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fernpetals · 23 days ago

Text

After Life: The Past

Masterlist

Yandere Neo Anderson Headcanons

Part II

Based on this idea

Warning: NSFW-ish, stalking, creepy behaviour, violation of privacy, obsessive tendencies, red flag 'nice guy' Thomas, deviations from the original matrix plot, and characterisations, hints of social awkwardness and anxiety.

Inspired by a post about dark Neo by @97keanu and some late-night discussions with my mutuals (wink)

Unedited piece

Thomas Anderson was a socially awkward sceptic, living in alienation. Grinding through the monotonous cycle, while being aware, at the back of his mind, that something was very, very wrong with this world.

Thomas Anderson could only peek from his cubicle as you greeted your colleagues and went on with your day.

You adhered to your team. Never mingling too close to the rest. You were not impolite. Quite the opposite. Sweet smiles, nods of acknowledgement– polite and professional. But that was it.

Despite your politeness your kindness, you were not an open book. You gave an impression of being one, though. Knowingly. Or unconsciously, Thoman did not know. But despite his keen eyes, he could decipher only a little about you.

A part of him always longed to walk up to you and start a conversation. Maybe during coffee, or snack breaks, or when he would find you in the break room, all by yourself, scribbling something.

He would linger, but never get the courage to walk up to you. The most he had done was smile, nod, and greet you. You, of course, sweet thing, greeted him back with that devastating smile of yours that left his throat parched.

Thomas Anderson’s sweet brown eyes would meet yours across cubicles, and he would sigh. He did not want to think too much about you. He had no idea what truly intrigued him, but he couldn’t stop.

He…had to know more about you. The enigma that you were. Quiet, kind—with your perfect smile, sweet eyes, and polite mannerisms. No one was perfect, surely you were no exception.

Thomas liked to tell himself that he was merely curious about the human tendencies— deception, envy, anger, destruction—perhaps the most self-destructive race to ever walk on earth. Yet something innate within prevailed. The will to go on.

Thomas Anderson was curious by nature; he was snooping into your personal life—your digital files, simply out of curiosity.

Neo was the name associated with data breaches that made it to the headlines, shook up the security systems of governments and banks alike. Yet he chose to use his skills and time on you. Your digital files, on digging up information about you.

It would seem to be grossly wasted effort in the hacker community that respected NEO so much.

But he did not regret one bit. Who knew 'Miss Polite and Perfect' had a digital diary? Who knew that her dark humour stemmed from the scepticism around the world, the way it was? You seemed more similar to him than he had thought before.

But that was not what made his blood race. It was what you had written. Short scenarios and stories of utter debauchery.

Poor, poor you, writing her fantasies that would ‘never be probably fulfilled, 'it’s all too much, too good. Your words, not his. The fact that you did not expect any man to bring you the pleasure you imagined in those writings made him tick.

More than once, he had his pants unzipped and length out, leaking and angry as he read through your 'scenarios' and got off.

There were also personal musings and mundane happenings that you wrote. How your day went, what you thought of your teammates, who you liked, who you disliked, the one co-worker who would always be passing back-handed compliments and taking credit for your work.

Thomas found himself engrossed in your life. Even to the most mundane and minute details. The way you like your caffeine first thing in the morning, the fruits you liked, and what thoughts ran through your head. Your perception, your reality, you, you, you.

He did not mean to, but it became his motivation to go home and sit in front of the computer. His search for ‘Morpheus’ was not going anywhere anyway. Instead, he focused on reading and knowing all about you.

Reading as you typed into your digital diary, and the next day, finding the correlation between your words and actions in the office.

You were pissed one night—all your hard work gone into the name of a pesky coworker. You wrote as you could see the prospect of promotion slipping from your fingers.

Thomas should not have bothered himself with it. He was not even bothered about his own promotion. He had no definite ‘vision of the future’ for himself. But it was the unjust treatment you were facing that made his jaws tighten and sweet brown eyes harden.

He knew he should have minded his business. Not even once, during months of reading through your digital diary, did he find his name. You never noticed him. He was simply one of the many employees you greeted and forgot.

He wished you would notice him. You never did. And it made something gnaw out from the gap in his chest.

Why would you not notice? Look at him. He was the one who left you a cup of coffee just right on your desk. You liked it, and he saw your smile. You should be trying to guess and find out who it was.

Why wouldn’t you just look at him? Okay, it was he who could never gather the courage to walk up to you, but he wished you would think of him, even for once, and mention him in the digital diary.

He began to obsessively search through your diary, trying to find anything remotely connected to him. You did not think of him at all. Though not surprised, it did hurt him a little. A more rational part of him knew that it should not hurt him, but how would you know?

But he was happy to see you happy and thriving. The bully of a co-worker being fired for compromising company information did not really make you happy, as he thought it would.

He spent hours breaking into the system and making it happen. But you were happy when the promotion you were eyeing landed right on your lap. It felt worth the effort.

When it was announced in the office, he was one of the first colleagues to congratulate you.

He made efforts that day. He chose a better shirt, he put time to comb his hair, he wore a more expensive cologne, he made conscious efforts to straighten up his shoulders and try keeping his nervousness down.

He was good at keeping a front, but his palms were sweaty. He had to wipe them off when he approached to congratulate you. Your hands felt so warm and soft, he thought they had finally found a blanket cosy enough to keep his soul warm.

But he ended up tripping over, almost falling until you caught him, looking at him with concern, asking if he was okay, pointing out the beads of sweat all over his forehead and nose.

He thought it was a lost battle until you pulled out your handkerchief to pat over his forehead and nose. “Thomas, you look stressed.”

He looked at you, eyes blinking in utter surprise, “You remember my name?” You noticed him? You had noticed him before?

You chuckled. “Of course I do. I greet you every day, do I not?”

He could only nod. “Are you…Are you hungry? I was about to grab lunch, but it’s okay if you aren’t. The lunch is never good anyway, it's boring, I will just slide into the cafeteria and—”

“Yeah sure.”

“What?”

Your slow smile was a knife gradually pushing into his chest. “Let's go and grab lunch.”

And so began the habit of grabbing a bite, or simply coffee with you. At times, he would just get you a cup if you were too busy to leave your cubicle and chat away for a while. Every time he would arrive at your cubicle, he couldn’t help but glance at the desk.

He nodded to what you said, listened to. But every now and then, he would be distracted thinking about how good it would feel to pick you up and place you on that desk while he stood between your legs.

If you preferred pants, he thought about how fast he could pull them down and unzip his. If you wore skirts, he imagined how your naked thighs would feel under his fingers.

His eyes would drop to your tinted lips—was your lipstick smudgeproof? He preferred it wasn’t. He could rub his thumb over your lips and watch the lipstick smudged all over. You would look prettier being a mess.

But most of all, he liked to hear your giggle, or the full-blown laughter that would turn heads in the dead and awful place. Nobody seemed to like any signs of life. The indoor plants felt fake, and everyone seemed to just type away like some robot in their cubicles.

He liked to imagine that you two stood out, laughing, softly initially, before busting into giggles and laughter that you two tried and failed to suppress.

He loved your laughter the most. The sound filled him with life, like moondust all over him, light filling him, like something restarted inside him. Like he could ride into the sunset with you by his side, laughing, talking, hair ruffled by the wind.

He could not believe how fast he turned from merely a colleague you greeted to becoming your friend. He knew he could be more than that, the flirty back and forth, the lingering stares, the awkward silences.

He would spend night after night, smoking through his thoughts and mindlessly scrolling through his computer after reading your diary. You began to write about him. You began to think of him. You began to look forward to talking to him every day you walked into the office. You liked his company, you thought he had the sweetest brown eyes and the best dry humour.

The night he finally managed to ask you out was also the day Morpheus made contact with him. For the first time. It was a phone delivered to him.

It was also the day the agents took him for interrogation. They somehow knew that Morpheus had contacted him.

The next thing he knew, he woke up in his room, and it seemed to be a nightmare. But it felt so real. Did the agents know that he was NEO? Did he show them the finger like he had been showing to the world, that felt very, very wrong? His surroundings often unsettled him.

He asked you the next day if there were any strange men dressed in suits in the office. You were just as clueless as the rest. It had to be a dream, he told himself, trying to shake off the eerie feeling.

“So, this weekend, right?”

When you asked him, looking up from the seat, expectant eyes and cheeks dusted with a tinge of warmth, Thomas was happy to shove the whole experience down at that moment.

“Yes, at seven. I’ll be waiting.”

It was the eve of your first date when Thomas was offered the chance to finally see Morpheus. The man he had been chasing for over a decade.

He was presented with a choice even before he was offered the choice between the red and the blue pill.

He glanced at the street that would lead him to the place where you would be waiting for him, and asked himself if he could live with the doubt and questions for the rest of his life. If he were content in a world that unsettled him?

The answer was no.

He could not. He needed answers. He needed to see Morpheus. So he made his choice. He got into that car, driving away from that street, but he felt like he had left a part of himself there.

When he finally met Morpheus and was presented with a life-defining choice, he asked one question: “Will I be able to come back here as I please…Like you do?”

Would he see you again?

It was a cryptic but affirmative ‘yes’.

And he made the choice he always knew he would. Even though his heart broke at the moment. But he had to know. He had to see the truth; he would always choose the truth.

His mind was consumed by your thoughts when he swallowed the red pill, and he thought of you after taking the pill.

You…

He knew you would be waiting in that cafe, but knew that had he chosen to walk away, he could have had a future with you. But he also knew that he could never live with the questions. This blind chase had to come to an end. He needed answers. He needed to know.

He made a choice, and nothing was the same again.

****

There will be a part II

#yandere neo anderson #yandere thomas anderson #neo anderson x reader #dark neo anderson #keanu reeves scenario #the matrix #keanuverse #yandere keanu reeves imagine

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paracosmenthusiast · 10 months ago

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Servicing the Tech Guy

Neo x Reader based on the ~dark~ prompt from @johnwickb1tsch circulated to me by a good friend @daisy-is-a-writer

18+ | sexual content | 4.2k

It was a long shot and you knew that, and waiting outside of his apartment was (at the least) creepy and (at the most) borderline psychotic.

But what other choice did you have? In your hands, the two pieces of your laptop. You couldn’t afford to replace it, at least, not before your quarterly report was due, which was tonight, by the way, and all of your hard efforts were there in the broken halves of your laptop, you didn’t have time to figure out a solution.

Besides. You were fighting back tears as it was. Two nights ago you had broken up with your long-time partner, it was his fault your laptop was broken, and you didn’t really want to think about it anymore but it was there in the broken device in your hands and you couldn’t avoid thinking about it. What was something you never wanted to see? Oh, yeah. Naked pictures of your (now ex) boyfriend including videos of him rubbing his cock which he had callously sent to… Well… A innumerable number of women over the internet.

The craziest part of it all was that he had sworn to you he didn’t do it, he didn’t cheat on you, that he had been so secretive lately because he was ring shopping!

But your friend had pointed you in the direction of an internet private eye who had hacked into your partner’s accounts and produced the irrefutable evidence so without literally thousands of screen captures in hand, you had a pretty damn hard time believing your partner wasn’t cheating.

And speaking of the internet private eye—fuck, what was his name? Neo? You were outside of his apartment like a goddamn stalker, holding your broken laptop, rapping impatiently on his door.

Last time you’d seen him you’d remembered him as very tall, very dark, with a very low and husky voice and an air of seriousness that unnerved you. Like he’d seen things in the depth of the internet that hardened him.

A big part of you doubted that he was going to take pity on poor little you and fix up your laptop or at the very least, pull your quarterly report off of it, but you had to try. What else could you do?

Tears burned in your eyes again. Damn it. Thought you’d gotten that under control—

And perfect timing, because you heard the lock click, and the door slid open, just enough for you to see him peering out at you.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. You (idealistically) thought he sounded pleasantly surprised.

You held up your broken laptop, mouth opening to unveil the funny, funny story of why you needed his help yet again, and before you could get it out, a sob burst out instead.

Double damn it.

Neo snapped the door shut—you heard the chain rattling—and then he opened the door fully, now frowning down at you. Just as dark and tall as you’d remembered except he didn’t have that long, black coat anymore. Now he… Honestly looked like he’d just crawled out of bed, in a loose pair of flannel pants and a white t-shirt decorated with a graphic outline of a bunny (hadn’t that been his private eye business logo?).

“Uh, come in,” he said, when it was clear you weren’t going to get words out over the tears, and he stepped back to let you inside his apartment.

It was just as you remembered it a few days ago. Relatively clean and sparse but with the lights off and the windows covered by heavy blackout drapes, not that it mattered now because it was pouring rain outside the apartment building, and half past 10pm.

His hand on your shoulder startled you. “Are you coming inside?”

You shuffled forward, one foot after the other. He reached for the wall and flicked on a light over the entryway, revealing that he’d been cooking and there was a lasagna sitting on the counter looking beyond delicious and smelling twice as good.

You sniffled, and tried to stop yourself from crying further. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I just—I have this big report due tonight, and…”

You gave your broken laptop a little shake. The screen was in one hand, the keyboard in the other.

Neo shut the door, bolted it, and then gave you another little push, guiding you to walk further into the apartment. Away from the plate of lasagna that aggressively beckoned. Your stomach flip-flopped: How long had it been since you last ate? Why couldn’t you remember?

God, this breakup was murdering you. Why couldn’t you have waited until after the quarterly review period had closed?

“Totally fine,” he said. “Uh, have a seat. I’d ask what the problem is, but I think I can put the puzzle together myself.”

And then he reached for your laptop and you reluctantly surrendered it into his hands. His fingers brushing yours startled you—the warmth, almost electrical, did not match the guarded expression on his face.

“Taking the breakup hard, huh?” It’s a rhetorical question. He wasn’t even looking at you, just took the computer over to his desk in the corner, not bothering with the light, and flipped the laptop upside down.

You awkwardly perched at his two-person dining table. The same place you’d perched a few days ago when he’d briefed you on his findings. The parallels depressed you and before you could stop it, a few more tears slipped out.

He looked up like he had some sort of sixth sense and turned around. “Why are you still crying?”

You frowned.

He turned back away and sighed. “It’s easy. The drives and data are all fine, just the monitor is busted. It’ll be ten minutes to pull everything, if that.”

Then he put the laptop down and strode back across the room, you tensed as he passed and you weren’t sure why, except that he came back with a fork and the plate of steaming lasagna and put it in front of you.

“Help yourself.”

You were a little agape. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to take your dinner.”

“I already ate.” He walked back to his work station and the conversation was over—you could tell from his curt tone.

One more frown from him, and you obediently picked up the fork. Then he turned away to work on your laptop and you fed yourself.

Actually, it helped a lot. Filling your stomach and not having to think about the breakup, just thinking about the taste of the pasta and the sauce on your tongue, layered with some hearty, almost smoky meat; it was a pretty damn good lasagna.

By the time he came back to the table, you were over the tears. He stood over you for a moment and when he didn’t say anything, you looked up from the finished plate of lasagna. “Uh, thanks for the lasagna. I’m sorry for showing up with no notice. I—How much will it be? I do plan to pay, I’m sorry, I’m a mess right now.”

“Lot of information,” he said. “Slow down. I don’t need payment, seems like you’re suffering enough from the last time I saw you. So. Just take it.” And he placed a USB drive in front of you.

“Ah—” Shit, how were you going to submit your quarterly report?

“I already sent your report.” He tapped the USB drive, and you found your eyes wandering up his arm—he was nicely developed, in a way you didn’t expect from a guy working in tech. Like, at all. “It was pretty easy to log into your work email. You should probably change your password. First name, last name, and your birthday? Seriously?”

You flushed. “Shut up, I’m not that creative. But—um. Thanks. This is great. This is way more than I could’ve hoped for.”

For a moment he was silent, then he reached out and brushed your hair back from your face. A motion that startled you enough to make you jump.

“I changed my mind. I want payment.”

Yeah, you couldn’t fault the guy for that. “Okay—Um, what sounds reasonable to you?” You didn’t have your wallet but you could send it over your phone. If your phone wasn’t dead. For that matter, he could probably just take whatever money he wanted, anyway. Jesus Christ—technology was terrifying.

“I want a date,” he said. “Go on a date with me and we’ll call it square.”

You blinked. Now you were properly agape and for some reason you found it incredibly hard to look at him so you stared down into your lasagna. Or the leftovers of it. “Uh, Neo—fuck me, that cannot be your real name, is it?”

“Close enough to it. What do you need my real name for?”

Not that you really expected him to give you his real moniker. Ugh. “Um, okay. Neo, I just broke up with a long-term partner, I’m… I’m a mess. I don’t really have time or desire to go out with anybody right now, but, you know, in a couple months, sure. Why not.”

He tapped the USB drive. “Now I regret proactively sending your report for you. Alright, then I’ll take a kiss. A long one. And slow.”

You looked up, thinking he had to be joking, and he was smiling, but in a way that put a nervous tizzy in your stomach. Fuck. He was attractive—and tall—and muscular—Honestly, what would it hurt?

“Alright,” you acquiesced. And opened your mouth to continue but he leaned down, one hand reaching out to steady your face, and immediately kissed you.

Oh, he was a good kisser. He was a very good kisser. His lips were soft and when his tongue touched your teeth you didn’t mind at all, because you had to squeeze your thighs together, uncomfortable with the heat growing low in your stomach, and when you tasted his saliva it made it nearly impossible to remember to breathe.

You pulled away.

“I said a long one,” Neo said, murmured it really, because he was still an inch or two from your face, “and slow, too.”

And he pulled your face forward, fingers tight on your jaw, and kissed you again. And you let him. Again. This time you shut your mouth, to keep it chaste, and without a second of delay he bit your lip. Hard. Until you gasped a little at the sharp pain.

His hand slid to your throat, for just a second you wondered if you’d gotten in over your head, except that the rest of your body was very onboard with this new course of action, and you couldn’t breathe well enough to complain, anyway.

Neo pulled you up from your seat, almost roughly, crushing you into an embrace that would’ve hurt except it felt good and strange to be held after the last two very lonely nights, and you breathed out, and he kissed your teeth, and you forgot for a moment what the fuck you were doing and you put your hand on his hip to steady yourself and you felt bare skin between his shirt and the waistband of your pants and it felt hot like fire.

His hand wrapped around your wrist, still kissing you, deeply, and then he put your hand over his crotch and you were confronted by the thick bulge in his pants.

You shouldn’t have done it, should’ve pulled away, but for some inane reason you just—you gave it a little squeeze. Just, you know. Trying to get a feel of how big he was.

It felt big. It was hard to tell (although you didn’t think he was wearing underwear) but you thought it felt pretty damn big. You slid your hand along the waist band of his pants, toying with the button fly, until your fingers slipped through the gap in the front of his pants and you felt the warmth of his bare skin beneath.

Then the two of you broke apart, and you found you were sweating a bit, and your hand was half inside his pants, his skin was hot and you were inches from touching his cock and he was looking down at you, and he was looking down at you, and his eyes were so dark and so—mysterious, and deep…

And besides, you were wet, you could feel it between your legs, you were wet, you were sweaty from nerves, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

“I am so sorry,” you said. What the fuck was wrong with you? “I—I’m not trying to lead you on. I can’t do this, I just had a breakup—”

“Yeah,” he said. “So you deserve a win. Right?”

And without warning he scooped you up, so easily like you were a feather, hands tight on your thighs, all too close to gripping your ass. More to catch yourself than anything you wrapped your legs around his waist, startled by the sudden change in altitude. And of course it put your pelvis right into contact with that bulge in the front of his pants that you couldn’t seem to stop bumping into.

Oh yeah. That felt big.

He kissed your neck, you felt his teeth nip at the skin, and then he bit down, and the rush of pleasure and adrenaline made you gasp.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “I think I do deserve a win.”

He hmmed his approval, almost like a laugh, and you ran your fingers through his dark hair, gripping it close to the scalp, enjoying the soft strands, the cedar and musk smell of his skin.

Then he turned, still holding onto you, his face still tucked close to your neck (surely he could hear your erratic pulse) and carried you to the bedroom.

A moment later he dropped you on the bed, a little unceremoniously except it was so soft and big and the comforter was so plush that you didn’t even mind. You’d been staying in a shitty motel on account of, you know, the breakup.

For a moment you forgot about your impending endeavor and luxuriated in the soft bed, a little moan of happiness leaving your mouth, and he laughed, rousing you from the moment. “Having fun?”

“Fuck, I missed a real mattress,” you said, and ran your fingers over the comforter. “It’s—Oh.”

He had taken his shirt off, revealing a nicely defined and trim torso. But more than that. He pulled his pants down, then, and you could see his cock unrestricted by his clothes. And you were right. It was big. And thick.

He ran his hand down the length of his cock and smiled at you. “Take off your clothes.”

The authoritative tone made it hard for you to freeze, and without a thought you pulled your shirt over your head and reached down to unbutton your jeans. Why’d you wear skinny jeans? Why did they have to look so damn good but then cause so many damn complications during attempted hookups?

“I thought you were pretty when I first met you,” he told you, causing you to pause. “But you’re more than pretty, you were just so… Lifeless.”

You frowned.

“I don’t think you were really all that happy with him anyway.”

You frowned, further, because thinking about your ex was not going to make this little sexual escapade fun. “Can we—not talk about this?”

Neo smiled, and then grabbed your arm and lifted you up like a doll and turned you over onto your stomach. “You’re taking too long.”

You were stunned by the action so you couldn’t reply, he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and yanked them down to your thighs. Pinning your legs together because goddamn it, why had you worn skinny jeans?

His finger trailed up the inside of your thigh… Down the inside of the other thigh… Then he slid his finger teasing down to the the wettest part of your panties and you flinched at the unexpected touch. “Oh, are you excited?”

“Fuck you.” You were embarrassed and it made the words come out rough. “Can you—not tease me? I told you, I’m a fucking mess right now, and I can’t—I can’t…”

As you spoke, he gently pulled down your panties, and right as you formed the most impassioned part of your sentence, you felt his mouth on your clit and suddenly all the words escaped you. Disappeared into thin air.

Didn’t want to but it came out of nowhere: you let out a soft little moan. It wasn’t that good, just, his lips were so soft, his mouth was gentle and warm and he ran his tongue over you and his teeth passed over your clit just enough to send a shiver through your whole body, and yeah, it was that good. Fuck. Oh, fuck. You moaned but this time it was because you wanted to, because you’d never had the opportunity with your ex because he hated noise during sex—

“Oh,” you said. “Fuck.”

He replaced his mouth with a finger, gently teasing your opening, feeling along your labia, tracing the shape of you, and then gently slid his finger in. When he spoke it was so quiet it was barely audible over the sound of your pulse beating in your ears. “So wet for me already.”

Irritation, hot flash of it. “I’m not wet for you—”

“Why is that so hard for you to admit?” He took his finger out, leaving your walls to clench miserably around nothing, and then for a moment you felt nothing, and when you craned your neck to look over your shoulder at him, it was just in time to watch as he brought his hand down and slapped your ass cheek. Hard.

This time you gasped out of pain and before you could process it, he did it again; and a third time, and a fourth. “Stop! Stop it, Neo, that really hurts!”

He did it again and you braced yourself on the bed, leveraging yourself up onto all fours, so you could turn over onto your side to properly look at him. Except he put his hand on your thigh in such a reassuring manner and said, “calm down. I’m sorry, I got carried away. You really have the most perfect ass.”

The compliment in conjunction with the cool tone disarmed you, and you looked over your shoulder at him, unnerved. Trying to gauge what to do.

He smiled. “Relax. I want you to enjoy this. I just got carried away.”

“Yeah, well, fucking don’t, next time—”

“Next time? Who’s carried away now?” He grabbed the hem of your jeans right at your ankle and in a coordinated motion you found quite impressive, he pulled it over your foot, effectively freeing your leg from the vice-grip of the skinny jeans.

So impressed were you that you offered your other ankle, dumbfounded at the ease, and let him do it again, so you were bare with just your panties rolled down to your thighs, and your ill-fitting bra barely hanging on.

He leaned forward, still meeting your eyes, and then kissed the inside of your ankle. You found yourself thanking the universe that you’d had an everything-shower this morning and your legs were exfoliated and lotioned and everything was shaved or trimmed the way you liked.

“Keep going,” you said. And he smiled again, climbed onto the bed between your legs, and this time his lips landed just above the inside of your knee. You were a bit breathless now. “A little bit higher.”

Your thigh. You swallowed. “Higher.”

He kissed the inside of your thigh, so close, and then ran his tongue over the spot, and up, until he had found your clit again—

You tried to stifle a whimper but he heard it, and then straightened up, wrapping both arms under and around your thighs and jerking your hips up so you felt the whole length of his hard cock against your entrance.

For a moment he didn’t do anything, just let the head of his cock rub against you, until you found yourself clenched in anticipation, until you grabbed at his forearm and hissed at him to do something.

“Do what?”

Why was he playing this ridiculous game? “Put it inside!”

“Put—What?”

You growled. “Put your cock inside me and fuck me, Neo, please.”

He smiled, and reached down to gently place the pad of his thumb against your clit. Stroking in slow and gentle circles that did nothing to alleviate the lust clouding your head.

Then he put the tip of his cock against you and pushed, and it was so much thicker than you were anticipating that you gasped a little. Actually it didn’t feel great—it kind of hurt. “Slow down!”

“Stop it, keep going, go faster, slow down… So many mixed messages.” He still had one arm wrapped around your hip but obligingly he pulled out. For a half a second before he thrust forward and this time the head of his cock pushed all the way in, and you were scrambling to adjust, squirming on the bed except he had your hip pinned so you couldn’t move.

You lay there, breathing a little hard, looking up at him, walls clenched tight around his cock, and before you could tell him that it didn’t feel that great, he slid his hand to the underside of your knee and lifted your leg so he could kiss the sole of your foot.

The soft, wetness of his mouth on your toes distracted you from the mild discomfort of him stretching you out, and worse. You were a bit ticklish so you squirmed and his tongue between your toes was so soft and warm and nobody had ever done that before. You weren’t sure you liked it but it definitely relaxed your taut muscles and you abruptly felt his cock press up to your cervix.

“Fuck,” you gasped, and he gave no more delay, pulling out and thrusting all the way back in until you felt the tip of him against your cervix, “Fuck, Neo!”

Another couple of thrusts and you found it all too easy to let yourself moan. It felt good. You’d never had someone so deep inside you and holy fuck, it felt good.

Neo reached down, scooping up your leg and placing it over his shoulder, lifting your hips off the bed. The angle put his cock even deeper inside you and you let out a little strangled cry, half at the discomfort, half at the unfamiliar sensation of something rubbing against your cervix.

It felt…

“You’re so fucking tight,” Neo said. “You’re really squeezing my cock, aren’t you? Does that feel good?”

You wanted to remind him that you didn’t want to be embarrassed but you kind of just let out a gasp or a moan or something and he leaned down and kissed your neck, tongue running over the sore spot he’d bit earlier, and that made you forget about any embarrassment.

You ran your hands down his bare back, digging your nails into the muscles as they flexed, enjoying the suppleness and the warmth of his skin, until you felt him suck in a breath of pain and you realized how tightly you’d latched onto him.

Tried to apologize—but he simply lifted up your other leg onto his other shoulder and pressed down into you, until your knees were jammed against your collarbone and he could fuck you easily without resistance.

And at the very first thrust that way, both your legs up over your head, you couldn’t hold it a second longer. “Fuck,” you said. “Fuck, fuck!”

Felt yourself squeeze tight around his cock, and release, and squeeze, you couldn’t control it; suddenly the feeling of his abdomen rubbing against your clit as he fucked you so deeply was unbearably sensitive and you were clawing at his back this time to get him to stop because you were—

Oh! It was an orgasm! All your muscles locked up, you gasped out some strangled version of his name—

And then you felt his cock throbbing inside you, and he wrapped his hand under your neck and pulled your head up, compressing your spine even further and—you felt a rush of warmth as he came.

He thrust a few more times, but much slower, and then gently peeled your legs off his shoulders and sat back on his heels to look at you.

You could barely look back at him. Your mouth was open in shock, your abdomen felt like it was seizing, and your vagina was so sensitive that the open air was over-stimulating.

For a moment the two of you breathed, and he ran a hand through his hair. He was sweaty but for some reason you didn’t mind it, didn’t mind his sweaty skin still touching yours. Actually you could probably lick the man clean.

“Did that—”

You interrupted. “I’m—I’m not sure I’ve really paid you back for, uh, helping me with my laptop. But, you know. If you could help me get a new one then I’d really owe you.”

For a second he didn’t seem to get it. And then he grinned. “I think we’ll have to look into some payment plans, then.”

the rest of my keanu stuff is on my master list: masterlist

#Neo #the matrix au #neo imagines #neo x reader #neo x female reader #smut #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #thomas anderson #the one

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littlemisslomax · 10 months ago

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“Omg Neo’s so hot and badass! I wish I could have Neo, he’s such a cool hero with cool moves.” WRONG. I WANT LOSER, SHY, COMPSCI NERD EXTRAORDINAIRE, THOMAS A. ANDERSON! Bro has probably seen non-virtual t¡ddies ONCE (1) and I want to be the second.

#keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanu reeves x reader #keanu #keanu characters #neo #the matrix #pre-matrix neo #thomas anderson

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babsharrison · 8 months ago

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Between Worlds II - Neo x Reader

Pairing | Neo Anderson x Fem! Reader

Summary | After choosing to follow Neo into the real world, you find refuge in your relationship with him amidst the chaos of the Nebuchadnezzar. Despite the harshness of reality, moments of intimacy with Neo bring comfort and strength as you face the challenges together.

Word Count | 1.1k

A/N | This is the second part of the other fic. I'm not sure if this one is good, but I want to leave it here anyway. 🥹 (And no one's bald here, lol)

The air inside the Nebuchadnezzar was dense, filled with the incessant sound of machines and the buzzing of surveillance systems echoing through the narrow corridors. The real world was a landscape of destruction and darkness, and the ship, despite being a refuge for survival, was far from comfortable. Still, amidst all this, there was one constant you learned to value more each day: the presence of Neo.

He was standing, adjusting the controls of one of the machines, with the concentration that characterized him. You approached, crossing the tight space, and gently leaned your shoulder against his, watching the monitors beside you. Neo turned his face to you and smiled slightly, a small gesture that only you could recognize as affection.

“I think these systems are never going to stop making noise,” you commented, trying to lighten the mood.

He chuckled softly, a rare sound coming from him. “That would be asking too much.”

You looked at the work he was doing and, without saying a word, began helping him adjust some cables. Working alongside him had become part of the routine, a way to keep yourself occupied amidst the chaos of the real world, but also to share moments that reinforced the partnership between you. You could feel the rhythm of your breaths synchronizing as you worked together, a silent understanding blossoming in the air.

As you continued, Trinity passed by the room, casting a playful glance in your direction. “You two make a good team,” she said before leaving, a smirk playing on her lips. Her words hung in the air, a reminder of the bond that was forming between you and Neo.

Neo looked at you, and with an almost imperceptible smile, shrugged. “I think I’ve gotten used to having you by my side,” he joked, but there was a sincerity in his words that made your heart warm.

You continued adjusting the machines, your movements synchronized as if you had done this a thousand times before — which you indeed had. There was a naturalness in how you worked together, something that only came with time and the intimacy of having shared much more than just battles. It felt as though each task, each moment spent together, was weaving an unbreakable thread of connection between you.

After a while, when you finally finished, Neo looked at the console with approval. “I think this should hold up for a while.” He powered down the systems and stepped back, gently pulling you by the hand to follow him to one of the quieter corridors of the ship.

When you reached a small, secluded corner, he stopped and looked at you with a calm gaze, but full of meaning. “Are you okay?” he asked, and although it was a simple question, there was a depth to it, as if he was always checking to see if you were truly okay amidst all the uncertainty.

“I am, now,” you replied, smiling. He held your hand more firmly, a gesture that needed no further explanation.

In that moment, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of intimacy. Feeling the energy between you, Neo stepped closer, his face almost touching yours. “You know,” he began, his voice lower and filled with emotion, “even with all this chaos, I feel… different. Your presence makes everything seem more bearable.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart race. You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “I feel that too. Being with you makes everything lighter.”

Before you could say more, he slid his hands around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours was electrifying. Neo leaned in and captured your lips in a kiss. The kiss began soft and exploratory but soon intensified, the growing passion making your hearts race. Your hands found their way into his hair, gently tugging as you surrendered to the moment.

Neo, in a tender gesture, wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him. The intensity of the kiss enveloped you in warmth that seemed to melt away all the uncertainties of the outside world. The sound of the machines faded into the background, and the only sound that mattered was the sigh that escaped your lips.

You exchanged caresses, your hands exploring each other’s contours, as if you wanted to imprint every detail in your memory. He caressed your back delicately while you allowed yourself to be swept away, losing yourself in that moment of intimacy. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, a steady rhythm that echoed the connection growing between you.

“Neo,” you whispered, pulling back slightly to look into his eyes. There was a flicker of something deeper there, a shared understanding of what lay beyond words.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his thumb tracing your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. The world outside faded away, and it felt as if you were in your own little universe, where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you pulled away slightly, your eyes still locked onto one another. Both of you were breathless, but there was a satisfied smile on your faces.

“That was…” you began, but the words failed you, and you simply smiled, filled with a warmth that went beyond the physical.

“I know,” Neo replied, his tone full of understanding. He leaned in again, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead, a gesture that conveyed affection and protection.

Feeling the warmth between you, you whispered, “One more, please.” And Neo complied, pulling you in closer again as the two of you lost yourselves in that moment of affection, knowing that, despite the constant battle against the machines outside, you had found a safe space full of love in one another.

When he finally pulled away, still holding your hand, you both walked through the corridors of the Nebuchadnezzar, not as two individuals trying to survive, but as a team, as two people who, despite all the difficulties, had found a way to build something amidst the chaos.

As you walked, you exchanged small glances and shy smiles, the intimacy of your earlier moment still lingering in the air. You felt an overwhelming sense of hope; in the darkness of the world outside, you had found light in each other. You knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand.

The humming of the machines and the distant echoes of the crew bustling about faded into a comforting backdrop, and in that moment, you realized that even in a world that had turned upside down, love could blossom in the most unexpected places.