you'd be all his for the taking.

If there was one thing Starscream was, it was tenacious. And he wasn't about to stop before he had you in his grasp.

Blitzwing was having a fragging good day- a really good one! He'd smashed some buildings, made the puny humans run like the vermin they were. He even smashed up a few Autobots! Oh, and then- and then! He got into a fight with you, and he started winning. Actually winning. Blitzwing actually managed to pin you down, and he was going to rip your modesty panel right off of you- and then Blitzwing gets hit hard and knocked down. And he's lost his fragging grip on you-! It ends with Blitzwing on his aft and you having gotten away from him.

You're standing next to the Autobots discount triple changer! You're brushing the dirt off your frame all before you throw your arms around the blue mech "My hero!" Then you even kiss him on the cheek! The mech jerks and pulls away from your touch and wipes his own cheek- is he stupid? His plating fluffs, and he crosses his arms over his chassis to turn and glare at Blitzwing instead. But Blitzwing had wings, so he knows exactly what it means when the mechs wings rank up high and fan out. And all three of Blitzwing's engines rumble because he was not a happy mech.

Slagging sparkdamnit all! Blitzwing had you right there! You were even under him already- But No! The knock-off poser had to go and get involved and mess everything up for Blitzwing. Whatever! Blitzwing's broken Mr. broody blue over there's frame before! Blitzwing just had to do it again, and then he'd have you all to himself. Except now you're brandishing your own weapon, and now Blitzwings gonna have to pin you all over again! Gah!! Why the in the pit did this reject have to ruin everything for Blitzwing! Blitzwing rushes forward with a shout- and skids to a stop right before he picks up any real momentum because Megatrons calling for retreat! Blitzwing takes one long look at you two before vowing to rip the blue mechs wings off the next chance he got before taking off.

Blitzwing wasn't gonna stop till he had you back under him where you belonged!

Skywarp's laughing when you miss another shot on him when he warps. This was going great! He had you alone out here away from the other Autodorks, and he was actually wearing you down! Now he just needed to grab you- Skywarp warps close and latches onto your waist only he stops and cycles his optics because uh- there's another mech on his left- and another on his right- There's three of you suddenly right in front of him!? The two versions of you on his side push forward and get into Skywarp’s faceplate, making him let go of the you he was holding. huh!? Is this one of Skywarps reflux recharges?! Both versions of you grin and then just- disappear!?

Skywarp cycles his optics, and his gaze snaps to the you a ways away. Where you're now standing next to the green Autobot scout. Aw, frag it all! He used his sparkdamn illusions on Skywarp! "You little-!" Skywarp stops short when you turn towards the jeep and throw your arms around him.

"My hero!" You sing all before- kissing the grounder on the cheek!? Wha-?! The grounders' optics brighten, and his plating ruffles up. He even rubs the nape of his neck cables all shy and slag- What the frag!? That should be Skywarp! Not some dirty green hippie grounder who can't keep his olfactory in his own business! Skywarp's wings slant, and he's imagining exactly what cavern he's gonna drop this fragging jeep over-

And his HUDs flashing that Megatron ordered a retreat! "Slag it all!" Skywarp growls before turning back to the two of you and pointing at you. "Next time, gorgeous!" Then the jeep steps in front of you- and oh, Skywarp so wants to rip his fuel tank out for it. His HUD flashes again, and Skywarp flashes a rude gesture at the jeep all before warping away. He almost had you! Frag! Skywarp just needed to get you alone again- Skywarp could do that! Easy!

Skywarp just needed to do that, and he'd have you all to himself!

#transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x cybertronian reader #rabot writes #megatron x reader #starscream x reader #blitzwing x reader #skywarp x reader #x reader #x gn reader #rabot requests

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socksandbuttons · 19 days ago

Text

Wake Up, Daydream (Part 1)

He woke with a start.

The sun model had been sitting on his knees with his hands lightly folded on his lap, as his oddly groggy mind slowly found reality returning to him. He had been seated in what he assumed to be the middle of a very large room with a single overly bright, florescent light shining down on him from above. This, while the rest of the room was fully concealed in shadows. The light sensors in his rays adjusted slightly as he sat up a bit straighter and tried to make out more of his surroundings. This room was as black as pitch and try as he might he couldn’t discern anything else in the area. He shifted and tried to stand up, but he found that his limbs were shaking as he did so and he ended up falling back down again... it was as though he had been asleep for hours, if not longer. It was unusual that he was this disoriented by everything after merely sleeping. Not to mention he couldn’t make out anything in the darkness that surrounded him.

‘Where... am I?’

Was he in parts and service again? Did he-

“Moon? D-did it work? Where’s Ecl-” He started, only to be interrupted by the sound of slow footsteps approaching him from a direction he couldn’t immediately discern. The sun themed animatronic tensed as he looked in all directions. Why’d Moon leave the lights off-

“Moon isn’t here. You don’t need to worry about him.”

This Sun froze and watched as another version of himself walked out from the dark directly in front of him. Right into the ring of light that shone down on the sitting Suns somewhat smaller than average form. The whole situation felt incredibly strange, his apparent doppelgangers presence only amplifying that feeling. Not to mention that when he looked into the other Suns eyes, he found no warmth. His steely gaze seemed to make the room feel colder. That cold feeling sending a chill down his spinal struts, but his frigid eyes aside, his face bore the expression of satisfaction.

The seated Sun furrowed his brow. Did... he know him?

“I’m glad to see you’re awake. I was starting to wonder if your processing unit would be responsive after all that.”

The smaller Sun blinked, confused. “W-What?”

“You were gone for quite a long time. I was starting to wonder if your system just didn’t want to wake up. Would’ve been a waste of effort if you hadn’t.” This stranger spoke so casually and matter-o-factly, as though Sun understood what was going on when he didn’t. He just kept staring. Who is this? What’s he got to do with- wait.

“Where’s Moon? Eclipse? Where are my brothers?” He asked, frantically looking around as if the darkness would disperse and reveal their location. But no such thing happened.

The strange Sun, Dark Sun, just placed a hand on this Sun’s shoulder, a motion that might have been comforting in a normal situation, but sadly it gave off no such feeling here. “I told you; he isn’t here. Neither is... Eclipse.”

“Did... did something happen to them? Who are you? Why-”

“I know you must have a lot of questions. But I promise you, I am here to help. Well, I already did given that you’re fully functioning now.” Dark Sun said as he gave him a halfhearted grin. But Sun didn’t feel any warmth from it. No comfort. Just that same coldness that seemed symbiotic with Dark Suns existence. But it was dawning on him what he was implying.

“...It... it didn’t work?” He whispered as he slumped back down. His mind started to race, all he could think about was that if he had survived then it meant- “I killed him?”

Dark Sun raised an eyebrow before giving him a rather quizzical hum; wordlessly asking for him to elaborate on that.

“Eclipse... is he-?”

“Oh.” Dark Sun suddenly chuckled, as if bemused. “No. He’s alive and well.”

Sun immediately let a relieved sigh, a small smile returning to his face. Though it faltered when he looked back to the other. Both knowing the next question, it hung silently in the air before the other Sun could speak it.

“Where’s Mo-” He didn’t get to finish asking, as Dark Sun swiftly reached down, grabbed his hands and brought him to his feet.

“Now is not the time to dive into all that.” He seemed to chide. “You want to see Eclipse, don’t you? Your brother?” The other Sun blinked rapidly, his muddled mind still trying to process what his doppelganger was saying. But once it truly registered, he nodded promptly.

“I-I do!”

With a sudden snap of Dark Sun’s fingers, the rest of the lights in the room turned on. Revealing to the smaller Sun that this definitely wasn’t parts and service. It… it looked more like a room that belonged in some sort of dark citadel or a castle.

Dark Sun didn’t let his guests attention linger on where he was for more than a few seconds. He kept his grip on confused animatronics shoulder and began guiding him out of what was actually his laboratory and toward the destination he planned for. Sun stumbled a bit along the way while trying to match the other’s quick and steady pace. Though he felt his balance was a bit off, the longer he was on his feet the more he felt his stability return. Eventually helping him to keep up with his mysterious companion, rather than just be dragged along.

“I’m sure that you have realized by now, that you were presumed dead.” Dark Sun stated as though this fact was a simple one and not one of deep, terrible significance. His guest actually stopped walking for a moment as this registered that this stranger even knew. He began to tense, wringing his hands in a nervous manner. He had indeed known the risks of what he had agreed to.

“I’m impressed you chose to agree to such a procedure and accepted all its risks down to your own code. However, we don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“’We?” Sun glanced at Dark Sun as he was being led into another, even larger room. Although he didn’t really have the chance to get a response as Dark Sun released his grip on him and this Sun stopped walking and just gaped at the sheer size of this place and how its gothic architecture made it look like they had just walked into an ancient cathedral.

“Now then, please step into the circle there.”

Sun finally turned back to Dark Sun, just as he pointed to a large glowing red circular panel in the middle of the room. The smaller Sun swallowed nervously and took several hesitant steps toward it. “Why?”

“You’ll see soon enough. I shouldn’t need to tell you who you’re going to find.” Dark Sun said as he turned toward a nearby pedestal that held a vast array of different buttons and switches and he began to input various commands. “Of course, I’m unsure of how prepared you may be for this. So my apologies in advance if it disorients you.”

The Sun felt a chill, realizing what he meant as he slowly walked into the glowing circle as he had been asked. Only for his legs to suddenly lock up and refuse to move at all once he was inside. Suddenly feeling a wave of fear, he tried to speak up only to find his voice was locked as well. He could only watch as Dark Sun looked up from the console and gave a small wave before pressing one final button.

And then he just wasn’t there...

It was as though the other Sun was suddenly falling forwards at an incredible speed. Colors, shapes and streams of lights rushing past him at a dizzying rate, his light processing overworking and glitching out. There came a moment when he couldn’t see anything-

And then he was in the dark again…

He took a second and let his eyes adjust. Noticing there were speckles of light now. He tried to sit up, the colorful balls he had unknowingly been submerged in shifting and rolling away as he did so. Oh. He was in the ball pit.

He looked around as he managed to stand up and wade out of the ball pit. Everything was so bright... and quiet.

“Hello?”

He didn’t get any response. Was this home? Was... was everything that just happened all real? Did that other Dark Sun mean it when he said that his brothers were alright? He could only look nervously ahead as he cautiously walked around. It seemed odd to him. All of it. He knew his Moon had built a portal in the ball pit. He’d explained how it worked before. Although... he hardly understood it really. Was that somehow how everything had all happened? He’d never gone in before.

Did he black out somehow instead?

He slowly took in his surroundings. It... it looked a lot like home. Isn’t it home?

Although he suddenly noticed that the barrels weren’t stacked properly. Oh no, he’d never leave this so messy. He wasted no time to start doing something that came to him as natural as breathing was to a human. Cleaning…

---------- AND THE FIRST PART WAS WRITTENNN for a while actually just forgot to edit something and post it lol BIG SHOUT OUT TO @thorns-and-rosewings for proofreading and adding descriptions!! ;0; truly i am grateful!! Anyway the first part to my Daydream Intro Fic! He's refered to as Sun here for now. I got him and solar meeting next. (Which had to be rewritten) Writing is hard. But its Happening!

Idk how im gonna write up Servant Moon but we'll get there when we get there. Maybe just thru various doodles ill bombard people.

#anyway to those wondering how Daydream returned there you goooo #theres still a bunch of things i gotta go over #tsams daydream #tsams solars sun #sams daydream #tsams au #tsams dark sun #sun and moon show

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chadobi · 28 days ago

Note

Hii!! I would have a request if it's ok...

So- I was thinking.. could you do one of the (or all separately) turtles with s/o that is.. kind of autistic, and their special interest are turtles, and they know absolutely ton of fun facts and know their anatomy very well and stuff

And maybe that would be the reason why they didn't freak out when they met em

Yeah anyways, thank you very much!!

Heyyy! Life’s been kinda crazy lately, so sorry I haven’t been around much! I’ve been writing some stuff for you guys when I get a chance tho! Btw, I freaking love this idea!

ROTTMNT boys with an S/O who knows everything about turtles

Rise!Leonardo (Red-Eared Slider)

•When you first meet him, Leo’s fully braced for the usual mix of panic, screaming, or fainting.

•But instead, you look him up and down and immediately say, “Oh wow, you’re a red-eared slider, right? The stripes on your face are a giveaway.”

•He freezes. “Uh… yeah? How do you…?”

•Cue you info-dumping about red-eared sliders being semi-aquatic, thriving in slow-moving water, how they bask to thermoregulate, and how some males vibrate their claws during mating displays—

•“WAIT—hold on—are you calling me flirty or just biologically accurate??”

•You tell him you’ve been obsessed with turtles since you were five, and Leo just falls in love a little on the spot.

•You literally never panic around them, and it makes Leo feel seen. Like… you met him as he is and you were just excited.

•He starts asking you about turtle trivia. Sometimes he’ll quiz you in battle just to distract you from danger (“What’s the average lifespan of a slider again?!” “20 to 40 years depending on habitat—wait, Leo, DUCK!”)

•He starts using turtle facts as cheesy flirting. “You know, some turtles can breathe through their butts. Not me though. But if I could, I’d only do it for you.”

Rise!Raphael (Snapping Turtle)

•Raph is so used to people being scared of him. He’s massive, he’s spiky, he’s got that intimidating edge.

•But when you meet him, you just kind of… blink up at him and say softly, “You’re a common snapping turtle, right?”

•Raph is baffled. “How’d you—”

•And suddenly you’re lighting up as you start talking about the ridged shell, the prehistoric jaw shape, and how snappers have powerful necks with lightning-fast strikes.

•He kind of… melts? Like he’s never had anyone recognize his species in a way that wasn’t fearful.

•You add, “But you’re way friendlier than a snapper usually is. You’re like… a gentle tank.”

•And Raph just turns red. No one’s ever used “gentle” and “snapping turtle” in the same sentence for him before.

•He’s super protective of your special interest. He learns to spot when you’re overwhelmed and helps ground you by letting you gently touch his shell (you tell him the name of each scute and he listens like you’re reciting poetry).

Rise!Donatello (Softshell Turtle)

•Donnie thinks he’s prepared for anything. But when you first meet and don’t flinch or stare, just go, “A softshell! I’ve never seen a living Apalone spinifera so close before!”

•His brain short-circuits.

•You immediately launch into the unique adaptations of softshells: how they’re built for speed, their snorkel-like noses, their leathery skin, and—of course—how sensitive they are to touch and water quality.

•Donnie: “…Are you flirting with me through turtle taxonomy?”

•You: “No, I just like turtles.”

•You: “…But also, yes.”

•He lowkey records your turtle info-dumps and listens to them when he needs to self-regulate.

•You start helping him upgrade his tech with ideas inspired by actual turtle physiology (like better humidity sensors in his suit to mimic softshell needs).

•You two go off on wild biology tangents for hours and the others can’t get a word in.

•“Donnie, did you know some turtles can absorb oxygen through their cloaca?”

•“Babe, if I had a cloacal respiration system, I’d be unstoppable.”

Rise!Michelangelo (Box Turtle)

•Mikey finds you in the lair just casually reading a book titled “Turtles of North America” and doesn’t think much of it.

•Until you look at him and go, “Oh wow, a box turtle. That explains the domed shell! You’re like a walking tank!”

•He GASPS—“You KNOW what kind of turtle I am???”

•You happily rattle off facts about box turtles: their hinged shells, how they’re land-based but still need humid environments, how they can close up completely inside their shells—

•Mikey demonstrates immediately and gets stuck. “Babe, help. The shell got me.”

•You gently help him wiggle out and he’s like this is love.

•He starts calling you his shell-mate.

•You two start a shared turtle scrapbook where you paste pictures, drawings, and funny facts. Mikey adds stickers. You add footnotes.

•You have a habit of using turtle anatomy metaphors when talking to him—like “don’t retreat into your shell” or “your plastron’s showing” (when he’s being vulnerable).

•He responds by lifting your mood with turtle puns 24/7: “You’re turtley amazing,” “Shell yeah,” “You’re the snap to my crackle.”

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keferon · 2 months ago

Note

The fact that Jazz could think that photochromic lenses are used as a sign of being rude with him because of cybertronian culture. And Jazz complaining to someone just to find out that he need them especially outside in order to see.

Fun fact: Because Prowl have light sensibility, he have above average night vision. The only reason to turn on the light on it's to not spooke other people who are awake at night.

Oh man ahahah

As a mech Prowl is packed with sensors. As a human he has very good hearing + the ability to see better in the dark + he knows what Jazz exactly sounds like.

Jazz has this personal quest of sneaking up on Prowl and he keeps failing MISERABLY. Like by Prowl’s standards he is not fucking stealthy ahahdkjf

Prowl: Jazz

……..

Prowl: Jazz I know you’re here. Again.

Jazz: You can’t hear me you’re wearing headphones!

Prowl, taking off the headphones: I can literally see you

Jazz: HOW? It’s dark as fuck in here. Even I can barely see anything what do you mean you just see me??

Prowl: Uh. Not exactly you. More like dark blurry silhouette that vaguely you-shaped. Also you’re really big. Which is hard not to notice

Some other pilot stumbling in the dark: Why the fuck it’s so dark in here

Jazz: Hey man

The Pilot: WHO’S THERE??????

The most successful attempt would be the moment Jazz decides to try the game of hide and seek with his tiny form. He would hide in some stupid place like under Prowl’s bed and then watch Prowl loosing his mind because Jazz is definitely SOMEWHERE around him but he cannot for the life of him tell where EXACTLY.

#Prowl: Jazz??#Prowl: Jazz I know you’re here!#*checks the corridors*#*checks the ceiling*#Prowl: …..where tHE FUCK would a giant robot be able to hide in these tiny quarters #*checks outside the window*#gggguuhhhhhh #Jazz literally under his bed: kekekekekekke

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marlynnofmany · 1 month ago

Text

Dangerous Teeth

As I watched the struggle with the door mechanism, I thought again that it was good we’d gotten our delivery done early. Planetary time zones being what they are, it’s usually inconvenient to land at a spaceport in the pre-dawn, while everyone on our ship is wide awake. Nothing to do but wait until the clients are ready to receive whatever we’re bringing them. Today though, our client was an early riser. I’d taken a short walk from the ship with Mur and Paint, and we’d dropped off three lightweight boxes of exotic moss. Then we were free to stop by the local food court as soon as it opened.

It wasn’t open yet, which is why we’d picked this nice little garden lounge to wait. It was indoors with artificial sun. It had a single door. That door had just thrown a rod or whatever, and now it refused to open again.

I sat on a low bench (awkwardly low) and watched while Mur and a Waterwill who’d also gotten stuck in here pried off the panel over the door mechanism. I would have liked to help somehow, but all my expertise was in biological things, not technological. Plus my fingers were nowhere near as maneuverable as Mur’s tentacles or whatever the Waterwills called their extendable tendrils. This one was making some very tiny ones, not the usual arm-chunks. Fingers would be no help here.

And Paint was handling the phone calls: she’d brought a bag with many pockets, planning to fill it with food, but so far all it contained was her communicator, and she was putting that to good use. She’d already notified our ship. Now she was trying to get ahold of someone official who could send a mechanic. She paced back and forth, rattling claws across her arm scales and speaking intensely.

That left me with nothing to do except sample the local snackberries, which were rooted in a pot next to the bench with a detailed sign about which species could safely eat them. Each branch was grafted from a different plant. There was an elaborate chart on that sign. As usual, the section for humans showed that we could eat every single berry there. Oh, and there were nuts too. Nice.

I tried something like a pistachio with a spiky shell, decided it was extremely average, then entertained myself briefly with the compost can next to the sign. The motion sensor / scanning field at the top of it would open only for acceptable compost. Any other trash was the responsibility of whoever brought it in here. I tossed the two shell halves in one at a time, watched the mini force field blink on and off, then looked for more nuts to do it again.

A quiet hello made me crane my neck in confusion. There was no way the bush could talk, right? Alien gene-splicing wouldn’t have gone that far. But thankfully no, it wasn’t science with questionable morals; it was somebody hiding on the other side.

“Hello!” I said, trying to get a better look. “Sorry, I didn’t see you back there.”

“That’s good,” said the brown-furred fellow huddled among the berries. “Maybe no one else will either.”

I glanced back at the door, but saw just my two coworkers and the Waterwill, none of whom were paying attention. I asked quietly, “Are you hiding from someone specific?”

“No,” he said, not elaborating. He took a mouthful of something green, and for a moment I thought he was eating the leaves of the berry bush, which weren’t on the list of edible items. But he lifted it higher for a second bite, and I could identify a handful of grasslike stuff from a different food pot. The fast-growing lettuce area. A herbivore specialty.

I told him, “I don’t think you have anyone to be afraid of here.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, just looking around with wide eyes and eating the rest of his handful of grass. His teeth were distinctly the gnawing sort. Finally, he asked, “Do you know how long it will take to get the door open?”

“Hard to say.” I turned back to see Mur and the Waterwill talking animatedly, the door still firmly shut. Paint looked like she was on hold. “Hopefully not long. If they can’t figure it out, the maintenance people should be able to open it from the other side.”

“I’ve seen them,” was the quiet response. “They’re scary.”

“The maintenance crew? Scary how?”

The guy got even quieter. “Flesh-eaters. There are so many here. I didn’t know when I came.”

I thought about my answer very carefully. “You know that none of them want to eat you, right? That sort of thing is horrifying to civilized society as a whole.”

The guy twitched his ears, which I hadn’t realized were folded back, in scared rabbit style. “They said that. Not sure if I believe it yet.”

“Society couldn’t function if people went around eating each other!” I insisted. “Think about it. People need to trust one another to some degree, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to cooperate when they’re all living together in the same place. Food comes from the food stores. Anyone who hurts another person intentionally is likely to get in trouble with the authorities. And that’s for small things, much less full-on killing and eating them!”

He twitched his nose, very rabbitlike. “But with all those sharp teeth, don’t they get tempted? Aren’t flesh-eaters hardwired to crave flesh when they’re hungry?”

“Not from other people who can talk back to them,” I said. “And most of the flesh-eaters I know prefer to cook their food.”

He bared his gnawing teeth. “Burning the flesh before they eat it. Horrifying.”

I wanted to ask if his people didn’t cook their food, since plenty of plants gave up more nutrition when softened like that, but I thought better of it. The answer was probably no, and he would ask about my people’s food, and that was a topic I wanted to steer well clear of. The poor guy had seen me eating plants and made an assumption that I wasn’t eager to correct.

Then, in what felt like very bad timing, Paint put her communicator away and walked back over. I winced. For probably the first time ever, I looked at the gentlest person on our ship, and really noticed her sharp teeth and claws.

Paint told me, “They said someone will be on the way soon. I couldn’t get them to specify soon exactly. Somehow this doesn’t seem like a high priority to them.” She frowned.

“That’s unfortunate,” I said. “Would you like to try a berry? There’s a chart here that says which is safe for who.”

“Goodness, what a lot of choices!” Paint looked at the chart, then at the bush. Then she bent down and peered between the branches. “Hello back there!”

The rabbity guy was silent, frozen in place like a very frightened lawn decoration. He didn’t even blink.

I sighed, then told her quietly, “He’s afraid of flesh-eaters.”

Paint looked stricken. “Oh no! Why?”

“Because he’s made of flesh.”

“But so is everybody!” Paint exclaimed. “No one’s going to eat him!” She looked back into the bush. “Nobody wants to eat you. I promise.”

The guy seemed to be making a conscious effort to take deep breaths. “What about them?” he whispered, pointing a paw-hand toward the pair still working on the door. “I heard them talk about the breakfast they’re looking forward to. They mentioned creatures with fur and gnawing teeth.”

“That was—” Paint said. “They didn’t mean you! Mur was talking about an animal from his planet, a little one that’s not a person. They’re about this big, and they meet absolutely none of the criteria for sapient beings.” She held her hands a few inches apart. “He wants to get food from the stalls at the food court like everybody else.”

I nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

Paint nodded even more vigorously. “See? Robin knows. She's the animal expert, the person to ask about which type of creature would attack another.”

I opened my mouth to add something else, but Paint was still talking.

“And her species eats everything, so she knows about it from all sides!”

The guy made a little erk noise, and I sighed. “That’s less helpful,” I told Paint.

She seemed to be realizing that herself. “Sorry,” she said to me, then addressed the guy in the bush. “I thought you knew! But really, that just proves our point. You’ve been next to a flesh-eater all this time, and nobody’s tried to bite you.”

I agreed, “Just these berries.” I popped another one into my mouth, then regretted it. “Ugh, that one’s sour.”

Paint consulted the chart. “I think it’s called a sourbud.”

“That makes sense. Bluh. I got it mixed up with these other whatsits, the sunsweet ones. Similar color.”

“Very different smell, though,” Paint said with sniff like a wine connoisseur.

“Yes, we both know about your sense of smell.”

“Ooh, what are these? They smell amazing.”

The two of us talked for a bit about the various snack plants, deliberately ignoring the quiet rabbit guy, giving him time to process our very nonthreatening attitudes.

I was starting to suspect that he’d stay hidden in the bush until the maintenance crew came and went, but eventually there was a quiet rustle of leaves. With his eyes still wide and his motions timid, he took a seat on the far end of the bench.

Paint was still standing, and greeted him from a safe distance. “Good to see you! Would you like a berry? We can help you find the best ones.”

He was very brave and said yes. We consulted the chart and his preferences in flavor, and spent a few friendly minutes selecting berries. When it became clear that we weren’t going to make any surprise lunges at him, he gradually relaxed. His ears really did look like a rabbit’s when he let them stand up straight.

Mur yelled, “Aha!”

I looked up to see him with most of his tentacles braced against the wall, pulling hard on something that looked like a cable. I worried that he was about to either electrocute himself or destroy the mechanism completely, then I saw the small leaves.

It was a vine, and it had grown up inside the electronics panel. The various plants lined up along the wall looked carefully cultivated, but somebody had missed this one. If the leaves sprouting from the flowerpot closest to the door were as familiar as they looked, then that was probably the culprit. The visible plants were all wrapped around a decorative spiral frame. I had a sneaking suspicion that the drainage holes at the bottom of that pot were big enough for rebellious roots to sneak out, and take unauthorized journeys.

Mur called, “Anybody got a blade? This is a tough one.”

“I don’t. Paint?” I asked.

She shook her head. “I only brought the communicator. Too bad we don’t have Zhee or Trrili with us. They could probably make short work of it.”

While their praying mantis blade arms could have done it, I thought of a better idea. I said with a smile, “You know who else could? Our friend here with the gnawing teeth.”

He looked startled, but not afraid. “What, me?”

“Sure! Out of everyone here, you’re the only one whose teeth are built for slicing through tough plants with ease. Care to show us how it’s done and save the day?”

It took a little encouraging, but not as much as I’d expected. We checked the signage near the pot first, just to be sure I wasn’t urging him to chew on something toxic, and we confirmed that this was the same type of plant. Mur hauled as much of it into the open as he could, which wasn’t much. The Waterwill held various door bits in place. Then the rabbity guy stepped forward and was brave enough to put his head close to Mur’s tentacles.

He bit through the vine with a couple of swift chomps, separating the middle segment right where Mur had suggested.

“Nice work!” Mur said, moving the remainder of the vine. “Now we can tuck the rest of this nonsense to the side and reassemble the parts where they’re supposed to be.”

The Waterwill said, “Already on it,” reshaping one water tendril and maneuvering it around like a locksmith.

Paint looked up at the hero of the hour, who was still holding the segment of vine. “Hooray, you did it! Do you want more berries to celebrate?”

“Yes please,” he said, still breathing a little quickly. “That tasted terrible.”

We got him some of the berries that he liked best, then heard a promising klunk and more celebration. The door trundled open.

Mur made cheerful burbling noises. “Go team!”

“Quick, everybody out before it does something else bizarre!” said the Waterwill, immediately scooting out into the open.

Nobody was about to argue that point. We all hurried outside to where we wouldn’t be trapped again, then waved goodbye to the Waterwill. Paint called the officials back with an update on what kind of problem the mechanics would need to fix.

Mur said, “I’m off to the food court. It’ll definitely be open by now.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” I told him.

He spun off in a whirl of tentacles. I looked down at the rabbity fellow, who looked small now that I was standing up. But he stood taller than he had all morning.

I said, “Thanks again.”

He twitched his ears happily and said, “It was my pleasure!” He sounded a bit surprised by that.

“Off to get your own breakfast?”

He nodded decisively. “Yes. And no one’s going to bite me.”

“Right!” I agreed. “Even if they did, you could bite them right back!”

He smiled a fierce little rabbit smile, then scampered off into the spaceport.

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

#my writing #The Token Human #humans are weird #and so are the aliens #haso #hfy #eiad #humans are space orcs #science fiction

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eyelambspider · 9 months ago

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𝐑𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐡.𝟐 — 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠

Part One || Part Two

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : Leaving the Cyberlife store is an... experience for the broken android. After the workforce and standing idle in the store for so long, you finally bring König home, where he learns what it would mean to be your companion. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.3 k 𝐚/𝐧 : sincerely, thank you all for the lovely comments and interactions on the first chapter ♡ (my android son is so cute ahgkgj-) 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 : fluff, hurt/comfort(?), domestic fluff, slow burn?

𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋. They had no programming to want. There were no lines of code that enabled them to dream. They were machines built to serve.

In theory, an android should not feel fear.

The WX-400, or König, glanced down at where your hand met his. The synthetic skin clasping imperceptibly onto yours. So warm and soft... and so much smaller in his own.

It kept him grounded when you guided him onto the sleek floors of the store, his sensors coming alight with all the new input his body was receiving. From being stuck in a paralyzing stasis, to feeling the cool spring sun on his skin; the slight chill of the store in his mouth; seeing the detailed cracks embedded into the pavement of the sidewalk.

His body felt like it was short circuiting. Jolted to life too fast, even if you had only led him to the curb. That soft smile on your face when he looked for assurance, still holding onto him.

What would happen if he let go? It didn't feel right to think that way. He was sure the world would not stop spinning below his feet if he did.

"König?"

Your voice made him snap out of it. Those stormy eyes of his hesitantly trailing up to meet yours.

"This is our ride," you tilted your head, gesturing to the polished self-driving car that sat on the corner of the street.

He didn't respond. Eyes flickering away, still holding onto your hand. It was a cute gesture. Maybe he just forgot to stop holding it? Or maybe the android didn't feel comfortable letting go without permission?

Hm...

You decided then: owning an android was hard.

The entire ride back to the house was a mix of stolen glances. Each entirely new to the other.

You, watching the way his soft eyes followed the people passing by on the street. Androids and humans alike. Watching, but never saying a word.

König was a sight to behold, and the smile that crawled onto your lips was inevitable.

Such a large android. Tall and built with the purpose of lifting ten times that of the average human... moving so gently, and with a hesitance for the world you'd only ever seen in stray animals.

And occasionally, when he felt you shift to watch your own window or the red-green lights of traffic. He'd consider you from the corner of his eye. Unreadable, before you could catch him and his eyes snapped back forwards.

People and buildings passed by in a blur of lights. Shops and a park filled with trees. Androids always obediently trailing after the humans who owned them, unable to do much but smile and tend to the children or shopping bags. Task after task, demand after demand.

When the car stopped at a red light, his eyes landed on a small girl, her pink rain jacket covered in a light sprinkle of rain. Jumping in every puddle she could with a giggle. The young android next to her, a dark-skinned man with long hair, smiled and did the same with her. Each taking a turn splashing gently in a puddle, unaware of the rest of the world around them, only enjoying the remnants of the rain.

Something in that image, the adoring smile on the android's face as he watched the girl play in innocent bliss, it stirred something for a long while, even after the car began to roll away.

He didn't know where the two of you were going. The thought of 'home' having no real meaning to him.

Back at the sites, the company only had two trucks to house their android workers. Rows of three in each truck, filled with small metal compartments for the mechanical men to stand in idly until the next job. Under lock and chain, so nobody stole company property, with no light except the one that blinked from his LED...

Soon, the commercial buildings melted into a quaint suburban neighborhood. Run down houses, but clearly lived in, with warm lights filling their windows.

Many had been put out of work due to the rise of android labor. He had heard one of the site managers complaining about it often.

König's eyes flickered over you for a moment again.

Did you work? Have a home or a family to go back to? People you lived with?

"We're here," you gestured sheepishly, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out of the car. Your hand finally slipping from his.

'Here' was a two story house with peeling paint and a handful of missing shingles. It looked like the surrounding houses. Puddles and mud around the sunken walkway from the rain, nothing but scrawny hedges growing yet.

König followed suit, ducking his head low to climb out of the car unscathed, towering back to his full height. Maybe the tallest android model built, at an impressive six foot ten inches.

He noticed you staring and his eyes hit the ground.

He was just-an amazing looking android, and his height was only more impressive to you. It was really hard not to smile. An android...

"Come on," you waved for him to follow you.

The closer you both got, the more he could see the wear. The fogged windows, the flickering outside light. Up the wooden porch that creaked dangerously under his weight, to the solid front door. That looked new.

"Well, here it is, home," you shrugged, the front door swinging open for the two of you.

"I just moved in," you explain as the android stepped through the doorframe to join you (having to bow his head again), peered around curiously. "The house is a bit old, but I'm going to fix it up for us," you nodded, looking around at the expanse of cardboard boxes in the living room. So sure of yourself.

Us?

The circular LED on his temple flickered yellow, a sign of stress that disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Here," you held your hand out for him, producing a small silver key for him to take. "House key," you explained with a sort of bounce in your toes.

It was for him, he realized.

He tilted his head, taking it from your hand, cool fingers brushing against yours as he considered you. Again.

You looked really... How should he describe it? Happy? Excited?

And you were. You had a house. A beautiful house that just needed a bit of care put into it, and an android unlike any you'd ever seen to help you make it a home.

"Well, I'd show you around but there's not much," you scratched at your neck with a sigh. It was a big house, just empty so far, and for the amount of stuff you had brought... You'd need a lot more to make it homey like you intended when you purchased the house.

You led him down the hall, shoes tapping against the wooden floorboards, dust lining the floors, but the house actually looked pretty sturdy to him.

"There's the living room, connects to the kitchen," you listed off as you walked by, "Washroom, and the basement door." You finished, pointing off to the left until you made it to the end of the hall. Still peering ahead towards a back door. Also new, he noted.

"Up the stairs is my room and a couple of... well empty rooms," you shrugged.

You had a lot on your plate, granted. Your eyes skimming over the backyard with a sigh. If you wanted flowers this year, they'd have to be planted fast... with the rest of the house to do, how hard could it be?

You spun around and faced König with a soft optimism, leading him back to the living room.

"Well, lets start with some of the bigger boxes," you nodded, the plan seeming to come together in your mind. "The movers did most of the heavy lifting, so I don't have to worry about pushing a mattress upstairs or moving all those dressers..."

It was true, there was a large cream colored couch already in the living room, along with a large white TV stand pushed against the wall.

It looked almost as big as you were, and the android found it a fitting comparison. Imagining you pushing that thing all by yourself just- didn't work in his mind.

König followed your lead, starting with the box on top of the pile that trailed along the hallway. Each one labelled quickly in sharpie.

Photos, Decorations, Dishes, Cleaning Supplies, Towels. All stuff that looked like it was supposed to be downstairs.

König decided though, to stick to the living room, carefully cutting open the taped up boxes with a precision that seemed impressive. Even manual. Carefully laying out photos and old picture frames you had decided were important.

There were a few that caught his eye. His slate colored irises lingering on your face as you smiled or laughed in a few of them. Surrounded by what he deduced were your closest friends or family members... all based on how happy you looked, or how you moved your hands to hold each person.

"You can leave the bigger ones aside König."

He nearly jumped.

"I'll put them up later," you assured him.

He glanced over his shoulder, where you now sat on the floor, fiddling with some small box in your hand.

He looked back to the photo's, a bit more hesitant to touch them now before he set them back into the box and turned towards you. The circular LED on his temple fluttering a yellow.

"I could put them up for you," he offered quietly. Given a drill or nails for them, it wouldn't take that long. In fact, the tools might've even felt familiar in his hand.

The sound of his voice, soft but rich and deep made you smile so wide he thought he had said something out of line.

He shouldn't have questioned you, he realized the mistake. His deeply scarred hands imperceptibly clasping into loose fists at his sides.

"Thank you," you began, "You could do that after we paint the walls tomorrow," you nodded, glancing around at the dim room around the two of you. "I was thinking maybe a light green? Or maybe even a smoky color?" you thought aloud, clearly having been undecided on the matter.

The LED turned blue again. The tension in his body suddenly melting away as you thanked him.

"Do you have a good color in mind?" You asked him then, suddenly wondering if androids had opinions. Or more specifically, if König did.

He shook his head quickly.

"No... favorite ones?"

And he shook his head again, his eyes fluttering downward. Was he... supposed to have one?

You only offered another soft smile, figuring as much. "We'll both come up with something," you assured quietly. Those soft eyes of yours trailing back up to him as you finally undid the box in your lap, pulling out a carefully wrapped vase. The beautiful glossy ceramic glinting in the fading light from the windows. Holding it up for him to take.

"It's going to be easier with you around," you joked softly, but it seemed true. The depth of your words had a faith in him that felt... unfamiliar.

He took the vase gently from your hands, his eyes flickering around as if he meant to say something, before he quietly turned and put it down onto a small table.

He returned to doing as you instructed, placing all of the big things into the room, leaving the walls bare for now.

The rest of the hours went by like that, you occasionally stopping to ask him something that seemed profound to his android brain.

Why would you want to know if he had a favorite animal? Or if he liked music?

What use could he have for preferences like that?

But he always answer politely, if not curtly, until the living room at least had the lights and the TV connected.

You sat down onto the couch with a huff, taking a moment to relax after the long day you'd had.

In truth, buying and owning an android never really seemed to have priority. This house did.

You glanced over at König, who was still working away quietly. Folding empty cardboard boxes up neatly and setting them aside for recycling.

"König."

He stopped when you addressed him, turning his attention back to you before he could grab another box and continue. Waiting for another command.

But, he was working too hard.

You patted the spot on the couch next to you.

And when he didn't move or seem to understand the gesture, your face lit up in amusement. "Come sit, relax for a bit," you trailed off. He was an android, sure, but it didn't mean... well that he was a machine.

The thought made your chest feel heavy suddenly. It was easy, with how human-like they looked, to forget that they weren't human.

The large android did as you said and sat down. The cushions dipping beneath him and making you lean that way with a small laugh.

He was so rigid, even for an android. Sitting up straight, scarred hands on his knees, not even leaning against the back of the couch. Unsure really what to do without someone's input.

'Relax?' Did he really know how to?

König watched you from the corner of his eye again as you flicked on the TV. Your feet pulled up, sinking comfortably into the cushions. Your knees almost brushing his.

It reminded him of the store, only a few hours earlier.

How warm you were next to him, and how that smile lingered on your lips as you watched the TV tiredly.

The moment you turned to catch his gaze, he straightened again, eyes forward, pretending to watch the screen. His LED blinking that sunny yellow.

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. ♡

@riotakire @jonathansmarbles @peter-the-pan @distinguishedprincesstrash @sleepyisoffline

@asteria33 @timetothirst @sleeplessskeleton @lady-boketto @mionacaped

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ventique18 · 1 year ago

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The first years (and Malleus because he forced himself into their friend group) encounter shapeshifters in the woods! For some reason, they decided to mimic you, so now your friends have to double check who's the original one before destroying the rest. It actually goes smoothly because...

🐉: "A clone with a different eye color, another one a few inches shorter than my beloved! Why, another one has a completely different body shape-- what grave insults! how dare you call yourselves friends?"

🐺: "Don't those make this task easier? Why are you mad?"

🐊: "IGNORANT HUMAN! Shapeshifters harvest memories from those around the victim. WHICH MEANS MOST OF YOU DO NOT REMEMBER WHAT YOUR FRIEND LOOKS LIKE!"

🌸: "Why's there a version of me who looks dumb as hell? I don't space out and drool at the sky what the f--"

🐊: "YOU DID GET A BARELY PASSING GRADE DURING OUR LAST QUIZ--"

🌸: "SO THAT VISION'S YOURS?! SEBEK, YOU!!"

It was easy to eliminate most of the clones, until a very particular one completely stumps everyone, including Malleus. From the height to the weight, to even a few birthmarks on your belly-- everything is in the exact same place.

🍎: "Oh no, I wonder what we should do? Maybe Ortho can use his sensors to find flaws in what we can't see?"

🤖: "I've finished scanning. Both of them share the same average body heat and pulse rate. The clone is a perfect replica."

🌸: "Honestly, why would it be that hard? Malleus knows for sure that I'm the real one. Right?"

"You" pull his arm in an embrace; affectionately rubbing your body against him and even dipping your fingertips over his carefully-clothed collarbone. You lean up to give him a kiss--

♠️: "Uhm. I think that's the one."

❤️: "Yeah, that one's definitely the imposter. Only one person here would have those kinda memories."

Malleus receives a collective, disappointed side eye from the crowd. Except for Sebek, of course, who remains petrified by what he just saw.

#grim isn't with them #his baby brain shouldn't see this clown show #twisted wonderland #ventique rambles #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #ace trappola #deuce spade #epel felmier #jack howl #ortho shroud #sebek zigvolt

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ruershrimo · 1 year ago

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down bad fr | f.megumi x reader

@takumifujiwarastan remember how a while back you said here that it sucked how there weren't enough introverted girls, reserved girls etc. SO I did try writing this please enjoy their (gn reader woooo) emotional constipation even though the reticence of their personality isn't really highlighted eurgh

having a crush on megumi is so fucking stupid. it’s driving you insane.

you can’t even talk to him. everything he does, everything he says— your heart leaps like a rabbit he casts, and your emotions soar into a terrifyingly messy mishmash of confusion and yearning and infatuation, and then everything in between.

you feel helpless, vulnerable like this— rendered out of control of your feelings after years of emotional constipation and a harsh strictness on yourself to rein them in like a rowdy horse being whipped during derby matches. you’re a climber, you’re hanging precariously from a cliff with every interaction, a child standing before a blueprint with nothing but toy blocks and a kiddie hammer, a roomba with its sensors malfunctioning— you get the point. those were enough metaphors to delineate your predicament.

well, he doesn’t even like you anyway, right?

but you want him so badly.

you just want to hammer it into his thick skull. to just go, ‘hey, I like you even if you may not like me! just go out with me anyway!’

yet with each interaction you struggle even more. because how the hell do you confess to fushiguro megumi, much less go out with him and become his partner?

for years romance had remained nothing but a velleity, a nice fantasy you could slip into when your mind demanded respite in the form of escapism and jejune daydreams. but now that your adoration for him has made it all somewhat possible, you don’t know what to do— your control is being tended away from you, and the worst part is that you don’t even mind it that much.

spiky black hair and eyelashes of silk pass you by, his scent as clean as freshly laundered sheets in hotels. at the start you had thought little about him beyond him being your classmate and eventually just your confidante. yet gradually, you surprised yourself. and everything about him is attractive nowadays: his hair, his pearlescent teeth, the viridian hue of his eyes— hell, he made even the way he drank coffee look like a model of a man in an antediluvian monochrome film of the sixties. and it was so normal, so average, that you were about to slap yourself for the fact that an everyday trait of his had become something so lovely to look at just because it was him. megumi would hold the cup securely by his lithe fingers, the same one he spouted cursed energy from when summoning his shikigami, before lifting the cup up and bringing the brim to his mouth, his lips that never chapped.

nobara asks whether he’s drinking black coffee to look cool around and attract people. needless to say, at least you were attracted.

you hoped he didn’t see the way your face must have blanked out, gaze transfixed on his eyes as he took swigs from his mug.

why’d he have to be like that?!

megumi continued looking at ozawa, the girl who had a crush on itadori— she was just like you for real, but with double the courage and half the emotional constipation.

you hoped it would work out for her. that way, perhaps you could muster the strength and bravery to do the same, too.

you take another look at him. he’s really pretty. had you kicking your feet in the air and all and then screaming in horror because of it, had you wrapped around his finger without even knowing.

with the help of kugisaki and megumi, ozawa and itadori, the two of them are cajoled to go around tokyo together. it’s the best ‘date’ that the two of them can help the other two have, especially since itadori is dense as rocks (megumi’s probably worse based on your experiences, then) and ozawa is as shy as a touch-me-not flower.

“oh, and [name],” megumi starts while nobara strolls ahead, all set to begin a new shopping spree.

“ah— uh, yeah?” you stammer.

“do you like me? romantically, I mean…” he scratches the back of his neck.

what the fuck. is this seriously happening? right now?

“huh? what? I—”

“no, it’s just that— seeing ozawa made me think. I guess I never considered it an option, but I suppose I have had… feelings for you for a pretty long time…”

“woah. ah, sorry, I meant— sorry, I’m just very surprised…” you scramble, your hands gesticulating all kinds of things in an exaggerated way of taking it back because yes you like him, you like him a lot— “I mean, I do like you! it’s just, fuck— uh, what do I say— I’m really scared. I thought you didn’t reciprocate at all.”

“I could tell. but I…” he hesitates, “I overthought everything,” then with a frown, he goes, “gojo would have teased me if he was here.”

“well, I– uh. we’re lucky he isn’t, I guess?” you pause, “...so what do we do now? are we a thing? are we dating? wait, am I going too fast? I, oh my goodness, I—”

“would you like to?” he asks. your knees are about to buckle with every second he keeps his eyes on yours.

“I…— well, I would.”

“then it’s settled. can I— can I hold your hand, please?”

“...okay.”

with trepidation in your hands and your heart pounding in your chest, you inch your hands closer, saline sweat on them as if you’d dipped it into the sea. he keeps his gaze on yours— they’re as unsure as you are, his cheeks a slight scarlet, his eyes swirling with nervousness but a sliver of anticipation, of joy and relief. so he feels exactly the same as you do, then.

his fingers find yours after a while, tracing along the lines of your palm like a blind man touching something for the first time. you want to learn to love and to memorise each nook and cranny of him starting with his palm, and for once emotional vulnerability is not that bad.

kugisaki’s in for a shock as soon as she turns around. first it was itadori potentially having a partner before she does, and now megumi?

imagine writing this because of being delulu abt an irl crush (i should be studying for my exams.) haha couldn't be me right (i'm so cooked)

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #jjk megumi #megumi imagine #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ruer writes #megumi fluff

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sleepymarimo · 9 months ago

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(lowkey…lame!)tojix fem!reader // sfw, a little funny, mostly fluff // first meeting. toji is awkward and doesn’t know how to flirt with someone he’s actually interested in…

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t believe in love at first sight, not really.

so, he isn’t really sure why his heart does this thing when he happens to stroll past you.

it’s a pretty average day for him.

his pockets are empty, his clothes in need of a washing, and his hair is only tamed by the brushing of his scarred fingers. toji isn’t particularly happy- how could he be, after he lost another bet?- but his brows remain in a neutral position, his expression one of boredom, of a man just blowing through life.

shinjuku is busy and, as he turns a corner, his verdant eyes meet yours for a split second before he continues walking.

then, he feels it. that thump thump in his chest that makes his steps falter for a second.

but even that’s too long for him.

he pulls off into a small side street, growing wary almost instantly. confusing interest for instinct, toji wonders if you’re a sorcerer, if you’re someone be needs to keep tabs on.

you’d smiled at him, but it wasn’t a real smile. no, it was one of those ‘polite’ smiles, a toothless curling of the lips that’s exchanged for formalities more than anything else.

peering from behind the wall, he can see you standing there without a care in the world, your eyes now glued to your phone as you shift your weight back and forth on your heels. the assassin can tell by your posture that you’re not exactly a threat, but he remains unusually tense, almost… hesitant?

you’re waiting in line, some people standing in front and behind you, but it looks like you’re alone. turning his head to catch a glimpse of the store, he resists the urge to roll his eyes as he realizes you’re waiting for a cafe to open, a popular new bakery with all sorts of sweets.

yet, he tries to turn this situation into one that will benefit him.

maybe he could use his charm to worm himself onto another couch? your couch? maybe his instincts, that weird feeling rattling between his ribs, is telling him that you’re an easy target.

then he looks down at himself and, for some reason, he’s unsure.

toji has never been one to fuss over appearances. he’s positive that he can win people over; it’s a skill he’s learned to master, a skill that keeps him hopping from place to place. even covered in dirt or blood, he’s found ways to slip himself into beds, so this shouldn’t be any different.

but it is different.

his unkempt hair and unwashed clothes haven’t bothered him before. however, there’s a sort of… insecurity there now. it’s as if he finds himself wanting to look good, he wants to be presentable, he wants to hold your attention.

glancing at you once more, toji figures he has ten, maybe fifteen minutes before you’re first in line, or inside, and his chance with you fizzles out like a poorly lit flame. it makes him feel strange, and not in a good way.

scanning the surrounding area, he makes a beeline for a restroom, an idea forming in his brain. it’s just to make sure he has a place to crash tonight, he tells himself. what he’s thinking has nothing to do with his flipping stomach and skipping heart.

once he enters, his shirt is promptly removed and placed under the running water of one of the sensor activated faucets. he scrubs furiously at a stain on the front (he’s pretty sure it’s dried okonomi sauce from the takoyaki he’d eaten maybe two days prior), using a couple pumps of hand soap to work away at it.

a few other bathroom goers glance at the assassin with concern, reluctance. one gives him a sort of disapproving look, but toji stares back with apathetic eyes, nodding his head toward the exit. after all, it’s not like anyone is going to say anything to a shirtless man littered in scars.

it takes a few rinses and globs of soap, but the stain is removed. now, his shirt is just sopping wet.

luckily, a few strong wrings and a couple of runs under the hand dryer gets the shirt to where it needs to be. or at least he thinks so.

the fabric is a little moist against his skin as he shrugs it back on, meeting his gaze in the mirror as he focuses on his hair. he doesn’t remember when he’d washed it last, but the shine and flatness say enough.

with a sigh, he looks back at the faucet and soap dispenser. if it worked for his shirt…

five minutes later, toji finally exits the restroom.

his hair isn’t completely dry, patches of the black strands still drenched with water. he swears he’s been under the dryer for hours, craning his neck in all sorts of ways to get each section.

he looks like a madman when he walks into a cologne store adjacent to the cafe, the employees about ready to call security. toji isn’t really bothered by their stares, but he’s annoyed with himself for how much he cares.

he doesn’t know you, but apparently something in his gut tells him that he should.

after taking whiffs of a few scents, he spritzes himself numerous times with a sample bottle he finds tolerable (and he hopes you like it, too).

toji doesn’t feel entirely like himself when steps back onto the streets and approaches the cafe. for a moment he scowls when he doesn’t see you outside anymore.

did he miss his chance? he almost hopes he did, as it would mean he could shed off this odd feeling as one would a badly fitting coat.

then, he looks a little closer and notices you seated by the window. drink in one hand, phone in the other, you seem to be doing just fine. hell, you’re there, and that’s all that really matters to him.

he doesn’t have the money for a drink, yet that doesn’t stop him. toji improvises, passing by a trash can where a few discarded cups are still partially filled by whatever caffeinated beverage their precious owner requested. it’s good enough, he thinks, having eaten, drank, worse.

taking the seat next to you is one of the hardest things he’s ever done, like a rookie actor following his first big script.

usually he can break the ice with an accidental touch- a grazing of arms, a bumping of elbows- but he can’t even touch you. he can feel your warmth though, and he’s drawn in even before you can register his presence.

he clears his throat and shifts on his stool, the wood creaking loudly, his cup crinkling under his grip. it’s an awkward mess, unlike his usual interactions.

your head turns and you look at him for a second time. (do you even recognize him from just minutes earlier? he wonders.)

and you do remember him. how could you not? you’d pulled out your phone not even a second after he’d walked past you, your fingers typing away as you sent a message to your best friend. ‘dude, this guy just walked past me at the coffee shop and…’

well, you weren’t the only one who’d made an impression.

toji thinks he looks better than he has in days, clothes and hair washed, smelling expensive. meanwhile, you’re hoping that this man, his hair damp, his semi-soaked shirt partially clinging to his frame, his cologne much too strong, isn’t planning on doing anything weird.

“uh…” he starts, no particular plan in mind, his tongue twisted.

there’s an almost painful silence as he figures out what to say. what the hell is wrong with him?

and you, you just give him these big doe eyes that make the tips of his ears turn red.

“…the stuff here any good?” he asks, the usually rough timbre of his voice quelled by nerves.

and be out of courtesy, interest, or wariness, you reply.

he gets the groove of things, falls into conversation and happens to tug you along with him. even when customers start to filter out, you’re both sitting there, backs against the world and focused on one another.

and, in a few years, it becomes a silly story, a cherished memory.

of course, he always denies ever being nervous.

an: this has been stuck in my head for so long and I needed to get it out >.< awkward toji!! he can’t flirt for real!!

#toji fluff #fushiguro toji x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #pls don’t perceive me!!#I think he’s so neat

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