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cherrycranes · 7 months ago

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The Perfect Gift (Chris x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Chris O´Doyle x Fem!Reader Summary: It´s christmas eve and you´re stuck at the airport because of the snow. Thankfully, a handsome stranger will make sure that you don´t spend your christmas alone.... Word count: 3,548 Contents: (Minors DNI). Drinking/tipsy sex, tit play, unprotected sex, cream pie, semi public sex. Author's notes: A new collab with @fuckiingloser. The draft of this fic has been in the backburner for over a month now. Also, I´m 90% sure that O´Doyle is a fan-given last name but it´s ok, it´s canon to me. Mandatory "english is not my first language" disclaimer. Pinterest moodboard and a playlist at the end so you can visualize!

The heels of your white tall boots clicked loudly over the near emptiness of the Boston Logan Airport. Luck was seemingly not on your side that night. It was christmas eve of 1977 and the snow storm outside had intended to hold you back for long. Your flight to Chicago had been canceled and no taxis were running this late with the weather. Against your will, you would have to spend your christmas eve and christmas morning on one of those uncomfortable terminal seats until another flight became available.

Resigned, you walked towards a more secluded part of the dead airport. A small handful of people were asleep in chairs, smoking or reading a book. What at your arrival had been a chaotic, bustling center was now a still image of patience.

You set down your bags, thankfully a few vending machines were nearby. The packaged snacks were a far cry from a christmas dinner, but enough to keep you at ease. Quietly, you settled down on an empty chair and opened a book, the words your only company as you ate from a crinkly little bag.

The story was interesting, you had barely had time to read more than a few pages during your stay in Boston, so your curiosity aided your distraction. Time started to flow as fast as the snow outside fell. The howling wind and sometimes a few distant coughs or murmurs were imperceptible to your rolling imagination. It wasn’t until a masculine irish voice spoke to you, that you got pulled out of your trance.

“Excuse me, miss…” You looked up from the page to see a rather handsome man standing next to you. “Just wondering if this seat is taken?” He asked with a small smirk. You looked around, and confirmed that in your time distracted nothing had changed. The sea of empty seats still surrounded you. Yet, this handsome stranger wanted to sit right next to you…

You smirked back, taking in the sight of him: the shaggy brown hair, the perfect blue eyes, the sexy moustache. He was wearing a dark brown leather jacket, a button up shirt and dark pants. The preview of what you assumed to be a catholic golden medal peeked out from the confines of his shirt. He stood there with a confidence that was difficult to ignore.

“It's not taken…” You spoke with a smile, trying to not blush.

Your eyes discreetly roamed over his frame as he set down his bag and sat right next to you. The man was confident, he didn’t hesitate to face you right away and look over you, his pale blue eyes fixated on your mini skirt and the exposed softness of your legs that ended with your tall boots. Then, when his gaze went back up, he followed the curve of your black turtleneck and your chest, your lack of bra so noticeable it was almost endearing. In the end, he finally admired your beautiful face in all its glory.

“Couldn’t have a pretty thing like you all by yourself on christmas eve... So I figured I'd keep you company for the night…” The handsome stranger said with a cocky smile.

“How sweet of you…” You replied with a soft little laugh. Any other man who would have tried that on you wouldn’t have seen such cuteness from you, but he was just so good looking and so sincere. The airport atmosphere, while quiet, was not completely empty. And he was right, you could use the company on this lonely christmas eve…

His name was Chris O’Doyle, and your ears hadn’t fooled you, he was as Irish as whiskey. Dublin born and raised and very proud of it. His deep, confident voice made you forget all about your book as you caught all his flirty hints and returned the sentiment. What a shame this was temporary, the snow canceled his flight as well, and just like you, he would wait until the morning for things to get better. The only difference was that you would get on a plane to your home in Chicago and Chris to his home in Dublin.

“What brought you to Boston?” You asked, prompting a smile out of him.

“Just some business.” Chris said ominously, not giving any more details and no hints present in his body language. “What about you, love?”

“I was here to see a friend for the week.” You answered simply with a little smile.

“A boyfriend?” He questioned with an eyebrow raised, curiosity and a faint mixture of caution and the foundations of healthy envy breaking a simmer in him.

“No boyfriend…” You laughed a little with a headshake. “I was visiting a friend who just had a baby, actually.” Chris grinned at your answer, the simmer cooling off.

“Gotta say… I’m shocked that a pretty girl like you isn’t spoken for… But I guess it’s my lucky day…” It was hard to not feel the heat making your cheeks burn and the space between your legs tingle when he said that. Damn him for being so charming, and damn him for having those beautiful attentive pale blue eyes that made you understand why there was a whole song named like that. You crossed your legs in an attempt to snuff out the burning desire you had for this handsome stranger.

“I guess so…” You flirted back, and his smile grew. Goodbye to your attempt to keep your desires in check.

Chris leaned in a bit closer to you, engulfed in the conversation and anchored to your gaze. In between words, he decided to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear very gently, the warmth brewing between you making you forget about the freezing hell outside.

The passage of time was imperceptible in his company, the silence of the airport felt even comforting in a way, nobody to interrupt his flirty jokes, his talks about life in Ireland and his full undivided attention towards you. Not hard to believe you had grown infatuated with this handsome Irishman in the course of an hour.

“I was saving this for the plane ride...” Chris murmured, a little secret between the two of you. He reached down into his bag and pulled out a silver flask. “But I figure if we’ve gotta spend the night shacked up in the airport… We could have a little fun, hm? Whaddaya say?”

His deep voice made everything inside you scream “yes”, but your actions just made you nod calmly with an accepting smirk. You took the flask and took a swig that made your throat burn. You coughed, whatever alcohol that was, it had nothing to do with the fun martinis and beer you were used to. Chris chuckled heartily at the face you made.

“That's real irish whiskey love. Strong stuff.” He announced really late, a laugh still echoing in his words. He took the flask from your hands and downed some of it for himself like it was water.

Even if it had almost set your throat on fire, you sucked it up, taking turns sharing the flask with him until only one sip remained. Chris, being a gentleman, gave it to you, the last act of chivalry that survived since the whiskey made him progressively more touchy with you. His calloused fingertips brushed against your knee, then his hand gradually rested on it. Soon enough his entire palm laid comfortably over the soft flesh of your thigh, strategically positioned so it covered all your exposed skin and not the fabric of your skirt. But even tipsy and handsy, Chris still listened to you.

“God, you’re just gorgeous…” he said somewhat out of the blue, making you smile, your face already warm thanks to the whiskey. “Pretty face… Even prettier body…” he added, his voice husky and heavily accented, caressing your ears like velvet and like his hand caressed your thigh. Your pussy immediately clenched at the touch of his rough palm.

Chris’ attention, for the first time in a while, diverted from your face and found the clock upon the wall. It read 2 minutes after midnight.

“Well, would ya look at that? it’s christmas…” He announced, turning back to look into your eyes. “A pretty girl like you should always get a gift on christmas day…”

His thumb rubbed slow circles over your thigh. His eyes gleamed, locked on yours.

“...and I think I have just the idea for the perfect present…” He whispered, and with that, his smile turned into a devious smirk. He stood up firmly and held his hand out to you, tempting the devils out of you.

“C'mon.. follow me, love.” Chris smiled just so charmingly, you didn’t think twice. Whiskey and charm were such a powerful tool for you. Happily, you obliged and took his hand, leaving the emptiness of the dead airport until a sign appeared in front of your eyes: Maintenance Closet.

Chris took a chance and discovered the door was unlocked, a rush of cocky triumph running in his veins.

“After you, love.” He practically purred to you and you made your way into the small room. Shelves of cleaning products, mops, brooms and a small desk tucked in the corner welcomed you two in between the dim light.

With the door locked behind you, Chris slowly started to back you against the wall, keeping you well placed between his chest and a safety poster hanging there.

“I-I’ve never done anything like this before… Always been a good girl...” You spoke so softly, playing the innocent angel when you knew very well your panties were getting wetter by the second. He smiled as if he could tell, one hand coming up to touch your hip and the other stroking your cheek in delight.

“Well… Being naughty gets you on my nice list...” His whisper was magnetic, imperceptibly so, you didn’t know when you leaned so close to him, to his whiskey lips. “Now let me give you that present I promised you…”

Without another word his lips crashed against yours, his tongue slipped into your warm mouth like it belonged there and tangled with yours. Your soft hands buried in his curls for some needed leverage, desperation soaking the kiss. You groaned softly when his body pressed harder against you, sandwiching you between his torso and the wall and making you feel his hard cock through his jeans.

You both knew just how risky this was, whoever worked in this closet would definitely come back at some unknown time, the possibility of it happening while Chris fucked you was just as slim as it was huge. But, in the very end, with your cunt clenching around nothing and his tongue swirling hotly in your mouth, you did not care at all if anyone found you.

Chris shared the sentiment, his teeth gently nipped at your lower lip and pulled it deliciously before releasing it to whisper in your ear.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty pussy till you come all over my cock…” He purred, his words going straight to your already aching cunt and making you moan a little. Pleased by your reaction, Chris’ hand pushed up your skirt over your hips and exposed the black lace panties underneath.

“Mmm, you like that idea, huh?” He asked, moving to look into your eyes with a smirk. The pride of making a beautiful woman like you feel like this with mere words made his chest swell. His thumb found its way right to your clothed clit and gave it an experienced rub. The texture of the lace and the size of his fingertip sent a jolt of electricity to you, and more slick to your needy cunt.

“Fuck- you’re already soaked..” He said with a smirk. “All that because of me?” You nodded eagerly, it was the whole and only truth.

“All for you…” You whispered back, another roll of his thumb on your clit making you moan. Chris smiled, more than satisfied with your submission.

“You won’t be needing these anymore.” He whispered, pushing your panties down until they were a puddle on the well cleaned floor. Instinctively, you stepped out of them, and Chris couldn’t resist the temptation of picking them up and shoving them in his pocket like a thief.

“Now as for your gift to me…” He started. “I need to see these perfect tits I've been trying not to drool over in this tight sweater of yours…”

His bluntness made you giggle, and your inner christmas spirit made you comply with his request. Slowly, you pulled your black turtleneck up your chest, revealing that his early suspicions were very real: you had no bra on. Pale blue eyes fell from your face to your tits.

“Christ-“ He said breathlessly, his eyes wide. Your pretty tits bounced free for your sweater that now laid on the floor. “No bra… good girl.” He cooed, his large hand coming up to cup one in reverent greed, then his rough fingers grabbed your hard nipple and rolled it, earning a moan from you.

“They’re sensitive…” You whined softly.

“Mmm, I can tell love…” He whispered and did exactly what you imagined he would do: lean down and capture your nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling over it mercilessly. You gasped and buried your hands in his dark hair, his hand squeezing your other breast softly to balance things out for your sensitive tits. Quite the difficult task, as his moustache tickled the soft skin on your breasts and sent shivers down your spine and into your cunt.

You tugged on his hair, getting a groan from him and an increase in the intensity of his mouth. He sucked your nipple hungrily, letting it go with a loud pop before switching to the other side.

“These tits… Fuckin’ perfect...” He mumbled as his tongue flicked over the sensitive bud.

“Chris..” You whispered, followed by an exquisite series of moans. He hummed happily hearing you moan his name.

Swiftly, he catched your nipple between his teeth gently, your eyes fluttering open to meet his in a silent conversation. He bit down ever so gently, the same care as if he bit his own hand. All you could do was moan loudly at the delicious junction of pain and pleasure.

“Chris, please… Need you…” You managed to beg so prettily that he released your nipple from his gentle bite. He stood up again and smirked.

“I need you too, pretty girl…” He admitted, looking between you two at his painfully hard erection in his pants. “You’ve got me so fuckin hard… Need to bury my cock in your wet cunt..” He growled at you, his hands yanked down his zipper and he pulled his briefs and pants off in one go. His thick uncut cock sprung free immediately, and you bit your lip at the sight.

“Big…” You whispered mindlessly, your eyes fixated on a drop of precum leaking from the head.

“We'll make it fit baby… Don’t worry.” He groaned out, using a finger to tilt your face up. Then, he placed a hot searing kiss on your lips, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close in response.

Chris showed off his strength to you when he picked you up effortlessly in one motion, putting your back against the wall and wrapping your legs around his hips. His hands gripped the underside of your thighs and held you up. Breaking the kiss with a wet sound, he looks between you, his eyes devouring your wet pussy before looking back up at your face.

“Are you ready for me?” He purred with a smirk. You bit your lip and nodded so obediently, it was cute.

“Good girl…” He growled, gently pushing you forward and guiding himself into your tight, hot entrance that had been ready for him ever since he said ‘hello’ hours ago…

As his tip slid into you both moaned in unison, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. Your inner walls throb around him, slowly but surely getting used to his girth. You whimpered, letting your head fall back against the wall.

“Fuuuuuuck…” Chris groaned loudly. “This cunt’s squeezing me so good… So tight n’ wet for me…” the lust in his voice fanned your neck and sent ripples through you, a few open mouthed kisses and nibbles following suit. He gave you the chance to adjust, more than aware of the sheer size of his cock. You felt him everywhere, almost splitting you apart, only moans came from your lips as a form of coherent sound. All your energies were focused on making his thick cock fit. At this rate, you were convinced that neither of you was going to last long.

Clinging to him, you felt him starting to move his hips, fucking you against the wall with your thighs held up. He had no time to waste, the faint rattle of the safety poster on the wall that your back hit with every thrust served as a reminder of the riskiness of it all. He pistoned his hips harder, desperate for release just like you.

“Fuck-oh-oh my god...” You babbled, he pounded relentlessly. Your cunt throbbed in racing desire against every vein and curve of his cock.

“You fuckin like it, baby?” He purred to you, his hot breath caressing your ear. His hips kept up their rhythm well. “This pussy is like heaven… It’s beggin’ me to come inside...”

You moaned loudly at the thought, and he groaned when his cock got a tight squeeze from you.

“Yes.. yes please…” You whimpered so desperately, pathetically but beautifully begging for a perfect stranger’s cum.

“‘Please’ what, love…? You gotta say it… Tell me what you need.” Your handsome stranger commanded between heavy breaths, fucking you hard into the closet wall. In between your blanking brain, you found the correct words in you to beg for the tight pressure in your lower stomach to turn into a needed orgasm.

“Please... Please, come deep.” You moaned, his hips pistoning in you and interrupting your speech. Chris felt his own brain short circuit at that moment, his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs.

“Fucking hell… I’m not gonna last long…” He warned, keeping up his rhythm and leaning into your ear. “But this pretty pussy is gonna come first baby…” He then promised, nibbling on your earlobe like it was edible.

This man was pure magic, your pussy knew it. You moaned loudly at his words, not knowing what words were anymore. Your legs wrapped greedily around him and pulled him much closer, squishing your bouncing tits against his chest. A low growl of desire took over his huffs of hot air and he moved his hips harder and faster, going impossibly deep and hitting places barely explored.

“Oh my God…” You cried loudly, not even caring who could hear anymore. Chris was hitting all the right spots over and over again, making you melt in his strong arms. “Please…” You whimpered, clinging to him.

“Come for me… Come on my fuckin’ cock, baby…” He urged you desperately, mirroring the way he fucked you. Your eyes fluttered close, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure and finding yourself seconds away from an orgasm. His lips crashed into yours in a hot and messy kiss that just did it for your throbbing cunt.

You felt it. The pressure boiled over and your orgasm hit you hard, nearly senseless.

“Oh fuck... Chris… I-I’m coming!” You whimpered as best as you could, letting out a series of moans against his lips. Your pussy clenched around him repeatedly, almost possessively, soaking his thick cock in your juices. Your legs around him trembled out of control, only the grip of his strong hands kept you nice and steady against the wall.

“Fuck.. me too.” He groaned loudly, his rhythm slowing down. “This pussy feels so good milking my cock..”

Like clockwork, you felt him pulse inside you and heard his rough groan of pleasure. His hips finally stopped and he held you there, pinned against the wall, his hot cum dripping down inside you and down his softening cock.

He rested his forehead against yours so gently, finishing. You panted heavily, reeling from the intensity and danger of what you just did and where you did it…

“Holy shit..” He whispered after a minute, pulling out of your cunt. Carefully, he set you down on your feet and wobbling legs, the structure of your high boots keeping you steady.

Chris didn’t speak much as he pulled his jeans up and covered his well spent cock. He helped you adjust your miniskirt like a gentleman then put his hand on the wall next to your head like a flirt. The other hand was on your cheek, stroking your soft skin before leaning in to kiss you softly and sweetly. Butterflies in your chest and stomach at the gentleness.

When he pulled back, he looked into your eyes like he was trying to memorize the color of your iris, his thumbs gently brushing over your bottom lip leaving tingles on their wake. With a cheeky smile and a glint of mischief in his pale blue eyes, he spoke:

“How's that for a christmas gift, pretty girl?”

Pinterest moodboard by my dear @fuckiingloser.

Chris playlist made by me with mostly time accurate songs!

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #cillian murphy fanfiction #chris o´doyle #chris free fire #free fire #free fire 2016 #free fire movie #fanfic

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iskratempestmadness · 10 months ago

Note

Hi! I really like your Baki headcanons, so I was wondering if I could headcanons for the boys having a small s/o like a lot or more shorter?

Okay, let's do it.

I'm going to try a new format to describe more characters.

A thing from a high shelf

It was quite funny to watch. Honestly. He was probably trying not to laugh. But the picture he saw was funny, a little awkward, but undoubtedly sweet. The thing is, you've been trying to get a pack of cookies from the top shelf for a while now. While you were trying to finish the job you started, for some reason the idea of taking a chair did not occur to you. And of course your height was certainly not playing in your favor right now. So small and neat, you jumped, stood on chains, stretched and, alas, could not get the coveted pack in any way. And of course, this charming picture was accompanied by grumbling that the cookies could have been placed lower, and that it was probably done on purpose.

So how could he not help you? Of course he did. Coming up behind you, it took him a little effort to get the cookies off the shelf.

It has probably already become clear that he extremely likes your height and for this reason it becomes the reason for many of his jokes.

Yuuichirou Hanma, Chiharu Shiba, Retsu Kayoh, Atsushi Suedou, Jun Guevara

wearing on your shoulders

Not so long ago you decided to make a habit of walking in the park. However, with your boyfriend, every walk turned into a race. And this time was no exception.

So, as usual, you were walking behind and were already several dozen steps behind because of the length of your legs, and he was walking ahead with an energetic step, and for you he was flying, again because of the length of his legs. When you asked him to slow down for the hundredth time, he stopped. The moment you reached him, he picked you up in his arms and a second later you were sitting on his shoulders. Because of your height, your dangling legs barely reached his abs. The hands were on his head, gently running through his short hair.

... It was unexpected and perhaps sweet.

But that's only on your part. He was rather embarrassed at that moment. But he does not deny the fact that it is doubly pleasant for him to walk with you like this.

Jack Hanma, Hanayama Kaoru, Hector Doyle, Dorian, Kato Kiyosumi (he liked it between Your legs), Biscuit Oliva, Nomi no Sukune

You're wearing clothes

Perhaps lately you've been noticing posts in your feed too often about how girls took guys' clothes for themselves. Someone complained about it and was outraged, someone liked it and thought it was cute. You've never done anything like this. Well, the hour of your debut has come.

When your boyfriend came home, the first thing he felt was the smell of dinner. He could clearly hear the smell of baked chicken and potatoes, as well as the notes of salad. And of course the first thing he did was head to the kitchen. And bingo! He guessed right. The appetizing-smelling chicken was cooking in the oven, and at that time you were busy with the salad.

But there was something else that he noticed. He recognized one of his hoodies on you. Oh, don't worry, she sat on you wonderfully! Despite the fact that it was a little too long, the sleeves were long and the neckline was a little wide.

And.. it caused emotions. At first, a slight surprise, and later it was replaced by tenderness and quiet joy.

He definitely has a couple dozen of that image in his phone.

Baki Hanma, Kozue Motsumoto, Orochi Kastumi, Orochi Natsue, Tokugawa Mitsunari (in this case, the clothes just fit), Sikorsky (the coat was stolen), Koushou Shinogi

neutrality

Oh, it's uncritical for him, trust me. He has eyes, he knew who he was meeting and immediately appreciated your size. So... Your height is just your height. He doesn't attach much importance to it. However, he will support you if you have complexes about it.

Yujiro hanma, Orochi Doppo, Kaku Kayoh, Shibukawa Goki, Ryuukou Yanagi, Spec, Kureha Shinogi

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valkyyriia · 1 year ago

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A Study in Green

Words: 2915

CW: Fingering, Artistic Liberties with History | NSFW

Pairing: Arthur Conan Doyle / Female-Bodied Reader

Prompt: Abandoned Mansion (caution!)

Notes: This is I think the third time I've ever written smut, so please bear with me. I also thought the title was rather cliche, but I liked it, so... I also think I got a little carried away. Whoops. And Mo, if you read this - I remembered that comment I left you on your fic about the Paris Green and MC freaking out and it immediately came to mind when I rolled this prompt with my dice.

Crossposted on Ao3 here.

Banners/dividers by @natimiles.

For @xxsycamore's event, Sexy Ikemen Summer!

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked, eyeing the abandoned building with suspicion. It appeared to have been an older, late-eighteenth century mansion. Ivy crept up the crumbling mortar like grasping tendrils, giving it a foreboding look.

“It’ll be fine, luv,” Arthur said, a cheeky grin on his face. “A little urban exploration never hurt anyone.”

“I would like to see the evidence to back up that stateme-” You were cut off by Arthur tugging you close and kissing you sweetly.

“Come now. I swore to protect you, didn’t I?” He tapped your nose with a gloved finger. “That includes the dangers of uninhabited, derelict places and all the things that go bump in the dark. You have absolutely nothing to fear as long as I am here with you, okay?”

You exhaled shakily and offered a weak smile. “Okay.”

“Besides,” Arthur added. “You do make a rather adorable damsel in distress.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and he laughed, taking your hand and leading you inside.

One thing you had never quite gotten used to in this era was the sticky heat and lack of air conditioning. Even though the climate wasn’t too different from what you were used to, the fashion of the day was much more stifling. The summer sun was currently high in the air, beating oppressive rays down on the building. Fortunately, the mansion was still in reasonably good repair; the roof was intact everywhere except the far left wing, where the walls had collapsed in on themselves. It offered some protection from the heat, paltry though it was.

Arthur had, true to his word, faithfully stuck by your side. The vampire hardly even let go of your hand, giving you something to anchor yourself to. You were grateful for his considerate nature.

The sunlight shining through the cracked stained glass windows cast glittering constellations on the dusty wood of the parlor floor. Furniture draped in age-stained cream cloth was positioned in key places around the room. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and the obvious smell of decaying wood, you would almost think the owners were just out on vacation.

Arthur had done some amount of research on the building before bringing you here, aided by le Comte and his connections. As it turns out, the owners of this mansion had fled to America twenty or so odd years ago due to some sort of legal trouble. The Crown had seized the mansion to repay the family’s debts and it had remained uninhabited since. According to Comte, the left wing collapse happened a few months after the Crown took over the property, and they hadn’t tried to renovate or rebuild the structure. Ultimately, other than the left side, the mansion should have been perfectly safe - within reason for an abandoned building - for a first-time urban explorer.

He grinned. “Look at this,” Arthur said, using your joined hands to point at the desk in the corner of the room. It was neatly organized, a couple of books stacked on the side. A half-written letter lay on the workspace. A quill pen sat in a long-since-dried inkwell, the bottom of it stained black with India ink. “They really were in a hurry,” Arthur commented, pulling his tortoiseshell glasses from his pocket and setting them on his nose. “Let’s see…”

He blew gently on the surface, scattering the dust. Your eyes watered and you cough into your elbow. “Sorry,” Arthur murmured, rubbing your back lightly as he looked at the letter.

“To my love,

“I hope the day comes when I can see you again. Father says we must leave in order to stay out of prison, and I dread leaving you behind. I had desperately dreamed of the day I would make you my wife, but I fear we must place those plans on hold for now. Wait for me, my love. I will return for you.

“Forever yours,”

And then nothing. There was no signature. You frowned. “The poor dears.. I hope he was able to stay in contact. Or at least let her know what happened.”

Arthur studied the paper intensely for a moment, before looking at the books next to it. “I can’t imagine she wouldn’t know what happened. These kinds of things are rather big gossip in the upper echelons of society.” The hand on your back moved to your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Her family likely refused any further contact with him or his family after they left. Even if he continued to write to her, she probably never saw any of those letters.”

“That’s so sad,” you said, leaning into him. “It sounds like he really loved her.”

“If he loved her half as much as I love you, he must have loved her a lot,” Arthur replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “If you would like, luv, we can maybe try to deliver this letter to its intended recipient. There’s probably some other correspondence between the two stashed somewhere here, if we look for it.”

You looked up at him in surprise. He had a kind smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious. If it were something you wished to do, he would make it happen somehow. “I would, but,” you started to say. “What if it opens up old wounds? What if she’s moved on and this just brings it back up?” You sighed and laid your head against Arthur’s shoulder once more. He ran his thumb up and down your waist in soothing motions. “I don’t want to make things worse.”

“Even if she has moved on, it could give her closure,” Arthur pointed out. “But you are right; it could cause more trouble for them. Maybe we should leave it here?”

You mulled it over for a moment. “If I were in her shoes.. And you had moved away for some reason against your will, I don’t think I could really move on. Even if I was forced to marry someone else. I love you too much to ever forget you.”

Arthur was silent for a moment. “Then we should do everything we can to make sure it’s delivered. Even if it is twenty-something years late,” he said, voice quiet and somewhat choked. You went to move away and look up at him, but Arthur’s hand kept your head against his neck. His free arm wrapped around you and he held you firmly to his body. You gave up fighting him, and just locked your arms around his neck. “Thank you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

Arthur finally let go and stepped away from you, looking around the room once more. “Let’s see if we can find out who the lucky lady is, yeah? The game, my dear, is on!”

The two of you went looking around the parlor for any other correspondence between the pair. Coming up empty handed there, you moved to other rooms. Normally Arthur would have been able to make an educated deduction on which room likely belonged to the author, but with the state of disrepair the house was in it was much more difficult. Or at least, that’s what Arthur said - but you suspected he just wanted an excuse to lead you around the house by the hand for a little longer. Not that you’d complain about that.

The two of you looked inside a bedroom suite on the second floor. The door creaked open, revealing a lavish room, covered in linens matching those in the parlor. A thick layer of dust coated the room as it did everywhere else in the house. You carefully stepped over to another desk, this one facing the window that overlooked the long-overgrown lawn. Spread across it were several letters in varying states of completion. Some were well-worn, clearly having been read over multiple times. Those ones appeared to have a different author than the one found downstairs.

“Alyssa Bloodwell,” Arthur murmured. “That name doesn’t ring any bells for me, but Daddy Dearest knows just about everyone worth knowing among Europe’s elite. We can ask him when we get back. For now, though…” Arthur turned to you, a devilish smile on his lips.

“Arthur,” you warned him to no avail. He quickly stepped forward and grabbed you by the hips. Your arms snaked around his neck automatically.

He grinned. “What is it, oh darling love of mine?” He gave you an innocent peck on the lips.

“Oh, don’t even start, Arthur,” you protested, but made no motion to step out of his embrace. His lips moved to the side of your face and you reflexively tilted your head to give him access. “We can’t - not here.”

“Says who?” Arthur murmured seductively, nibbling at the shell of your ear. “It’s not like there’s anyone here to stop us.” He walked you backwards to a sturdy chest of draws against the far wall, and easily lifted you up onto it. “You’ve been looking positively delectable all day. I can’t help myself from wanting a taste.” He leaned in and kissed you more insistently, his fingers dancing around the ribbon at the collar of your blouse.

“You are incorrigible,” You responded weakly, already returning his kiss.

“But you like it, don’t you?” Arthur replied, grazing your earlobe with his fangs. “You dirty little thing.” He ghosted his lips down the side of your neck, pressing a kiss right over your pulse point, before mouthing the spot and sucking hard. You cried out at the sharp pain of it.

Arthur ran his thumb over the red blooming there. “Beautiful,” he said. “I would bite you, but then I’d have to carry you back to grab a carriage.” He ran his tongue down the column of your throat, his fingers gently setting the ribbon to the side and dragging the top of your blouse down. His other hand slid up your skirt, the thumb running back and forth over the flesh of your inner thigh. “And I really don’t want to have to explain that one to the constable,” Arthur whispered, his breath coming out in puffs against your collarbone.

The drag of his sharp fangs against the skin of your chest combined with Arthur’s fingers moving higher underneath your skirt caused your breath to hitch. His gloved hand pressed gently against your clothed sex, applying a small bit of pressure through your underwear. You let out a soft whine at the contact. He rubbed his fingers back and forth between your thighs while leaving love bites all over your exposed chest.

His lips kissed back up your throat, and he pulled away to look at you. Smirking, he pulled his hand from between your thighs and took the glove in between his teeth. Arthur slowly, teasingly, pulled it off of his hand, the now bare appendage returning to its former place between your legs.

“Arthur,” you whimpered as he slid the material of your panties aside. He dragged his fingers back and forth through the wetness gathering there, circling the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs.

You threw your head back, a low keening sound escaping your lips as he continued to swirl his fingers between your legs. Arthur shot out his other hand to catch the back of your head.

“Look at me,” he murmured. You bit your lip but did as he asked, and he smiled. “Good girl.”

Arthur’s thumb brushed against your lips and then he leaned in for a deep kiss. “You’re so cute when you come undone under my fingers like this,” he purred. “You’re normally so put together.” You probably were a sight to behold right now - skirt hiked up to your hips, blouse untied and loosely draped under your cleavage, chest heaving - you were the very image of debauchery.

Arthur leaned back in for another kiss, his tongue moving against yours in time with his fingers as they pushed inside of you.

Your gaze drifted up, suddenly settling on the walls of the room. Your eyes widened and you broke the kiss. “Arthur,” you breathed, voice scratchy. “Is it just me or is that wallpaper green?”

Arthur groaned and he pulled away with a discontent sigh, his lips forming a frown. “It is, and quite a lovely shade of it. But I don’t see how the color of the wallpaper is more important than my hand.” His fingers deftly continued their work, and you bit back a groan. “Unless you are unsatisfied, and want something more?”

“Because,” you breathed, trying to ignore Arthur’s actions and failing miserably. “Green pigments from around this time period are made of arsenic. It’s poison.” Your thighs trembled as he pleasured you. You were so close-

-and then Arthur suddenly stopped and looked at you, bewildered. You whined at the loss of stimulation. “Really?” He looked away from you, his gaze flitting all around the room that was blanketed in peeling green wallpaper. Arthur’s cobalt gaze met yours again, a light panic to his eyes. “And they didn’t know this?”

“No! The paint was invented sometime in the early nineteenth century and fell out of use during the mid nineteenth century because people were getting sick,” you sighed, the ache in your belly slowly subsiding, leaving you feeling uncomfortable and wanting for more. “It was later used as a pesticide, until they realized that was dangerous, too.” You were somewhat regretting your choice to stop Arthur at this moment. Curse your brain for being safety-conscious even with an incredibly attractive man between your legs, who wanted nothing more than to bring you pleasure.

Arthur sighed, pressing a kiss to your lips. “We should probably continue this elsewhere, then,” he conceded, removing his hands from your thighs. You shuddered at the loss of contact and watched as he lifted his slick-covered hand to his mouth, sucking on the fingers. The lewd sight sent another flare of smoldering heat right to your belly. “When we get back home, you’re going to have to make up for leaving me hanging like this. I hope you’re ready for the consequences of your actions.”

Bonus:

After speaking with Comte about what you discovered while exploring (trespassing), you and Arthur found yourselves standing outside of a beautiful, well-kept mansion in the Parisian countryside. As you approached the gate, a butler, who was trimming roses nearby, placed his garden shears down and stepped over.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle, Monsieur,” he greeted. “How can I help you?”

“Is there an Alyssa Bloodwell at this residence?” You asked.

The butler frowned. “Madame Bloodwell does live here, yes, but we were not advised of any visitors today. Was she expecting you?”

“Not exactly,” you replied. Arthur then pulled a time-worn letter out of his pocket and showed it to the butler, explaining, “I shan’t go into the specifics on how, but we came across this letter and believe its intended recipient is your mistress. We simply wish it to go where it belongs.”

The butler looked at the letter for a moment before nodding. “If you will, follow me,” he said and led you both into the mansion’s entryway, and from there to the parlor. “Please wait here, mademoiselle, monsieur. I will inform Madame Bloodwell of your visit and we shall proceed from there.”

After a few minutes of waiting, you looked up to see a woman in her late thirties descending the stairwell. “I am Madame Alyssa Bloodwell. I was informed you had correspondence intended for me?” she asked.

You curtsied and Arthur handed over the letter. She took it, eyeing it, and her hand dropped to her chest. “Where did you get this?” she said, breathless.

“We recently came into possession of it,” Arthur said, smoothly avoiding giving the details. “We did some detective work, and determined you were the recipient.”

Lady Bloodwell walked over to an armchair on uncertain legs and sunk down into it. “Louis,” she murmured. “I haven’t heard from him in twenty four years.” Her fingers caressed the fraying edges of the paper. “His family had been found to be embezzling money from one of the royal artisans and was disgraced. They fled Paris in the middle of the night and caught a ship to America. My parents forbade mention of him and the betrothal was called off. I ended up marrying a local lord, but.. I never did stop wondering what happened to him.”

You smiled sadly at her. “I’m sorry that we didn’t come bearing current news, but I’m glad we could at least bring you the letter. It’s obvious how much he loved you.”

“Thank you, cherie,” she said. “Please, is there anything I can do to repay you for doing me this kindness?”

You began to decline, but Arthur cut in. “If you don’t mind, could you answer a question for us as payment?“

She inclined her head.

“Did you ever move on?” Arthur asked, a serious look on his face.

Madame Bloodwell shook her head. “I love my husband,” she began. “But no. Louis was - is - special to me. I never stopped loving him, and I doubt I will stop until the last breath leaves my lungs.” She looked between you and Arthur, a content smile on her face. “I see such a resemblance between you two and myself and Louis. Monsieur, whatever you do, don’t ever lose her.”

Arthur looked straight at you and squeezed your hand. “I won’t.”

Taglist: @natimiles

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nosyp · 6 months ago

Text

IkeVamp chars reacting to someone harassing you

A/N = stepping into the waters of ikevamp Edited 5.10.25 = I edited some and uhh I added the missing people I'm so very sorry

Napolean Bonaparte

Napoleon would look the harasser up and down, then his voice goes on to lecture the harasser.

"Leave now, or I’ll make you wish you had." He would say as his gaze sharpens, hinting at his military background. "This will not end well for you if you continue."

If the harasser doesn't take him seriously, Napoleon's not gonna be as nice as before. "You’re testing the wrong person. Do you really want to deal with the full weight of my wrath?"

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Mozart would dramatically throw his hands up in exasperation, his tone playful yet scathing.

"Oh, how clever of you to harass someone who’s so clearly out of your league! Tell me, is this your best performance?" He'd laugh mockingly.

If the harasser doesn't back off, Mozart would quip, "You’ve already missed your chance to impress me, darling. Best leave before you make a fool of yourself."

Leonardo da Vinci

With a calm and inquisitive expression, Leonardo would step forward, his tone collected but firm.

"I find it curious that someone of your... intellect would waste time with such unseemly actions." His voice is steady, as though speaking to an inferior subject.

He’d pause, eyes narrowing, "I suggest you reconsider your actions. People of my stature do not tolerate such behavior. And I’m sure you’re aware of the consequences."

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur would straighten up, giving the harasser a cold look and say: "Really? This is your idea of making a lasting impression?"

He’d then calls the harasser directly. "If you think for even a fleeting moment that you have any sort of control here, you’ve gravely underestimated both of us."

"You may want to rethink this, as I’m certain your motives could be better directed elsewhere," he continues calmly threatening. You wonder how he does that.

Vincent van Gogh

Vincent’s normally calm demeanor would crack, his voice trembling with emotion. "You have no right... no right to treat them this way!"

He steps in front of the reader, glaring at the harasser. "You don’t know who you’re messing with, do you? I won't stand for it!"

As the tension builds, Vincent’s face hardens, "Leave them alone, now. I’ll make sure you regret it if you don’t."

Theodore

Theodore would step in between you and the harasser. His voice calm but stern as he calls them out. "This is not the way to behave, and you know it."

He’ll politely and as nicely as he could give the harasser a chance to surrender and back down. "I’d advise you to walk away, before I’m forced to make you understand how serious I am."

If necessary, he’d become more forceful: "I am not one for drama, but I will not let you make this a problem."

Osamu Dazai

Dazai’s initial response would be a smirk, his tone sarcastic. "Oh, how bold of you. You really think you can harass them without consequences?"

He’d lean in slightly, his smile darkening. "You’re funny. But not in a good way."

If things escalate, Dazai’s tone would shift, becoming chilling. "You’ve just made a very bad decision. One I won’t be forgetting anytime soon."

Isaac Newton

Isaac would raise an eyebrow, voice level and logical. "I’m afraid your actions are... quite irrational."

He would calmly explain, "Such behavior is not only disrespectful but also entirely unnecessary. You should consider the consequences of your actions before they escalate further."

"I believe I’ve made myself clear," Isaac would finish, his voice stern with an undercurrent of intellectual superiority.

Jean d'Arc

Jean would stand tall, his voice unwavering as he faces the harasser. "You dare approach them in such a manner?"

He’d take a step forward, eyes burning with determination. "You will not continue this harassment. I will protect them, no matter what it takes."

"This is your last warning," his tone is commanding. "Leave now, before you regret it."

William Shakespeare

With a mocking fake smile, William would deliver his saying as if he was in a theatrical drama. "Thou art a fool, sir. A poor, unfortunate fool!"

His voice is laced with irony. "Do you not see the folly in your actions? I’d advise you to take your leave while there is still time for you to save face."

"For thou shall not win this battle of geniuses," Shakespeare would say. "And in this exchange, you are the one who loses."

Comte de Saint-Germain

Saint-Germain would speak in a low, controlled voice, his rich man tone giving him an air of superiority. "I am not one for unpleasantness, but you’ve given me no choice."

He would tilt his head, an elegant smirk on his lips. "You will leave, now. I assure you, it’s in your best interest."

If the they don't stop, Comte's fake, warm smile would turn into a cold, still fake smile. "You clearly don’t know who you’re dealing with. I suggest you correct that mistake— before I do it for you."

Sebastian

Sebastian’s tone would be smooth and polite, though there’s danger present in it. "Excuse me, sir, but I believe you’ve mistaken this person’s boundaries."

He would take a step closer, don't get it wrong, his voice is still calm but now having an unmistakable threat. "I’m sure you’ll find your behavior unwise in the end."

If the harasser continues, Sebastian would smile coldly. "I won’t repeat myself, but I do expect you to leave— immediately."

Vlad

His eyes narrow the second he notices. He doesn't say anything at first. It's just cold, suffocating silence.

Then he takes a step and another and then he's between you and the harasser. An intimidating calm expression is plastered on his face that’s somehow worse than him yelling.

“You’ve made a grave mistake.” One sentence, low and final. And you never see that person again.

Johann Georg Faust

He tilts his head slightly, an 'analyzing' look at the situation as if it’s a specimen under a microscope.

Then he looks him in the eye. “Do you know what happens to pests in my lab?” he asks, tone eerily gentle.

You blink, and suddenly the harasser is gone. Faust is now smiling at you like nothing happened.

Charles-Henri Sanson

He instantly positions himself in front of you, protective and eerily calm.

“You’re brave to act like that in front of an executioner.” he says in a condescending tone.

He doesn’t need to raise his voice. The energy surroundhing him alone sends the harasser running— unless they’re too stupid to get the hint.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp x reader #napoleon bonaparte x reader #mozart x reader #leonardo da vinci x reader #arthur conan doyle x reader #vincent van gogh x reader #theodore x reader #osamu dazai x reader #isaac newton x reader #jean d'arc x reader #william shakespeare x reader #sebastian x reader #comte de saint germain x reader #vlad x reader #charles x reader #charles henri sanson #johann georg faust

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hotchscoffeecup · 1 year ago

Text

reconciliation (pt.2 to how do we carry on?)

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: t

genre: hurt/comfort with a happy ending

word count: 7.2k

tagged readers: @izakopanyi2 @polireader @jihyowrrld @twilightlover2007 @queenanababy @feyrecarol @rousethemouse @endofthexline @jxvipike @donttrustlove @hiireadstuff @jenna50 @michasia24

The coffee that was hot an hour ago is cold and bitter now. You grimace as the acrid taste slides down your throat. You try to place the disposable cup into your cup holder without taking your eyes off the road, but miss.The lid slips off and brown liquid sloshes over the edge onto the passenger seat. You curse as you grasp the wheel with one hand while you try to mop up the spill with what random napkins you’ve acquired since you started driving. Fortunately, your purse is spared any damage, but the road map and photograph you’ve kept on the seat aren’t as lucky. Ignoring the map, you pick up the photograph and shake it, splattering drops of coffee across the dash. The edges curl slightly, but the photo itself is fine. You hold it awkwardly between your fingers as you return your hand to the steering wheel.

There aren’t many cars on the road at this hour. You glance down at the dashboard and see 02:32 illuminated in green. You aren’t sure where you’re going, you just know you can’t stay there. Even your own apartment didn’t feel secure, not with how much of him is there. Your lives are so intertwined, you see and feel him everywhere you go. It’s what makes, made? God, you don’t even know anymore. It’s what is so beautiful about your relationship, how seamlessly your lives blend together that you’re not sure where yours and his start and end. You’re both so fiercely independent while being so devoted and wholly part of the threads that make up one another’s lives.

Or so you thought.

As you slow to a stop at the red light, the only car at the four way intersection, your eyes fall to the coffee stained image between your fingers. You’re smiling at the camera meanwhile Aaron is looking and smiling down on you, the soft shimmer in his deep brown eyes captured by the lens. It’s your favorite picture. You took it from the frame at the front table before leaving. The sound of his sobs echo in your ears as the red light reflecting on the photo paper shines green. You blink and drop the photo onto the center console before shifting your gaze back to the road. A sign ahead reads to keep left to stay on I-95 South. Richmond and Virginia Beach are in big white letters under it.

Three years you’ve lived in Virginia, and you’ve never made it to the coast. Shifting the steering wheel, you guide the vehicle into the left lane and take the exit.

•

As the waves lap at your ankles, you close your eyes and turn your face toward the sun, the briny sea breeze gently tossing your hair. You inhale deeply and the sigh you exhale is overtaken by the quiet roar of the ocean.

Turns out getting a beachfront house isn’t as expensive as one might think in the off season and fortunately for you, Virginia afternoons in September still reach the high eighties.

The beach house is nothing fancy, more like a beach shack if you’re being honest. It’s one floor supported on high rafters, old wooden steps leading down to the sand. You climb them now and they creak beneath your weight. A half rusted outdoor shower squeals to life when you reach the deck and twist the faucet. You shiver as you rinse the sand off of your legs and arms, and well, everywhere. There aren’t many crevices it doesn’t manage to stick to. You swipe the pink and white striped towel you’d found in the linen closet off the railing and wrap it around your body. Once it’s tightly secured around your chest, you work off the cheap bikini you’d purchased at a year round souvenir shop down the road and spread it out to dry.

The screen door squeaks on its hinges as you enter the house. You should probably go for a proper shower and wash the sea out of your hair, but you can’t be assed. Instead, you crack open the fridge and inspect the pathetic hodge podge of groceries you’d purchased at the corner store. Food doesn’t even sound appealing. It hasn’t for days. Every time you try to eat, you just feel sick. Your stomach roils at the thought and you grab a seltzer water before closing the fridge with a grimace.

As you exit the kitchen, your eyes catch your phone and keys on the chipped granite counter. The black screen of your phone glints beneath the fluorescent kitchen lighting. You’d turned it off when you’d arrived, ignoring the fact that you had 8 missed calls from Hotch and twice as many unread messages from him. There’d been one missed call from Emily, a name you never thought you’d see flash across your screen again. God knows how many times you’d called her phone just to hear her voice recording before leaving a message about how much you missed her and wished she were there to give you advice or talk through a case. For a fraction of a second, you wonder now if she’s gotten the chance to hear those voicemails you’d left her. Did she hear the pain in your voice? Did she feel guilt over the messages where all you’d managed to choke out were incoherent sobs? All this time you thought you’d been talking to a ghost, but she’d been out there all along.

You tear your gaze away from the counter, leaving your phone where it is and cross the cream colored carpet to the small bedroom. Yellow wallpaper splashed with repeating patterns of palm fronds plaster the four walls. The bed frame is made up of white wicker and you fall back onto the comforter, the front of which is decorated with images of shells and starfish. None of the patterns in this house match, but you don’t care. You care about very little right now.

Before you can run away down that thought pattern, there’s a knock at the door. You sit up, brow furrowed, as you lean forward on your knees, as if doing so will suddenly grant you the ability to see through walls and who could possibly be here.

Maybe the owner? A neighboring off season beach goer? Hesitantly, you rise from the bed and tug on one of the guest robes that had been hanging in the bathroom. You drop your towel and shrug it on, tying it tightly around your waist before approaching the front door. You move slowly for two reasons: one, no one should know you’re here and you don’t know why someone would be calling on you, and two; what if it’s Aaron?

The knocking repeats. It's light but firm, definitely not Aaron. A woman, you think. You twist the deadbolt and pull open the door, surprise etching into your features as a woman a few years older than you stands behind the second screen door.

“Hi, uh, can I help you?” you ask awkwardly.

The girl’s dark eyes travel up and down your body. She looks at you through the door from beneath long lashes, a knowing smile playing on her lips. You can’t control the shocked gasp that leaves your mouth when she asks for you by name.

You try your best to school your facial expressions and by the slight smirk that crosses the girl’s face, you know you did a pretty poor job of doing so. “Who wants to know?” you ask, wondering if she’s someone who’s crossed paths with you before through work.

“Aaron Hotchner,” she answers, drawing out the last syllable of his name with an amused glint in her eye.

You can’t fight the eye roll that follows. Unbelievable. “Sorry, he wasted your time.” You move to close the door, but she throws open the screen door and catches it with her foot.

Your eyes flash to hers and you see the challenge in the depth of her hazel gaze, equal to the one in yours. “Hotch wouldn’t have reached out to me unless he was desperate,” she adds. “I think you might want to hear me out.” She extends a hand toward you. “I’m Elle, Greenaway to the BAU, but when I left I shortened it to Greene.”

Your brow furrows as the name rings the slightest of bells in the back of your mind. Hesitantly, you accept her ring adorned hand and shake it as your brain sifts through the number of agents you’d heard stories about in the time before you joined the team.

“How did you find me?” you ask as you step aside and admit her into the house.

Elle nods graciously as she looks around, though there’s not much to size up in the small rental unit.

“You think Hotch didn’t immediately have Penelope ping your phone when you left?”

You exhale sharply. “I turned my phone off.”

A short laugh leaves Elle, “Not soon enough.” She turns, a hand on her hip. “You got any beer?”

Your brow furrows, wondering who the hell you just invited into your house. You shake your head as you cross into the kitchen and open the fridge. You withdraw a big bottle you’d bought at the corner drug store. “I’ve got wine.”

Elle smiles. “That’ll work. Let’s head down to the beach.”

•

“Thanks,” Elle says coolly as you finish tipping wine into the plastic cup in her hand. You cap the bottle and shove it down into the sand between the foldable beach chairs you’d dragged down from their place on the deck after you’d gotten changed into something more appropriate to wear outside than a bathrobe.

You retrieve your cup from where you’d been holding it between your legs and take a long sip before sighing and settling back into your chair, the canvas stretching as you do so.

For a moment, you and Elle sit there in silence; watching the orange pink colors of the sunset start to streak across the sky as the waves crash against the sand.

“I had no idea about Haley,” she says after another minute goes by and you stiffen. It isn’t that you and Aaron never talk about her. Keeping her memory alive is so important for Jack and you know a part of Hotch will always love her. That’s never bothered you though. Aaron had told you that he and Haley had talked about that if something ever happened to either one of them that they would want the other to eventually move on and find love again, that they didn’t want the other one to spend the rest of their life lonely. I’m sure neither one of them ever imagined something like what had happened to Haley would ever come to pass though.

“Did you know her?” you ask, your voice tight with emotion at the thought of ever having to endure a loss like that. You’d joined the team years after her death and hadn’t known Hotch during the time he’d grieved her loss. From the stories he and Jack had shared, she seemed like she’d been a kind soul and a good mother.

Elle nods, her gaze fixed on the view though you see a glint of memory in her eyes. “Hotch wasn’t as serious then.” She pauses and smirks to herself. “Don’t get me wrong, he was still a hard ass, but there was also a lightness to him before and right after Jack was born. I remember when they first brought him into the office, such a tiny little thing all bundled up in his arms. Him and Haley had looked so at ease.” She sighs and takes a swig of her wine before continuing. “I think that’s when the job started to get to him, after he had a kid.” Her brow pinches for a moment. “I think Hotch started to see the men and women we put away more as the proverbial monsters that kids fear are lurking in their closets, except we know what horribly evil things the monsters are really capable of versus what a kid’s imagination can drum up. The worst their little minds can conjure up pales in comparison to the heinous files that cross his desk. I think Hotch wanted to protect that innocence so badly and shield Jack from all of the evil in the world that he threw himself further and further into his work, especially after how things with The Fisher King went down.” Your eyes don’t miss the way her hand presses against her abdomen. The stake jutting out of Emily’s stomach flashes in your mind and you flinch at the memory.

“Something happened,” observes Elle. She sits up in her chair, resting her elbows on her knees as she looks at you.

You scoff and take another drink, shaking your head as you do so. “Once a profiler, always a profiler.”

Elle chuckles and shrugs. “Old habits die hard.” Her features soften as she turns toward you. “Something happened though, didn’t it? I know you probably can’t share too many details. Hotch didn’t in the voicemail he left you.”

You perk up at that. “Voicemail?”

Elle nods, the gold hoops in her ears swinging as she does so. “Sorry,” she laughs coolly as she reaches into the pocket of her jeans. “I probably should’ve led with that.” She fishes her cell phone out and swipes her thumb across the screen. You brace yourself as Aaron’s throaty tenor echoes from the speaker on her phone.

“Elle, hi,” he starts and stops. An exasperated sigh follows. “It’s Aaron Hotchner with the BAU I—of course you know I’m with the BAU I don’t know why I led with that. Look, I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from after all of these years but I didn’t know who else to call. I can’t,” his voice wavers here for a moment. “I can’t share details about the case we’re working on, but it’s bad and I had to make a decision.” He stops and clears his throat. “It was a decision that impacted the whole of the team and where it was for their protection, I may have ruined the best thing to have happened to me in years. Look, I know you left the Bureau. I know you changed your name to put distance between you and the BAU, and I don’t blame you. In fact, I think I understand you now more than ever. This job, the toll it takes—” his voice trails off and you hold your breath in anticipation. He goes on to explain who you are and why you left, obfuscating the exact details of the Ian Doyle case for security reasons. He explains how after no one had heard from you for forty eight hours that he’d worked with Garcia to ping your location, how he was more worried than anything else and just needed to know that you were safe. When Penelope had located you, he remembered that Elle had always talked about living on the coast. It had been a shot in the dark, but Penelope being Penelope, she’d been able to find Elle in a matter of hours. “I just need to know she’s safe,” he breathes. “Please, Elle. If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I’ll do. I can’t lose someone else. I have to do better; by you, by Haley, by the team. I’ll spend the rest of my life making amends, but please, with this case still active, I just need to know that she’s ok. Call me back,” his voice quavers. “Please.”

The line goes dead and Elle slides her phone back into her pocket. “That was three days ago.” Elle’s brow arches, looking for a response. “So,” she adds, drawling out the ‘o’ sound. “Sounds heavy.”

You draw in a deep breath and down the rest of your wine. Aaron had sounded so tired on the phone. Guilt squeezes around your heart as you think about what he and the team must be dealing with. It’s reckless and stupid of you to have just up and left when Doyle is still out there with you and the rest of his team in your sights. You didn’t even bring your gun, sure that you’d be sending in your resignation after this cover up; but hearing his voice on Elle’s phone, the pain in it. What you’d been trying to ignore this entire time begins to wriggle its way toward the forefront of your mind; and that’s the hell this must have put Hotch and Emily through. You know he’d never do anything to hurt you, not intentionally, but how are you supposed to trust him if he could watch you suffer through the agony of her loss knowing at any point in time he could’ve put a stop to it? You squeeze your eyes shut because you know the obvious answer. There are things he has to do as Unit Chief, choices only he can make. Choices that don’t involve you or the rest of the team, and that doesn’t change because you two are an item. Still, the conflict wages on inside of you. All of this is true and he’s made choices and decisions that impact the team before, just never on this scale; not something that alters memories and fucks the psyche so irreparably.

“The heaviest,” you finally respond.

“You can talk to me about it,” she says, and you know her words are genuine. “I know I don’t have clearance anymore, so the cliff notes version works too.”

So, you tell her. About Emily, about Hotch, what you can about Doyle, the circumstances around Emily’s death, the grief, her undeath, the betrayal you felt, and everything that brought you to this moment with her.

Elle releases a low whistle and scoops the wine bottle up from the sand, pouring herself another glass and topping yours off. “That’s—” She pops her lips, considering. “Elaborate.”

“I’d say mind-fuck, but elaborate works too.” You quip bitterly and take a drink.

Elle cocks her head. “Hotch doesn’t do anything without careful consideration.”

You inhale deeply before taking another drink, a warmth starting to crawl beneath your flesh as the alcohol sinks in. You hang your head as you respond. “I know.”

“There’s a reason that I left the Bureau,” Elle says after a long stretch of silence. “I made a decision that ended my career, and it’s one I’d make again if I had to.” Her voice grows tight for a moment before she clears her throat and continues. “This job will drain you until there’s nothing left. I remember on the day I left I told Hotch about how I’d get so excited when my phone rang because it meant we had a case; but after I got shot in my own house and was lying on the floor feeling that man’s fingers inside of my gut, something changed in me forever that day. I went back to work after some time, but it was never the same. After that, every time my phone rang I felt paralyzed with fear because I knew what it was like to feel the way those victims felt in the moments leading up to their deaths.” Her voice quavers for a second and she swipes at a stray tear before choking out a laugh. “You’re not the same after something like. I know what it’s like to come back from the brink of death, and it sounds like this Emily knows too.” She stretches out a hand and grips your knee. “The only difference is that after I nearly died, I had the team. I had Spencer, Derek, Penelope, and JJ, hell Hotch was the one that came to my house and scrubbed the blood off of my walls before I got out of the hospital.” Her brow arches in response to my widening eyes. “Didn’t know that, did you?” She smiles and reclines back in her seat. “Emily didn’t have that. She didn’t have her friends, family,” she corrects. “Let’s be honest, the BAU becomes your family after a while.”

You nod in agreement.

“She went through that alone,” Elle continues and a pang of guilt shoots through you. “She didn’t have her family to turn to in a time where she probably needed you the most.”

It’s your turn to swipe at the tears that loose from your eyes. “I know that.” Your voice is tight as you choke back a sob. “I’ve always trusted the team, every one of them. How—” you suck in a shaky breath. “How am I supposed to trust them after this? What’s to stop something like this from happening again?”

Elle’s lips purse. “That’s the job we signed up for, isn’t it? Working for the government and all the shitty red tape they weave in and around the work we do.”

“If I go back,” you start. “I don’t think they’ll forgive me. I left when they needed me most. Doyle is still out there.”

Elle frowns and tilts her head back and forth. “You’ll never know if you don’t though. I couldn’t go back. My actions decided that for me. You have a choice, but you’re the only one that can make it.” She glances down at her watch and then out at the sun. It’s almost completely sunken down beneath the sea over the horizon, the orange and pink sunset fading to the purple gray hues of dusk. “I should probably get going.” She sets her cup down in the sand and stands, turning to you as she does so.

“Here,” she says, passing you a card from the back pocket of her jeans.

You take it, fingering the edges of the sturdy cardstock. Elle Greene: Social Services Coordinator is embossed in dark blue font followed by a cell phone, office number, and email listed beneath it.

“Call me if you ever want to talk. There are ways to do some good in this world without sacrificing your own happiness in the process.” She smiles at you before she starts toward the path that leads around the house and back to the road.

After a few moments, you jump up and call after her. “Hey Elle!”

She turns, brow arched toward her hairline as she waits for you to continue.

“Why’d you come?”

She slips her hands into her pockets and doesn’t say anything for a while, her green eyes focusing on her feet. When she looks up at you, there’s the faintest of smiles on her lips. “The day I left the Bureau I looked Hotch in the eye and told him that I used to wonder why he didn’t smile. When I heard that voicemail, despite how defeated he sounded, there was something in his voice that made me believe he’d found something to smile about again. When you work the job that you do, that I used to do, you have to hold on for dear life when you find the things that can make you smile after witnessing the things we do. I guess I don’t want him to lose what made him find his smile again; even after all these years I’ve spent angry at Hotch, I never hated him.” She sighs and looks like she wants to say more, but chooses not to. “Running away doesn’t solve your problems, it just keeps them at a distance until you’re finally brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.” Her jeweled rings catch the last rays of sun as she raises a hand in farewell. “I’ll see you around.”

•

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around them, the blue and green plaid fabric of the couch scratching the backs of your legs as you do so. You bite at your thumb nail as you eye your powered down cell phone from where it sits on the glass coffee table in front of you.

Elle’s words from two days ago hang heavy in the air around you.

Running away doesn’t solve your problems. It just keeps them at a distance until you’re brave enough to face them. I hope you find clarity faster than I did.

If you turn on your phone, you know there will be a barrage of voicemails and text messages waiting for you. Or, there won’t be anything more than there was when you first shut it down. You turned your back on them when they needed you. It would be easy to write you off, after all that’s what you did isn’t it?

You drop your head back against the couch and groan, the feelings at war within you tearing at your insides; your guts twisted with equal parts betrayal over Hotch not telling you and the guilt of leaving the team instead of facing that anger and hurt head on.

It’s a giant mess; a tangled web of necessary lies and the red tape that binds the hands of those in positions over you and the rest of the team. The rational part of you understands this. In black and white terms, you understand that Unit Chief SSA Agent Aaron Hotchner had to make a decision to protect another agent, SSA Emily Prentiss. While Ian Doyle is a fugitive from the law believing her to be dead, her going into hiding not only took the target off of her back, but off the backs of all of your team members, yourself included, who otherwise would’ve been collateral damage in Doyle’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against Emily. All of this makes perfect sense.

It’s when the emotional, feeling half of you comes into play that the black and white turns to splotchy streaks of gray and you struggle to make peace with the rational side of things. When you look at it through this lens, your boyfriend and long term partner, Aaron, watched you throw up from dehydration over how long and how hard you’d sobbed over the death of best friend, Emily. At any point, he could’ve put a stop to your pain and didn’t.

Your fingers slide into your hair, gently tugging at the roots as you try to sort through these warring versions of yourself and the pieces of information and emotions that come with each. Because in your heart, you know and understand it’s not black and white. It’s gray and it’s messy. So, why can’t you reconcile both halves of yourself and just be okay with this then? Why can’t you just be overjoyed by the fact that your best friend is back from the literal dead? How many people in this life can say that that’s happened for them? Why can’t you just tell Aaron you understand what he did because you do, but at the same time you don’t? You wouldn’t have told anyone, but then that would be Aaron showing you preferential treatment and you’d be in no better position than he or JJ when it came to hiding this fact from the rest of the team. It’s something you’d talked about extensively when you first started dating and so far, it has been fine. He makes decisions that sometimes you agree with, sometimes you don’t. It is always just part of the job. So what does it all boil down to? Where does this leave you?

“Fuck me,” you whisper aloud as you dive forward and swipe the phone off of the table before you can really think about what you’re doing. You hold down the button on the side and it titters to life. For a moment, you close your eyes as you feel the vibrations pulsing in the palm of your hand, each one a notification of some sort. When they cease, you swipe directly to your contacts and select Aaron’s. His is the first to show alphabetically anyway. Your thumb hovers over the call button for only a second, before you exhale a shaky breath and hit the dial.

The phone barely presses against your ear as you catch the tail end of his hello. It’s after hearing his voice, that you’re rendered speechless.

“Baby, are you there?”

Your chest rises and falls, your heart rate quickening beneath your chest. You sniff as tears prick your eyes, not realizing how much you’d missed his voice until now.

“Aaron,” you squeak out, your voice cracking on his name.

“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Hotch says, a plea in his apology. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to fix this. I miss you. I love you.”

A sob shudders free from your lips as all of your walls come tumbling down and you let yourself break down to pieces of ash and stone. “I’m sorry I ran when you needed me.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron soothes. “It’s okay. It's over. We got him.”

You sit up and swipe under your eyes with the backs of your hands. “Doyle?”

“He’s dead.”

Panic rises in you. “And the team? Is everyone—”

“Everyone is fine. No one was hurt.”

You close your eyes and sink back into the cushions as your pulse levels out. “I’m on my way.”

“There’s no need,” he replies coolly.

Your brow pinches. “I don’t—”

The sound of a car door slamming echoes beyond the front door. You stand and the old t-shirt that belongs to Aaron falls to your thighs as you do so. You’d not even realized you’d packed it until you pulled it on after your shower earlier. The linoleum creaks beneath your feet as you cross through the kitchen and unlock the deadbolt. When you pull open the door, you gasp and drop your phone.

Aaron’s lips tremble as he smiles at you and takes the phone down from his ear. He ends the call and slips it into the pocket of his slacks. “I got in the car and just started driving,” he says as his glimmering eyes flit across yours, always the profiler checking for micro expressions. A desperate smile clings to his lips as he looks at you. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathe in response; unable to think of what else to say at the moment

His smile falters as he takes a step closer to you. You see his hand twitch ever so slightly at his side.

“Honey, I—”

You leap forward and throw your arms around his neck. He breathes a sigh of relief into your hair as his arms fold around you, his hands pressed flat against your back as if he can somehow hold you closer than he already is. His hands slide up your spine to curl around the back of your neck. When he pulls away, there are tear stains on his cheeks.

You reach up and swipe your thumbs under his eyes, his skin smooth beneath your touch. A smirk tugs at one corner of your mouth as you wonder when he had time to shave.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” you say, still cupping his cheek in your hand.

He nods as he leans into your touch. “I know,” he says softly.

“I know why you had to do what you did.”

Another tear leaks from his eye as he presses his forehead to yours, cradling your hand against his cheek. “I never wanted to hurt you or anyone else, but I had to protect you.”

“I know,” you say and you mean it. “I also know why you couldn’t tell me. I’m a coward for running away, but I just—I was so overwhelmed by everything. I didn’t know how to cope with your return, with Emily’s, with everything. I would’ve been a hindrance if I’d stayed, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run.”

Hotch shakes his head as he steps back to look at you, the dark slash of his brow set as he does so. “What you did was not an act of cowardice. Trust me when I say you are not the only one that has a lot of anger and frustration aimed at me right now. Spencer snapped twice at JJ. Morgan laid into me, and I deserved it. JJ and I always knew that if and when this came to light, that there would be consequences for our actions. It was a calculated risk, and I take full responsibility for it. After you left, I gave everyone the option to leave if they didn’t think they could work the case. You knew you weren’t in the right headspace and pulled yourself out. It was the right decision and no one faults you for it.”

“I’m still so mad at you,” you say.

Aaron’s lips form a tight line. “I know.”

“But I also love you.”

His brow relaxes at that admission and relief floods his gaze. “I’ll take your use of the present tense as a good sign.”

You both chuckle at that and a shiver races through you as a sea breeze catches your hair and sends goosebumps up and down your arms. You wrap your arms around yourself and incline your head toward his SUV. “Your go bag in there?”

He nods and you flick your eyes up and down the length of his figure. “Go on then,” you encourage. “Get it and come inside before I change my mind.” You smile and you feel it reach your eyes for the first time in nearly a week. He withdraws the key fob from his pocket and smiles at it in his hand, before shaking his head with a quiet laugh and turns to head toward the car.

He pops the trunk and returns with his bag slung over his shoulder. “You look good in my shirt,” he compliments you with a sly smile as he passes through the front door. You close and lock the door behind him and point towards the bedroom. “Don’t think flattery will get you off the hook, Aaron.”

“You’re pointing me toward the bedroom, so I can only hope that’s a good sign.”

“Nearly a week has given me a lot of time to think,” you call after him as he disappears inside.

When he returns, his suit jacket is off and he’s loosening his tie from around his neck. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“To be determined,” you muse as you approach him. You finger the tip of his tie and curl your fingers around it before tugging it free and dropping it to the floor.

One of Aaron’s brows arches as he regards you curiously. His hand curves around your hip and you press yourself against him. Heat pools in your belly, but you ignore the sensation, hard as that is after nine months without him. He dips his chin to kiss you and instead of meeting your mouth, he meets your finger instead. You press it against his lips and arch a brow. “Not so fast, Hotch.”

He winces and inhales sharply, a pink blush quickly coloring his cheeks. “I should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.” He admits against your finger. “You only call me Hotch when I’m in trouble.”

Something between a scoff and a laugh leaves your lips as you poke him on the tip of his nose, the slope of which you’d missed so much since he’d been gone. “How about,” you start and loop your arms around his neck, “we just talk? From the beginning, tell me what went through your mind and what led to the decision. We can talk about Emily, her funeral, the grief. You can tell me what you can about Pakistan and I’ll tell you about how hard it was when you were gone. Tell me about when you and JJ knew you had to tell the team and I’ll tell you how it felt like I’d had my heart carved out of my chest and put through a blender. Tell me how it felt when I left and I’ll talk about the ways in which I wish I hadn’t but why I felt like I had to. Tell me why I should trust you and I’ll tell you why I want to, but am afraid. Tell me—”

Aaron catches your wrists in his hands and plants a firm kiss upon your lips. You envelope him with your own and revel in the familiar way they meld together, the taste of him like coming home. He pulls away, though his lips still hover over yours. “I promise I will tell you everything and more. We’ll talk until the sun comes up if that’s what it takes.”

You smile and when you speak, your lips brush against his. “I guess I ought to put some coffee on then.”

•

White rays of early morning sunshine break through the sheer curtains, casting soft light across the bed sheets. For the first time in nearly a year, you wake with Aaron’s arm securely around your waist. You breathe in deeply and the faint smell of coffee lingers in the air, two empty mugs leaving brown rings on the nightstand.

You don’t remember when you two had laid down to go to sleep, but remember laughing about it being 3:00 AM at one point and continuing talking in spite of that; and talked you two had. You’d tackled everything from the decision he and JJ made at the hospital all the way up until right now. You laughed and cried, and so did he. You’d never seen Aaron cry before last night, and you were grateful that he’d felt safe enough with you to be vulnerable like that. As the night had worn on, you’d felt the fractured pieces of yourself slowly start to pull together; that you can both heal from this and maybe even come out stronger on the other side.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand and you reach for it, now being as good a time as any to tackle the number of unread texts and unheard voicemails. You can’t avoid them forever.

8 voicemails from Hotch, 2 from JJ, 6, from Penelope, 1 from Derek, and 1 from Emily. Your brow knits together as you view the time stamp next to her voicemail and it’s marked only an hour ago. Why would she have called you so early? Surely, Hotch would’ve let the team know that you’re safe and that he’s with you.

You open the app and press play, bringing the phone to your ear to avoid disturbing Hotch and Emily’s voice fills your head as you listen in.

“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now…” Her voice is tired and her tone is genuinely apologetic. “…I missed everyone so much, but you. It tore me up inside knowing we didn’t get to say goodbye, that I didn’t get to explain to you why all of this had to happen and you had to mourn me. I knew Hotch would take care of you.” She chuckles softly and you picture her shaking her head. “God, that man adores you, you know that right? Knowing he’d be there to help you through things was a small solace, but I knew that the weight of asking him to keep this from you and the rest of the team would take a toll on him. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Doyle, he never—he never would’ve stopped hunting me and he would’ve used or killed everyone close to me to do so. If there had been any other way, I would’ve done it.” She sighs heavily. “Anyway, Hotch texted the team and myself last night that he’d gotten to you safely in Virginia Beach. I imagine you and him had a lot to talk about last night. It’s probably going to look like I’m copying a page out of his book, but you’re the only person I haven’t looked in the eye and apologized to, so I’ll be there in about an hour or so. Hopefully, you open the door.”

Your eyes widen as you drop the phone back onto the nightstand. After glancing at the clock and noticing it had been an hour and fifteen minutes since she called, you slip out of bed. Hotch stirs, but doesn’t wake and his hand moves to shift under the pillow and he nestles deeper into the blankets. God, he must be so exhausted. From the red eye flight from Pakistan to immediately leaping into and closing the Ian Doyle case, this is probably the first proper sleep he’s gotten in weeks.

The sound of tires crunching over gravel draws your attention to the living room. You pull on a pair of sweats and throw off the oversized shirt you’d slept in in exchange for a tank top, forgoing a bra in the process. You rush into the bathroom and rapidly brush your teeth, accepting there not being any time to fix your tousled bed head.

Footsteps echo up the walkway on the other side of the front door as you approach and before you can think it through, you throw the door open. You only take a second to confirm that it is in fact Emily on the other side of it before rushing forward and throwing your arms around her.

A loud oomph erupts from lips, the sound muffled as you turn your face into her neck. It takes a few seconds for her to react, her arms slowly folding around you as she realizes that it is in fact a hug that you’re giving her and not an attempt to take her to the ground.

Tears leak from your eyes onto the fabric of her purple top. “I’m sorry,” you murmur into her shoulder.

Emily pulls away, her hands not leaving your shoulders as her brown eyes flicker across your face; her features drawn. “You’re sorry? You have nothing to be sorry for. I came here to apologize.”

You shake your head as something between a laugh and a sob bubbles up from your throat. “I’m so mad at you,” you start and reach forward with both hands to clasp her face in yours. “But I am so happy that you’re not dead and I understand why you had to do what you did.” You smile and drop your hands before playfully shoving her. “A bit though, isn’t it? Faking your death and fleeing the country? Where’d you get that idea? Lifetime?”

Emily smiles, flashing her teeth as she inclines her head this way and that. “I did always have a flair for the dramatics.”

The door creaks then and you turn to watch Hotch push the door open. He smiles as he takes in the sight of you and Emily reconciling. “I put on a pot of coffee,” he says. “How many mugs should I bring out?”

You look between him and Emily. “Three,” you answer, turning your attention back to Emily. “Definitely three.”

Emily smiles and follows you inside, greeting Hotch with a short hug before joining you in the living room. As Hotch busies himself in the kitchen and the smell of coffee starts to fill the air, you start to feel like life might finally start to return to normal.

353 notes · View notes

rezitio · 3 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

<- 𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔.

(ɴʙ: ɴᴏᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ɪ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴏʀ, ᴏɴʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ)

BAKI HANMA

:: 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

warnings: BAKI ONLY! oralf!, tit play, exhibitionism, rough play, man handling, edging m!, size kink, fingering, p in v, anal, jerking,

:: ━━━━ HANMA FAMILY TWITTER

LINKS; nsfw .. baki hanma, yuujiro hanma, Jack hanma

YUJIRO HANMA

:: ━━━━ HANMA FAMILY TWITTER LINKS;

nsfw .. baki hanma, yuujiro hanma, Jack hanma

JACK 'HAMMER' HANMA

:: ━━━━ HANMA FAMILY TWITTER LINKS; nsfw .. baki hanma, yuujiro hanma, Jack hanma

MOST EVIL DEATH ROW CONVICTS

:: 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 ƒт

spec, kaiou dorian, ryuuko yanagi, hector doyle, sikorsky. nsfw

MULTI

:: 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐌𝐀 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒

warnings: oralf!m!, tit play, exhibitionism, rough play, man handling, edging m!, size kink, fingering, p in v, anal, somno from Katsumi, possessive unhealthy behaviour!

includes; baki hanma, jack hanma, yujiro hanma, katsumi orochi, retsu kaiou, kaoru hanayama.

:: 𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 ƒт

spec, kaiou dorian, ryuuko yanagi, hector doyle, sikorsky. nsfw

:: BAKI TWT LINKS ⊹ ࣪ ˖┊⋆ nsfw

baki hanma, yujiro hanma, jack hanma, katsumi orochi, kaoru hanayama & oliva biscuit

:: ━━━━━ HANMA FAMILY TWITTER

LINKS; nsfw .. baki hanma, yuujiro hanma, Jack hanma

kengan ashura soon

241 notes · View notes

sl33paholics · 1 year ago

Note

Good day to you <3 !!! Can you please write to headcanon about the antagonists of season 3 of "Baki" (Spec , Yanagi , Dorian , Sikorsky and Doyle) where they kiss S/O (like: forehead, cheeks, etc..) ??? I will be very grateful if you notice >3< ❤

Death Row Inmates Kissing Their s/o Headcannons!

Warning(s): errrrrrr the death row inmates themselves are a warning enough. Mentions of their crimes and a hint of spice (if you squint) a hint of crack on Spec's end

also sweethearts my requests are now closed I have 7 more that I've been neglecting I'm sorrY

Ryuukou Yanagi

Can't Let You Go Just Yet Kiss (on da lipz)

For Yanagi, you're his spouse before he got sent to prison, then becoming a death row inmate (bc he couldn't keep his hands to himself 🙄)

You'd occasionally come whenever you had the chance, although you couldn't bring gifts for him to keep in his square type of cell, the two of you would always exchange letters resulting in scheduled meetings with one another with HEAVY surper vision from the guards

Due to his poisonous hand, Yanagi carefully tries not to do anything out of line whenever his mind is on autopilot. The two of you would catch up on things. How's the outside life been treating you? Are you adjusting to living alone without him home? Is work going well? You know, the usual questions

As time ticks, the two of you begin to reminisce of your lives before it was struck because of Yanagi's stupid actions, sure, you don't agree with his murderous behavior but you'd stick by his side regardless

Yanagi would grab your forearm and pull you towards him. You were just looking so good. The short king couldn't resist kissing your beautiful ass

What felt like an eternity, you felt his hot lips making contact with yours as he had a firm grip on you, holding you close and deepening the kiss, sending frictions down your spine

Hell, the two of you were so lost in thought that the guards finally had to step in and SEPARATE you two as they put the man back in handcuffs.

Safe to say you'd be making more scheduled visits in the near future 😛

Hector Doyle

Unbreakable Snuggle Up Kisses (on the neck)

You're the man's fiancé.

You would've thought that after him being responsible for many killings as an assassin, now being on death row, he expected you to leave. Leave, move on with your life, not being tied to a monster who wishes to finally taste defeat.

But you didn't. And that's what confused him.

With someone with his stature and nature, the thought of his one love finally leaving him did cross his mind a lot when he was in that cell. Only for the guards to bang on his sell and tell him he has a visitor.

To see you at the visitors' longue patiently sitting waiting for him as you analyzed the room, it made him let out a sigh of relief (but not loud enough for the guards to hear 🤫🧏‍♀️)

Doyle IMMEDIATELY sat next to you (although security clearly stated to sit across but bffr they don't want that smoke) getting all up in your personal space, staring down at you with intensity. The man starts to interrogate you. How's life doing? Have you seen anyone ever since he got locked up? Are you doing well on your own? Did anyone know you were coming to see him today?

Without a single thought, he wrapped his arms around you. His one and only, resting his head on your neck and feeling his hot breath on your skin. It felt nice. The man you've been separated for months is now here showering you with affection.

The silence between you two is nice, but it came to a halt when you felt short and wet kisses from Doyle. You quietly tried to move him away, but the red-haired man didn't care.

With his large arms around your body and his kisses becoming more sloppy to the point where he was damn near bitting you to mark your neck up, you couldn't help but to enjoy the fact that getting caught sent a shuddering thrill down your spine.

It only stopped when a few guards had to drag him away from you and cuff Doyle up again. Only for that sly dog to look back at you with a smug grin and him mouthing, "I expect to get another visit from you soon~" while getting escorted back to his cell.

Dorian

A quick, goodbye kiss (on your cheek cheeks)

A longtime partner of his. It was honestly sad to see him delve into his murderous ways, resulting in him being on death row and awaiting his fate.

No letters. No gifts. No nothing from you, surprisingly.

You couldn't fathom the fact that this could either break your marriage completely. It was only until then a serge of letters flowing through your mailbox that Dorian was egar to see you.

So why not make a schedule to see him? It can't be that bad.

Man, as soon as the day came, his big self hugged you so tightly you thought your eyes were gonna pop out.

Somehow, seeing him in this state really made you feel happy. His heavy belly laugh, alongside Dorian sharing his experiences on prison, it really made you two become close again just within a short amount of time.

Hell, he looks like Santa (if he didn't go on the deep end) if you squint hard enough 🤷🏾‍♀️

Dorian would also share short stories that he would remember during his time in the military many many MANY years ago to you.

For the first time, that lost spark that faded all those moons ago finally came back to bring life to your stale marriage.

But when it was time to leave, you didn't want to. Much to Dorian's surpise, you wanted to extend the visit since it's been forever since you've felt this way.

However, it wasn't up to you to decide.

Before he was escorted out, Dorian gave you a big fat kiss on the cheek, and one on the other. It made you cheese up, for your grown age

You're DEFINITELY going back to see him more often.

Sikorsky

A Distracting Kiss (on your forehead)

You were originally a fling turned partner

The thought that you slept with a killer before finding out his true ways definitely shocked you to your core

So it was a surpise when you received a letter to come visit him. You really didn't want to go but hell, you had nothing to do and decided to go anyway

Gosh. The wait and anticipation sent you over the edge while waiting for his arrival, making your hands sweaty. So, seeing his big build stomping towards you as the guards removed the cuffs was pretty intimidating and low key terrifying

The two of you sat in silence. The prison smells. Not the cleanest tables and chairs. Dirty ass walls. Without a single thought, you commented on how this building looks, only for Sikorsky to let out a loud chuckle at what you had to say

The two of you made small talk. It was awkward. You'd thought he'd be the one initiating conversation, but nooo it was YOU

Time was ticking, and the two of you were getting nowhere. You were getting upset. He invited you over only for him to just sit there and stare.

It wasn't until you mentioned that you planned on moving overseas. It's like he had a shift of attitude and wanted to be involved jn what you had to say 🙄

The two of you got so lost in conversation you didn't even keep track of time until the guards began to walk up and ruffled Sikorsky to stand up, but you kept talking

It was only then you felt his huge hands cup your face and bringing you up towards him, giving you a rough smooch on your forehead before you sat back down on the hard metal chair as the men were taking Sikorsky back into confinement

Safe to say that you will be coming back again

Spec

What do I even put for this guy??? (All types of kisses)

Ever since that man escaped from underwater, it's been nothing but hell

But you weren't expecting him to immediately crash at YOUR place

WTF??

You woke up to your face being smothered in kisses from the big bald man with your doors being busted open from the brute force

You wanted to scream out but really, being tied to this man as a middle-aged person was very difficult

You had to deal with the torment of SPEC. The guy doesn't understand the meaning of "personal space" or wanting to be alone just for a good hour

While lounging on the couch, he's there pecking your cheeks with small kisses until you get sick of it

Spec the type of guy to give really, really rough kisses on the lips. He doesn't know when to control himself, often leaving your lips swollen or bruised but will pamper you for being able to handle him

If you just so happened to be in the shower, his tall ass is towering over you while giving you neck kisses, you warned him not to get out of control. This is Spec we're talking about, you're going to have hickeys on your neck and throat

The only time I see Spec being gentle with you whenever you're back from your job, sore and exhausted, he would give your forehead the best kisses ever. Even if you have to deal with them sometimes being sloppy

You love the guy. Even if he's psychotic, an asshole, and many other things combined, you can't deny you love when he spoils you with affection ❤️

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rae-pss · 2 years ago

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i was bored, so take these.

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belongstocaptaindoyle · 2 years ago

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#the alienist #sergeant doyle #captain doyle #captain connor #doyle x reader #connor x reader #ao3 #gothic #gilded age #e x p l i c i t #myedit

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fang-and-feather · 1 month ago

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Ikemen Vampire - Isaac x Reader x Arthur

Fluff, touch starved Isaac, figuring a new relationship

1525 Words

Prompt: Always room for one more for Day 2 of @polyamships' Multiamory March (Using Alt prompt #1)

Since I posted the other fic I wrote in February, I decided to edit and post this one too. This one is from before Arthur and Isaac were dating

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist / AO3 Link

It wasn’t too late yet, but Isaac found both sleep and work eluding him.

He considered going out and stargazing, it usually relaxed him, but the night didn’t feel as welcoming and refreshing as usual, instead it felt weirdly silent and empty.

That feeling was probably his anxiety. Maybe a bath would make him feel better.

On his way, though, he walked by your door and, as if drawn by a spell, he stopped, then approached.

Maybe, - Isaac found the idea ridiculous, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the right answer, - that empty feeling was just him feeling lonely.

You hadn’t been dating for long but, maybe he’d gotten more used to your presence than he thought. You had spent a lot of time together in the earlier days, but now it had been a few days that your interactions had just been at meals, and you stopping to wish him goodnight.

Which you hadn’t even done today, but that was probably his fault. He did tell you he was quite busy.

Isaac wondered if you were sleeping and, if not, if he really should bother you.

For what? To tell you he was lonely? Since when had he become so needy?

Still, he could at least wish you goodnight, right? That wouldn’t sound too ridiculous.

But then he heard a soft laugh inside. A good sign you were awake, but that wasn’t just your voice.

And that reminded him of why he’d pushed for these few days of distance from you.

He still wasn’t sure how and why he’d agreed to this situation - it felt right sometimes, but at others it was still confusing - but when he realized his feelings for you, he’d been ready to bury and try to forget them because you were with Arthur. But you had come and told him you loved him, and explained this concept you called polyamory.

Sometimes Isaac still wasn’t sure why he accepted this arrangement, but that was probably just his brain trying to process the situation logically. He didn’t know anything about normal relationships and this was what he was thrust into.

And maybe you noticed that, and it was why you were dedicating so much time to him. But if you were spending so much time with him, what about Arthur? He was your original boyfriend, after all.

That was when Isaac started feeling like this wouldn’t work out. He needed time to sort his thoughts and feelings, so he distanced himself with excuses and gently nudging you to spend more time with Arthur… He never thought he would miss your presence so much in just a few days.

But now he just couldn’t get in the way of you doing exactly what he hoped you would do. So he turned around to leave.

Maybe that was how things were always supposed to be. There was no way this crazy idea would work. He should never have hoped there would be room for him in this relationship. He should…

“Isaac?” Isaac spun around to find you standing at the now open door. “Are you okay, love?”

“I… Yes. I was just passing. I needed a break.”

“More than a break. It’s late. Sorry I didn’t stop by. You said you were quite busy.”

“It’s fine. You…”

He stopped when Arthur came up behind you.

“Is this an attempt at a midnight rendezvous, Newt?”

“No! I said I was just passing by.”

“Really? Because I distinctly heard your footsteps stop by the door for a little too long for someone who was just passing.”

Arthur gave him a knowing smile, and Isaac knew there was no point in arguing. He’d been caught.

“I just wanted to know if you were awake.” Isaac’s answer was directed at you. “Thought I should wish you goodnight since I was here. Sorry if I interrupted your… date.”

“You’re not interrupting, Isaac.” You also smiled at him.

“In fact, you’re more than welcome to join us.” Arthur added with a suggestive grin.

You also caught the meaning no-so-hidden in his words and shot him a glare.

“That’s not what was happening. I couldn’t sleep, so we were talking. But you are more than welcome to join us if you want. We would tell you in advance if we wanted some private time, otherwise, no matter what we’re doing, you can always join us “

“Even if we are in the middle of…”

“Arthur!”

Arthur just smiled as you glared at him, then he motioned for Isaac to follow and walked back into your room.

“Sorry for that, but I guess you know how Arthur is.” You gave him an apologetic smile.

Isaac nodded. He knew it way too well at this point. But as embarrassing as Arthur could be, these comments helped Isaac feel better. It meant Arthur truly wasn’t bothered by the interruption.

“Does that mean you will join us? I was serious, you know? You’re welcome whenever you want.”

You stepped aside and Isaac walked in. Arthur had already taken seat on your bed, and as soon as you closed the door, you took your place by his side, patting the space on your other side in invitation.

Isaac sat at the edge of the bed, still unsure if he should be there, but unable to deny both you and himself. You chuckled and kissed his cheek, then leaned on him.

“Why are you still so nervous? Something still bothering you?”

“Is it me? Or the talk we had the other day?” Arthur asked, sounding surprisingly serious.

Isaac shook his head. He still didn’t have an answer for Arthur, but if he didn’t have other things in mind, this would be a good opportunity to find one. His problem was that he had no idea what to do and how to act in this situation.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to stay.” You told him, leaning back, but Isaac found himself missing your touch.

He sighed, but let himself chase that weird need, removing his shoes to make himself comfortable by your side.

You wrapped an arm around his back, pulling him closer and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” You asked gently.

Isaac nodded, giving you a smile. He could see, on your other side, you had your other arm around Arthur and he slightly leaned on you too. A part of him felt like, surprisingly, this arrangement worked.

“Good. I missed this. And I was afraid you were avoiding me.”

Isaac opened his mouth to answer, but he didn’t find words. Now that he was here with you and Arthur, his previous reasoning seemed rather silly to admit to.

“Let me guess,” Arthur spoke, after Isaac remained silent for a moment longer, “you were really avoiding us, because your first week didn’t fully convince you that our relationship could work, am I right?”

Isaac was barely surprised that Arthur had figured him out. He sighed again, and as you pulled away slightly, he turned to look at you, also noticing the surprisingly gentle way Arthur smiled at him.

“You are. But It sounds quite stupid now.” He leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours. “I love you, and I really want to give this a chance, but that doesn’t change the fact that none of this makes sense to me.”

“We are learning too, Isaac. I might have a better idea of what this is, but I never really thought I would be in such a relationship before, so I never really tried to learn enough. We’ll figure this one together as we go and sometimes we make mistakes. That’s not stupid.”

“Besides, it was our fault.” Arthur added. “I was the one who suggested she spent time with you so the two of you could figure out your relationship first. But we failed to inform you, and I guess you worried about our relationship because of that. Sorry.”

“Yeah. Sorry to worry you. But that doesn’t mean this won’t work, just that we have to learn to communicate better.” You pulled away, just enough to kiss his forehead. “That includes you telling me when you have a problem. Even if it’s just that you are feeling lonely.”

Isaac felt his face heat up at the comment, but as much as he wanted to protest, he really couldn’t deny how much he missed you these days. So he only leaned closer to you, seeking more contact.

He watched you exchange a glance and a quick kiss with Arthur, then you kissed his head again, hugging him closer.

“No matter what you decide to do, never forget I love you.” You added in a whisper.

“I love you too,” Isaac whispered back, then he turned his gaze to Arthur. “And thank you for supporting me.”

“You know I love you too, Newt.” Arthur winked.

Now Isaac was sure he was blushing, and he diverted his gaze. He still hadn’t given Arthur an answer from the talk they had the other day, but he felt like with both of you being so welcoming and accommodating, he would have one soon.

Tag List:

@tele86, @nightghoul381, @natimiles, @bicayaya

@eventinelysplayground, @queengiuliettafirstlady, @2-lines-and-a-circle

If you want to be tagged/untagged on future writings, you can reply to this post or send me a message

IkeVamp Masterlist / General Masterlist

#MultiamoryMarch #MultiamoryMarch2025 #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #ikevamp isaac #v: arthur conan doyle x reader x isaac newton #ikemen vampire #fanfiction #ikevamp fanfic

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