#I feel that sleep deprived brain barely working | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months

Text

But do you love me?

a/n this just came out of nowhere. Had a little break and my brain said Azriel. So, I said yes in return.

summary: Azriel and oc having silly conversations before falling asleep. Or more like Azriel dealing with a slight sleep deprived lover.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was late, and Azriel was more than thankful that he had a chance to slip away from his family and spend the night on the outskirts of Velaris, tangled up in his lover's embrace. The relationship was fairly new. Azriel had fought his heart and feelings as if it were a battle of survival for a handful of months. He denied the fuzzy feelings until he was blue. He crushed the delicate butterflies every chance that he got. Waiting for you to leave. To come to your senses and realize that he wasn’t worthy of your love.

But you stayed. Stayed and fought back. Not letting him fully push you out. Always showing up. Always remember the little things that Azriel enjoyed. From knitted sweaters to lavender tea. From slightly open windows at night to lemon sugar cookies. You let him set the pace with almost everything. Physical touch was a touchy subject, no pun intended, for the spymaster, so you let him make the first move. Get familiar with what he liked. Yet Azriel was convinced that he was never going to forget the smile on your face when he finally reached to hold your hand after your tenth date. The sky might have been full of stars that night, but your eyes shone brighter then the brightest start in the sky ever could.

Now the spymaster let out a content sigh at the feeling of you pressing against his chest. The hour was rather late, but since both of you had no plans, neither of you cared about it. But it did feel heavenly to finally lay between plush sheets after a long day. Azriel was a step from slipping into blissful sleep when he felt you turning in his embrace. Your palms pressed into his bare chest as you moved to hover over him slightly.

The shadowsinger opened one of his eyes lazily. You were biting your lip. A sign that something was still brewing in your head. Azriel tried to suppress his smile at the sight of you like that, slowly reaching to push some loose strands of hair behind your air.

“Out with it, my love," he muttered softly, watching as your eyes landed on him, instantly sparking way brighter. “This is serious, by the way," you warned him instantly, making Azriel frown slightly. “I never said that it wasn’t. What’s keeping you up?" He shifted his body slightly as well, wanting to have a good look at your face.

You watched him for a heartbeat before muttering, “Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Azriel stilled for a moment, letting your words sink in. For a moment, he thought that maybe he had heard you wrong, but the determination on your face washed that thought away.

“Yes, sweetheart, I would still love you," he reassured you, but you shook your head, muttering, “No, don’t think about me as in me; think about me as a worm," you added in a serious tone. Azriel bit the inside of his cheek, “Yeah, I think you would make a pretty cute worm." He nodded his head, making sure to keep his face straight.

“What about if I was a dust bunny?", you practically cut into Azriel’s last statement, making the male let out a low chuckle, but since your mind was working faster than Azriel could pull himself to answer, your palms hit his chest in excitement as you muttered, "No, I have a better question; do you think butterflies are intelligent?”.

That sent Azriel into a full-body laugh. He simply couldn’t contain his laugh anymore. It’s not so much that he found it silly and pointless. It’s the way you were determined to get an answer as if it determined the most important part of your life.

“I'm serious, Azriel," you groaned, clearly not as pleased with your boyfriend’s reaction. Azriel nodded his head, still smiling. "Yes, I think they are." You nodded alongside him, "But... Why?”. Azriel bit his lip, trying not to fall into another fit of giggles as he muttered, “Go to sleep, baby." Tugging at your arm, Azriel hoped to get you closer to him once more. But you had other plans and turned to flop down on your back next to him instead. "No, how will I sleep now?", you huffed, raising your hands in frustration.

"Love," Azriel pleaded. It was entertaining to watch you in your slightly sleep-deprived form. Not to mention that it got him thinking about how a night after Rita’s would look if this was how your brain worked when you were tired. “Where do they fit their brain?", You tapped your finger against your forehead, frowning slightly. “Oh, Mother, please," Azriel growled, turning to flop right onto your chest. Aware of his size and weight, but enough to keep you in one place. And most importantly, to keep you close to him. Azriel gently nuzzled against your neck, opting to leave a kiss or two as he went. And was more than happy to feel your hands slowly moving to scratch the back of his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair.

"But..." you muttered after a moment. “Do you love me?” Your voice was barely a whisper. "Yes," Azriel muttered again, pulling back to brush his nose against yours before leaning closer to capture your lips in a kiss. He knew that, for the most part, you had been anxious to date him too. And even if this was all fun and games, Azriel couldn’t help but wonder if, in a way, this was your nagging doubts needing that extra reassurance.

“But do you?", your delicate gaze searched him. Azriel crooked his head to the side. “I just said yes. My answer hasn't changed, love," his fingers gently brushed against your cheek. “But you said it without you knowing..." Your voice died down as you searched for the right words. A slight frown paints your face. “Without what?", Azriel smiled at you, waiting patiently for you to pick up your battle in your head.

“Without the bedazzle," you crinkled your fingers, narrowing your eyes. “A what?", Azriel was left frowning once more. “The umpf," you urged, making tiny expressions with your hands. Azriel let out a low sigh. “You are losing the plot,” He moved one of his arms around your middle, pulling your body closer to him as he turned to lay back on his back. “Go to sleep," he muttered against your ear.

But your peaceful stillness lasted no longer than a heartbeat. “That was mean," you pouted at your boyfriend. "Love", Azriel grunted as you pushed against his chest to sit up. His fingers tried to hold you back, but you batted his hands away. “Naah, now I don't want to sleep facing you," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Trying to keep a serious face even if the look on Azriel’s face was worthy of a chuckle. You watched as he calculated his next answer before muttering,

“Are you about to start your cycle?”, the moment a gasp left your lips, Azriel knew that he shouldn’t have. Both his and Rhys’s mothers had drilled it into their heads that one should never ask females questions regarding their cycles, especially ones that imply their behavior being affected by it.

“Azriel, I will suffocate you in your sleep”, you scrunched up your nose right as Azriel leaned over to tackle you into the plush sheets, once again wrapping you in his warmth. You, however, didn’t give up the fight, wiggling in his embrace. I tried to huff and puff, but soon the sounds turned into laughter. “Stop moving around," Azriel chimed as his fingers danced along your ribcage. “You are squishing me," you wheezed, your eyes filling up with tears. Happy tears. Azriel kissed them away one by one. “Give up the fight, darling," he mussed, “and just go to sleep, please." Azriel chuckled as you tapped against his chest, taking in deep breaths to catch your breath.

“But do you love me?", you bit your lip, trying to suppress yet another chuckle when Azriel dropped his head back with a growl. Exposing his toned neck. Making his ink-covered muscles flex. Before he narrowed his eyes at you. “Yes, yes, and yes," he stated. “Even if you were a worm, a slug, a bird, a boat, or a sticky bun," Azriel listed one thing after another. “I love you now and most definitely will love you in another lifetime." His hazel eyes were full of affection as he spoke. "Screw that," he huffed, leaning in to press his forehead against yours, “I will love you in all the universes, all the worlds." The shadow singer watched as you bit your lip, trying to suppress the wobble in your chin. “Even if you’re a wildflower in the field and I’m the morning breeze passing through, I will still love you”, Azriel’s words were met with a shaky exhale. And then both your legs and arms were messily wrapped around him as you pulled him closer. “Careful, or I will crush you," Azriel chuckled, trying to keep some of his weight off you, but you didn’t seem to mind. “You are the sweetest, most precious male I have ever met," you muttered into his embrace. “Doubt that..." Azriel had begun to object to the fact that you had called him precious, but your finger had found his lips before he could say anything else. “I love you, and to me, you will always be just Azriel," you said, “My Azriel with a heart of gold."

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar imagine #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #acotar x you #acotar x reader

968 notes · View notes

brairslair · 9 months

Text

just self indulgent eddie filth i wrote while sleep deprived, ur welcome

18+ ONLY (minors dni)

a/n: i love the opposites attract shit idk smth abt it is just sooo

cw: one use of the word “slut”, eddie running his mouth as per usual, light exhibitionism, kinda hinted at a corruption kink but barely, shitty writing

don’t forget to like, reblog, and comment to support my work! mwah <3

“gotta keep quiet for me, princess”

Your parents were right downstairs preparing a lovely dinner, which you had invited your sweet boyfriend to. Soon after you had also invited him on a house tour, leading him right into your pretty pink bedroom, where you may or may not have left out some of your best lacy little panties for him to see, which got you to where you are now.

“Shhh, you gotta keep quiet for me, princess.” Eddie reminds you, gravely and hot in your ear, chest leaned down to press against your back, “Wouldn’t wanna get caught now would we?”

You bite your lip hard, forcing down a whine as you shake your head. Manicured nails tug at your dainty floral sheets and your arms begin to shake from holding yourself up. Your eyes dart over to the door to make sure it hadn’t magically unlocked itself, head spinning.

Every thrust sparks the ebbing fire in your belly, the head of his dick rubbing just right against your spongey walls. A particularly hard thrust pulls another soft moan from your lips, your arms collapsing beneath you as your face falls into your pillow. He’s doing it on purpose.

You whine his name out, long and desperate, muffled by the fluffy mass beneath you. You can’t decide if it’s too much, or not enough, but your hips push back against his.

He rubs his thumbs soothingly on your hips despite the way his hips pick up in pace, cooing out an “I know, baby, I know.” and “It’s all too much, isn’t it?” hushed words dripping with faux sympathy.

Your nails claw deeper into your sheets, getting dangerously close to ripping them. You can feel the pleasure building up rapidly, getting dangerously close to release but still needing more, more, more.

“Eddie-“ your whole body is trembling, and your stomach tightens with restraint, “Ed- I’m gonna-“

“Oh yeah? Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” you clench around him in response, panting with the effort to stay silent. “Gonna make a mess on my cock in your pretty little bed, baby?” Tears start to form on your lash line, and your chest aches with a suppressed sob.

You don’t notice when a hand slides its way off of your hip, and suddenly his finger is on your clit, rubbing it cruelly and making your brain go completely blank.

Before you can make a sound, his hand is in your hair, pulling you flush against his chest and muffling your pretty noises with his lips. You can feel his breath getting heavier and his thrusts getting sloppier.

His lips migrate down to your jaw, leaving sloppy kisses along your flushed skin, “Come on, pretty girl, I know you can do it.” His kisses on your sweet spot, and his fingers circling your clit, and his cock buried so deep inside you, and it’s all too much.

“Go ahead. Be a good little slut and soak my dick for me, sweetheart.”

His hand clasps firmly over your mouth as you fall right over the edge, stifling your screams and sobs of his name as your vision hazes over.

“Attagirl”

asks are open!

791 notes · View notes

lovelyhan · 1 year

Text

— ode to you ⟢

if there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. he can be crass. he can be secretive. he can be nothing short of vexing. but in the end, he's everything you need him to be.

or: 25 lives in which you find and don't find jeonghan.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x gn!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 6.9k words

★ TAGS; reincarnation, multiple lives, pining, angst, suggestive scenes but no smut, sooo many tropes

★ WARNINGS; mentions of blackmail, implied murder, implied depression, mentions of puking/vomiting, mentions of car accidents major character death

★ NOTES; i was supposed to work on my collab fics but i feel like i've gotten a little rusty w my prose so i wrote this as a little writing exercise of sorts :D i've written for other fandoms in this format before and i thought it was high time i did the same for seventeen with my ult of all ults <3 i hope you enjoy!

this is inspired by tongari's 25 lives

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @Idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti–red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon

★ JEONGHAN TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @bias-recs - @lunaryoongie

01. the very first time i remember you, you are blonde and you don’t love me back.

One strict rule that you make sure to uphold with all of your clients is that business comes first before all else.

You're a well-known freelancer that lands gigs left and right from high-end fashion brands and magazines alike. The only way your career managed to survive in such a cut-throat industry is because of the strict professionalism you never failed to maintain.

That's until you meet Jeonghan for the first time.

Fluffy blonde hair framing his face, curling just along the edges. Slanted eyes that crinkle just a bit whenever he smiles. And a lazy grin that betrays just how nonchalant he is about the entire thing. Like he knows he's gorgeous he is and how everyone else in the vicinity is aware of the fact, too.

You've worked with a handful of people with breathtaking features in in the past, but there doesn't seem to be any word in any language that could encapsulate just how mesmerizing Jeonghan is.

For the first time in your career, you find yourself wanting to reach for the subject being captured by the lens of your camera. Just to make sure he was an actual person and not some doll crafted from fine silk and porcelain. The fact that he's modeling with a bouquet of lush flowers does little to your peace of mind.

But your innate professionalism overrules whatever nonsensical desires your sleep-deprived brain could conjure in that moment.

Once you're satisfied with the material you've come up with, you're quick to dismiss Jeonghan and the rest of the team, and call it a day. You have another shoot to oversee in less than two hours and you'd like to avoid the rush hour traffic if you can.

Yet, despite your urgency, you stop halfway to the door to the studio—casting a sidelong glance at the person who's supposed to be one of your temporary colleagues and none else.

"Jeonghan," you call out, his name tasting bittersweet on your tongue. "It was nice working with you today."

He barely glances up at you from the soft glow of his phone screen, not even a smile spared your way.

"Yeah, sure."

02. the next time, you are brunette, and you do.

Yoon Jeonghan is the biggest menace you've met in your life.

Not only does he keep stealing your parking space in the office basement and plucks off the last brownie in the pantry during break time, but he's after the promotion you've been vying after for months, too.

Needless to say, he's public enemy number one in your eyes, and all your colleagues are well aware of the scorching rivalry you two constantly waged in the workspace.

But on the night before you're set to present the proposal that you swear up and down would make your superiors choose you over that sniveling prick, the Devil himself swoops into your cubicle with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Do you really not see it?"

You frown at him as you shove your laptop into your bag with an air of irritation. "See what? That they're going to select you for the promotion? I don't, actually. That's why I'm—"

The words promptly melt on your tongue when Jeonghan forces a hand on divider separating your space with the others—trapping you with a sleazy look on his face. His dark brown tresses fall across his piercing eyes but you force yourself to hold your ground.

In the midst of it all, a moment's worth of familiarity crosses your mind.

Blonde hair styled to perfection. A bouquet of flowers just as beautiful as the man that models for them.

How long has it been since then?

"Can't you see that I'm only doing all this to get your attention?" he chuckles. "I've always known you're a bit slow on the uptake, but you might need an extra push in the right direction."

You gulp nervously. "W-What's that supposed to mean?"

Jeonghan shakes his head, amusement dancing across his features in a way that makes you want to smack him, if not for the laws imposed on the land.

"Have dinner with me tonight and I'll withdraw from the competition" he propositions. "How's that sound?"

...Isn't this blackmail? It definitely sounds like blackmail.

But despite knowing that you should just bring your knee up to smash into his family jewels, your face heats up with the implications of his offer instead.

An offer that you begrudgingly accept.

03. after a while i give up trying to guess if the color of your hair means anything.

"Really?"

Jeonghan grins when he steps into your apartment sporting his newest dye job. You're perfectly aware that idols these days get the most outrageous hair colors, but you didn't think his stylist would be daring enough to pull off long purple hair for Jeonghan just a few months after his group's debut.

Over the years, Jeonghan cycles through a lot more colors than you'd ever thought he'd be willing to try. Blonde, pink, red, brown, silver—all of them, he pulls off with grace.

Even when his idol days are over, he still gets bouts of wanting to march into the nearest salon for another makeover, and you rectify this by just buying the cheapest bleaching kits online despite his whines in protest.

"Our stylist noonas would've been alright with a house call." He pouts just a little as you force him to sit still. "It might come out all patchy."

"Do you have so little faith in your partner's bleaching skills?" you huff, dipping the brush you have in one hand into the bowl of sharp-smelling bleaching mix in the other. "Your stylists noonas charge a fortune, too. We're better off doing it ourselves."

Jeonghan laughs. "You act like we can't afford it."

Turns out, you fucked up the portions of your little bleach concoction and your harmless session resulted into googling first aid for bleaching burns and soaking Jeonghan's scalp with coconut oil for the rest of the day.

"Sorry," you mumble as you help rinse out the oil the next morning. "Do you want to contact your stylist or head to a salon instead?"

Despite your wary disposition, Jeonghan merely breathes out a chuckle, taking your hand in his as he meets your eyes in the bathroom mirror.

There, two rings glimmer in the morning light—the one he shares with his twelve brothers and the one you slid onto his index on the day of your wedding.

"I've been through worse, love. This is nothing," he insists before pressing a soft kiss across your knuckles. "Let's just let my scalp rest for a few days before we dye it, okay?"

You shake your head with a laugh. Really, what are you supposed to do with this man?

"If you insist."

04. because even when you don’t exist, i'm still in love with you.

"You got my name wrong again."

In the middle of packing a takeout bag for the food delivery guy waiting in the corner of the café, you look up to some familiar college kid standing in front of the counter with a furrow on his brow. A regular, maybe.

"Sorry?" you ask, brain a little too frazzled to make sense of what he was trying to say.

Said college kid shows you the underside of his cup—the name Jeonghan scribbled hastily onto the material.

"My name's Jeongin," he sighs. "I've been coming here everyday and I swear, you always get it wrong."

"Well, I'm so sorry, Jeongin, I'll make sure it doesn't happen again," you manage to wrench out before calling out to the delivery guy, saying the order was ready for pick-up.

Funnily enough, you end up living together with Jeongin by some twist of fate. Your shoes are lined up with his outside the apartment, toothbrushes lying in the same cup in the bathroom, and you even steal his hoodies every now and again.

But what you don't tell your boyfriend of five years is how you still dream of the man whose name brought you together in the first place.

A man who you don't get the pleasure to meet in this life, much like a dozen others that came before.

05. i remember most fondly those lifetimes where we get to grow up together

In the past (though its definition is a little...unique in your case), you were convinced that just because Jeonghan is the sole singularity to which your existence is anchored to, that doesn't necessarily mean you'll get to have him and him alone in each life.

Yet in this one, you're fully convinced that he's the only person who'll ever have your heart.

It's on a cold, winter afternoon when you realize that you're in love with the boy that showed you how to cross the monkey bars in elementary school. The boy who gives you his packed lunch whenever you forget yours at home. The boy who taught you how to pick locks so you could sneak into his father's liquor shop and get drunk behind the counter.

Jeonghan has always been a fascinating person in whatever life you meet him. But now that you've got a taste of what it feels to grow up alongside him—witnessing him transition from a snotty kid to a troublesome adult—you can't picture yourself wanting anyone else.

He's rightfully startled when you confess your feelings merely minutes after having realized them. You've lived through this endless cycle of meeting and parting ways enough times to know that there's no room for uncertainty.

And each time he accepts you with open arms, the relief that washes over you feels like the first time all over again.

06. when i share my secrets and sorrows and hiding places with you.

There are times when you're the one who doesn't remember the lives you've lived in the seemingly endless cycle.

When you meet Jeonghan in this life, it's with shoulders carrying the weight of emotional baggage and dreams that have been crushed right before your eyes. It's an understatement to say that you're inexplicably drawn to him as if he's a beacon in the dark. But even if you're yet to remember, Jeonghan has always been easy to trust. Easy to fall into.

One night is particularly heavier than the rest. Your meds aren't kicking in the way they're supposed to and it's raining much too harshly to pay your comfort person a late night visit.

Yet when you call your boyfriend as you choke on your own tears, he's at your door in half an hour—paper bags full of all your favorite snacks in hand with a smile that feels like a ray of sunlight amidst a raging storm.

But he's quick to drop all of it and pull you into a hug when he sees the mess you are in the living room.

"I'm a bad person," you sob into his chest, clinging to the fabric of his jacket as he placates you in his tender embrace. "I'm s-selfish and always just think about myself. I've done so many terrible things, Hannie... How could you even love someone like me?"

Jeonghan doesn't answer right away. He calms you down for the better part of an hour before rising to get you a glass of water in the kitchen. Your boyfriend watches with quiet attentiveness until the look on your face tells him that you're ready to talk again.

"So what if you're a bad person, love?" he murmurs before planting a kiss on your forehead. "Tell me every terrible thing you did and let me love you anyway."

Despite yourself, you let out a soft laugh. "Which cheesy pocketbook did you pull that one out of?"

"Hey, I drove for thirty minutes in the rain and this is how you thank me?" He huffs before reaching for a bag of chips he haphazardly strewn across the coffee table, tearing it open and offering you a piece. "I read that on Pinterest, by the way."

07. i love how you play along with my bad ideas

In many, many lives, Jeonghan is not yours to love.

And that's okay. There isn't a fine print stating that because you're blessed (cursed?) to meet him in each lifetime, you're meant to be together against all odds.

Fate is fickle like that—so unpredictable that you never really know how to act whenever you do cross paths with Jeonghan eventually.

Still, even if you're not destined to be lovers, you can still love him in other ways.

Like helping him sneak out of his third period lecture so he can come watch local street performers hold a fundraising show in some underground bar. You do all this because he once told you that he wanted to support them in any way he could.

If only Jeonghan could see the grin on his face that gets wider with each dancer that takes the stage, he wouldn't have a hard time wondering why it was so easy to fall in love with him.

"So when's the next time you'll help me sneak out of a lecture?" Jeonghan asks as the two of you head back to campus at a mellow pace even if Jeonghan's next classes starts in ten minutes.

You hum as if genuinely contemplating. "Maybe after you do me a huge favor in return for this one."

Your shoulders bump together as he lets out an easygoing laugh. As the late afternoon sunlight filters through a canopy of trees and onto your best friend's face, you feel a tug at your heartstrings that urges you to pull him in for a kiss.

But you don't.

08. before you grow up and realize that they’re bad ideas.

"Are you sure this is safe?"

Jeonghan's voice sounds considerably spooked when the amusement park staff locks in the over-the-shoulder restraints. The buzz of excitement from other visitors rings in your ears and he seems to be the only person that isn't looking forward to being on a rollercoaster.

"You act like this is the first time you've been on one." You roll your eyes. "Just relax and feel the wind on your face, yeah? If it gets too much just hold my hand or whatever."

You should not have offered in the first place because by the time the you've made two trips around the wildly looped tracks, you're convinced Jeonghan has already cut any and all circulation to your fingers with how tightly he's gripping your hand.

But still...you can't deny that it feels a little nice to be needed by him.

09. (and in our lives together i have many, many bad ideas.)

“Do I know you?”

Jeonghan makes the mistake of blurting out those very strange words when he catches you sitting right next to him at the bar. You startle when he breaks the ice, fully convinced you're the one who had to initiate when you deliberately slid into the stool to his right.

Amused, you study him without much of a real expression before the tension in your posture melts into gentle laughter.

“No,” you say with a tone that suggests you're making fun of him. “But we could get out of here so we can get to know each other better. What’s your name?”

A dozen expressions flit across Jeonghan's face in mere seconds and you would've laughed again if you didn't know the reason behind the perplexity of his reactions.

“It’s Jeonghan. But you can call me…”

Before he can get the rest of the pick-up line out, he promptly throws up all over your outfit.

10. when we meet as adults, you're always much more discerning. I don't blame you.

"Again."

Your sweat beads across your forehead and drips onto the floor as you catch your breath. Palms braced across your knees, you look up to your mentor with a resentful glare.

In this life, Jeonghan—who was considered part of the 'anemic line' in his group eternities ago—is now one of the most well-known choreographers in the industry and would probably put Soonyoung to shame with how much of a perfectionist he is when it comes to your routines.

"Can't I get a five-minute water break?" you plead.

"You can get one when you think you deserve it," he says flatly before crossing his legs. "Do you?"

Much to your chagrin, you're just as much of a perfectionist as he is in this life. You shake your head with a guttural sigh, forcing yourself back into position despite your muscles aching for a break.

You don't miss the way Jeonghan smiles at your display of determination, but you don't let yourself think much of it either.

11. yet, always, you forgive me.

Jeonghan is upset with you.

He has all the right to be, really. You promised that you'll leave enough candy bars from your Trick or Treat haul to last both of you for a week, but you ended up overeating while binging your afternoon cartoons and now there's only one stick of chocolate left in the hollow, pumpkin-shaped bucket.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "Do you want to go to the candy store to buy some more? I can break my piggy bank if—"

"No, you're saving up for that new game on your Nintendo DS, right?"

The fact that he actually remembers that makes you gape at him. "Um, yeah, but it's no big deal. A candy bar is only worth a few—"

Not giving you any leeway to speak any further, Jeonghan grabs the last candy bar inside the bucket—tearing the packaging open with his teeth before breaking the chocolate in half in the middle. Despite his annoyance, he hands you the other half with a small pout.

"Then just keep saving up so we can play it together," he grumbles and even when he's barely eight years old, it comes so natural for him to show you how much he cares about you.

12. as if you understand what’s going on

"Do you go here often?"

You flash the stranger who's speaking to you a befuddled look—not expecting to hear a line typically used on you in bars at your father's yacht club, of all places. He's wearing tattered jeans and an atrocious pink flannel over an equally tattered shirt. You wonder if he's just going for an odd aesthetic or if he's in dire need of a closet makeover.

"No. I'm just waiting for my father," you tell the man honestly before glancing at the boats docked by the pier. "He bought another yacht that I'm sure he won't even think of after bragging about it to his friends."

The stranger laughs. "I know how you feel. My old man's just as materialistic as yours sounds."

Oh. Maybe he is just going for an odd aesthetic with his fit after all.

"Wouldn't have thought you were a nepo baby, too," you snort before kicking a lone pebble into the water—watching it sink into the depths until it's out of sight. "I thought you were one of the boys that maintain these things while their owners completely forget about them."

"Hmm, I can be anything you want me to be," he chuckles and even if you've only met this guy five minutes ago, something about his laughter sounds so oddly familiar.

"The name's Jeonghan, by the way." The not-so stranger smiles and the feeling that you know him from somewhere intensifies tenfold.

"What's yours?"

13. and you're making up for all the lifetimes in which one of us doesn't exist

You like to think of yourself as an independent person.

You've crossed literal lifetimes in the strangest rendition of immortality that you've never once read in all the books you've deigned to pick up in this never-ending eternity. It's only natural for you to be self-sufficient.

But when it comes to Jeonghan, you always get to refamiliarize yourself with what it feels like to be lonely.

There are things about him that you consider irreplaceable: the curve of his easygoing smile, the warmth of his slender fingers, and the touch you yearn for constantly.

You're perfectly aware that you don't need Jeonghan for all these lives to gain some semblance of meaning. In fact, it's in the lives where you don't meet him that you get to learn a thing or two about yourself.

But when he is there, when he's the reason you get out of bed everyday, you simply think that a second of being with Jeonghan in the flesh is worth more than a lifetime in his absence.

14. and the ones where we just, barely, never meet.

Your phone is pressed into your ear in the middle of the grocery store because your good friend Joshua thought it was the perfect time to rant about his insufferable boss.

Being the lovely person that you are, you let him talk your ear off as you parse through the cabbages on display—wondering which one you should bring home for salad night.

"He's such a fucking prick, you know?" Joshua groans out the same sentence for the third time since you picked up his call. "No wonder his wife is having an affair behind his back. That's karmic retribution if I've seen it.''

"Shua, have you ever considered just resigning instead of making me your therapist?"

"I have, it's just that finding a new job is way more of a hassle than dealing with my asshole boss everyday," he grumbles. "But about the therapist thing—thanks for always listening to me. I know I can be annoying at times but you always put up with it any..."

Joshua's voice fades into the backdrop of your mind when you spot a flash of pink in the corner of your eyes. You instinctively turn your head in the direction of a stranger running towards the exit of the supermarket—wearing an atrocious pink flannel that you would recognize anywhere in any lifetime.

You briefly apologize to Joshua before ending the call, shoving your phone into the pocket of your jeans before leaving your push cart to chase after the figure receding from your line of sight.

You just barely catch him hopping onto a bus when your instincts lead you to further outside. You would have sprinted for a ride, had it not been for the children that obstruct your path with a little game of tag.

By the time you finally shake them off, the bus has already driven past the intersection—snuffing out the candle, leaving you in the dark.

15. i hate those. i prefer the ones in which you kill me.

You've watched a dozen serial killer documentaries in your lifetime—well, lifetimes. They always start the same way: a psychopath with a way with words charming his next unsuspecting victim into their utter demise.

While you absolutely did not know that this life's Jeonghan will turn out to be a crazed lunatic that gets off on seeing another human being's blood on his hands, it doesn't really change the fact that your heart is still tethered to him despite.

He still smiles as sweetly as you can remember as the tip of his knife glides along the column of your throat. His voice is just as comforting in those lives where he'd never forget to kiss you good night right before going to sleep.

"You're such a pretty little thing, aren't you?" Jeonghan murmurs. "But you'd be so much prettier if you just lay still."

The last thing you remember seeing is the angelic look on his face as if he's the one who'll personally escort you to the next life.

You don't particularly mind.

16. but when all's said and done, i'd rather surrender to you in other ways.

It's only amidst the post-orgasmic clarity that you realize how much of a fool you are.

These quick trysts you share with Jeonghan are brief. He invites you over under the guise of something that isn't sex for the sake of propriety, only to pull you into his apartment and kiss you until stars danced behind your eyelids.

He's flicks the cigarette he's having on the ashtray as he complains about a coworker he's been trying to get with for the past month. She likes playing hard-to-get, but I like her so much that I don't really mind? Is that weird? Oh, do you want a smoke, too? Sure, let me light you a quick one in a sec—

You're a fool because you've spent dozens, if not hundreds of lives chasing after him—whether you yourself are aware of it or not.

To Jeonghan, this is a life he probably won't remember in the next. To you, it's another inescapable death sentence.

"Maybe you should drop the nice guy act," you suggest before taking a drag of your own—not caring how the ashes stain Jeonghan's crisp white sheets despite his protests. "Showing your true colors is what got you to land me, you know."

"And we all know how much of a catch you are." He winks before killing his cigarette on the ashtray.

You're about to respond with an eyeroll until he plucks the cancer stick off your hands as well, disposing of it the same way he did with his own. When Jeonghan maneuvers himself on top of you again, you let out a withering sigh.

"Maybe I should just date you instead," he giggles before leaning down to nip at your ear, slender arms coiling around your waist. "What do you think?"

"You already told me before that I wasn't your ideal partner, asshole," you remind him with a huff.

Jeonghan hums, a noncommittal sound that seems like there's something else layered underneath. "But what if I told you that already changed?"

It's enticing—the possibility of getting to have him again when you couldn't really call him yours right now. But you know better than to take things that aren't meant for you.

At least, not in this life.

"Stop saying silly things and just fuck me already," you grumble, already tugging off his boxers. "Then you'll delete my number right after so you can finally get with the woman of your dreams. Got that?"

17. even though each time, i know i'll see you again, i always wonder

You've always looked forward to summer.

No more grueling classes. No more deadlines to catch up on. Summer means you get to go back to your hometown for a few weeks, unwinding in ways that your usual schedules don't quite permit you to.

Summer also means you'll get to visit Jeonghan again.

Your mother already has food and flowers prepared in advance—saying Mrs. Yoon kicked up a huge fuss when she found out you were going back home this weekend. You receive the news with fond laughter, noting how the flowers Jeonghan's mother picked out are reminiscent of the ones he held in the very first life you met him.

"I'm graduating next year," is the first thing you tell Jeonghan when you arrive, popping open two ice cold sodas before settling yourself on the grass in front of him. "Can you believe it? Four years of college, just gone in a flash. If you actually went through with your performing arts scholarship, you'd know how I feel."

"I'm thinking of getting a job here instead of the city. You know, so you won't feel too lonely without me," you chuckle, the moisture of your drink beading across your fingers. "Although, your sister keeps insisting that they give you plenty of company already and that I should chase after my own dreams first. She's starting to sound a lot like you, you know that?"

Jeonghan doesn't respond. Of course he doesn't. But you can almost hear his stilted laughter in the warm breeze anyway.

You place the flowers and the cola in front of his gravestone with a bittersweet pang in your chest. But before the tears can get the chance to escape, you turn on your heel and leave the cemetery altogether.

You didn't always look forward to summer after the accident that took the love of your life away. But knowing that your best friend—your soulmate—would simply be waiting for you in the next life, things became much, much easier.

18. is this the last time?

"Don't go..."

Jeonghan murmurs the words between drunken hiccups as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You chuckle, smoothing your hand across his sweater-clad back as he clings to you like a koala.

"Hannie, what do you mean?" you whisper as you glance at the mess of empty bottles you'll have to clean up from the coffee table once you put your boyfriend to bed. "I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls away from you briefly, puffy eyes glistening with tears as he lets out a shuddering sigh.

"I had a dream that you left me for some guy named...Jeongin, or whatever," he mumbles. "I promise I'll treat you better than anyone else. Just don't...leave me."

In some way, he remembers. Not everything because even you don't completely recall all the lives you've lived. There's too many of them now, most of which are too painful to think about all over again.

But this is the first actual instance where Jeonghan unknowingly hints that his past lives stay with him even beyond death, and it makes you wonder if he'll start to remember the others in time as well.

"I won't, Hannie," you whisper, weaving the words into a promise that you'll be sure to keep in the next life, and the hundreds of lives that will inevitably follow.

"I won't."

19. is that really you?

There are lifetimes where you try, but it just doesn't work out.

Sometimes, fate carves both you and Jeonghan into mismatched pieces of two different puzzles, and he doesn't even try to convince you to stay as you quietly pack away your belongings in dull brown boxes. The tension in your movements tells him that you knows he's watching.

"I'm not getting back together with you, if that's what you're wondering," you rasp. "If you love your job more than me, then I'll be the one to see myself out."

Jeonghan manages a sad smile that you completely miss—having been so caught up with your frustration with him to look. You thought that in each life he ends up becoming a world-famous idol, it meant that he'd also live all of his days with you by his side.

But things aren't always that simple, and Jeonghan merely stands in resignation as you shut the door to both his house and your heart.

20. and what if you're already perfectly happy without me?

When you took up a job as an events coordinator, never in your wildest dreams did you expect to be planning Jeonghan's wedding, of all things.

He doesn't seem to remember you and you don't really fault him for not recognizing someone he's met literal lifetimes ago. Not when he's obviously so enamored with his current fiancé.

"We were interested in the deluxe package on your website," Seungcheol, his intended, breaks the ice after the formal introductions, showing you a screenshot on his phone. "Is this inclusive of a lights and sound system or will we have to outsource those somewhere else?"

You nearly miss what Seungcheol was asking you—too caught up in how beautiful Jeonghan looks today. He's grown out his hair longer than he usually does and it's half pinned behind his head.

When it takes you a while to respond, both his and Seungcheol's gazes flicker with confusion before your heart sinks with how in tune they are with each other.

"Y-Yes, lights and sounds are already included in the package." You compose yourself with a warm smile. "But you might be interested in the royalty package. This would give you access to..."

21. ah, but i don’t blame you.

"Baby, I'm sorry."

Jeonghan looks like a kicked puppy sitting at the side of the hospital bed with how apologetic he is. You want to tell him that it really is no big deal but with the lower half of your body temporarily paralyzed, you can't really say that's the case.

"I shouldn't have insisted that you come to the music show when it was raining," he groans. "It's a miracle you managed to swerve out of the truck's way."

You wonder if he remembers the life where you lost him to an accident not so different from the one you narrowly escaped last night. The absolute fear in his eyes the moment he saw you covered in casts and bandages is reminiscent of the time you received the phone call informing you of your boyfriend's passing.

But you don't make it a habit to ponder too long about lives that have long come to an end. What's important is now, where you're still living and breathing and able to remain by his side.

"It's not your fault, Hannie," you murmur as you reach out to pet his head with some difficulty. "I shouldn't have gone past the speed limit in the first place."

"Well, you wouldn't have to do that if I wasn't being so pushy about you showing up," he sighs in defeat. "Tell you what, I'll pull out of all our comeback schedules until you can walk by yourself again."

You frown at him. "What? No! Your managers are going to kill you."

"They will, but knowing you'll be all alone while you recover will kill me inside too."

Jeonghan isn't usually this cheeky with you, so you keep this memory tucked away in your consciousness for as long as you can. Knowing there's no talking him out of it once he's got his mind set, you shake your head with a defeated sigh.

"You better take care of me like they do in those five star nursing homes then."

22. i’ll never burn as brilliantly as you.

Your favorite lives, you think, are the ones where he lights up the stage and the entire world as an idol.

He's happiest in these kinds of lives. The bond he shares with the rest of his bandmates transcends even the love you've harbored for him through lifetimes, and if there are people you'll gladly surrender Jeonghan to, it's those twelve boys that will always be his brothers no matter what.

"How was that?"

You're in the middle of giving out stage directions for the next round of performers when Jeonghan walks up to you with his signature, lazy smile. He's sweat-stricken with a stutter to each breath he takes, but he makes himself appear just as composed as he wants you to think.

"Breathtaking as always, Jeonghan," you decide to humor him—knowing that the sooner you give him a compliment, the sooner he'll leave you alone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to—"

"Will you be busy after the show? I wanted to cook dinner for us at home."

A panicked look seizes your face when you gesture for him to keep it down. Your eyes dart around the vicinity—idols and their stylists running around backstage in preparation for the next segment of the show. None of them seemed to have picked up on Jeonghan's little slip of the tongue.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" you whisper sharply over the sound of another fellow stage director paging you in the south entrance. "Anyways, I have to go, Hannie. And please don't go blabbing about our relationship where you shouldn't."

When that idiotically handsome smile doesn't fade from his lips, you know things won't exactly go your way as usual.

23. it's only fair that i should be the one

At some point, you stop counting altogether.

The lives you live with and without Jeonghan blend seamlessly into each other the longer the cycle repeats itself. It doesn't hurt as much when you don't find him, but your heart still gushes with relief when you do.

And yet there are instances where you try to spit in the face of fate itself. Instances where you decide that you don't want to be chained to Jeonghan anymore. That the lives you live belong to you and that you won't let some otherworldly force dictate the course of it any longer.

One day in the summer, in some petty attempt to cheat your way out of fate, you decide to date your next door neighbor.

Sujin has the same eyes as Jeonghan—it’s something you can’t really look past. Maybe that’s what makes it so easy for her to wear down your defenses without breaking a sweat.

But the moment the thought crosses your mind, you wipe out every similarity until you can’t see them anymore. They almost look the same apart from gender, but Sujin is so different from Jeonghan, that for a while, you forget about the burden you've been carrying all this time.

One day in the fall, Sujin talks about meeting her brother for dinner, and you don't really ponder about it—agreeing without a hitch.

But that’s only the first of your many mistakes because the man who walks into the restaurant is Jeonghan. Sujin’s brother, the person who’s kissing your girlfriend on the cheek, is Jeonghan.

“Did you know that Sujin never shut up about you when you brought her the housewarming gift?” Jeonghan snorts before ordering a glass of wine. “Hmm, you look kind of familiar, though… Have we met before?”

“No,” you respond almost instantly.

It doesn’t work. Your master plan of waging war with destiny is rendered utterly useless when Jeonghan bruises his way back into your life. Where Sujin managed to ease herself past the walls you've put up after a few weeks, Jeonghan tears them down in half the time his sister took to pick you apart.

One day in the winter, Sujin breaks up with you, and in spite of the coil of emotions twisting in your chest, you watch her pack her things and move back into the apartment across the hall.

One day in the spring, there’s a knock on your front door that you're in no hurry to answer. You stare at Jeonghan with equal parts irritation and relief when you see him there. His grin reminds you of flowers unfurling as he stares back with a challenge in his eyes.

A challenge you loathe, but one you can never refuse.

24. to chase you across ten, twenty-five, a hundred lifetimes

“Don’t you ever get tired?”

Your head is resting on Jeonghan's lap when he poses the question, and you think the fact that your eyes are closed is already an answer on its own.

You used to think you were cursed. Maybe you've incurred enough bad karma in your very first life to provide you with a steady stream of misfortune in the next few million lives you're destined to live.

That could be the reason why you have to live all these lives, meet all these people—rinse and repeat. Is this how the gods are punishing you? Is there anyway to atone for sins you can't even remember committing anymore?

Though…when you open your eyes and see Jeonghan staring out into the distance, you have a hard time thinking of him as a punishment.

You sit upright and stretch out your limbs. There’s a kink in the back of your neck that might be resolved by a good night’s sleep, but you offer Jeonghan a hand before you can think about it any more.

“No,” you answer as you twines your fingers together, pulling him back to his feet as he spares you a loving smile.

“Not really.”

25. until i find the one where you'll return to me.

"That bouquet's really pretty."

Jeonghan glances behind him with a confused look—frustration clear on his face from trying to get the new stove he had installed in your kitchen last week to start. When his eyes land on the beautiful spill of flowers bundled up in a vase on the dining table, his features soften with fondness.

"Those are the flowers I had when you met me the first time, right?" he chuckles before taking a seat next to you. "The one where I was a 'prick of a model who wouldn't even bat you an eyelash'?"

Your chest bubbles with laughter at his description. You've grown more and more comfortable with telling Jeonghan about the lives you've shared in eternities that have long unspooled, and just when you feared he'd treat you like someone who escaped an asylum, he instead took all your words to heart.

He doesn't quite remember them all on his own, but when you bring up little pieces from old memories you do manage to dredge up, he's able to complete the pieces of the story to form a coherent picture.

Maybe that's what Jeonghan is to you—someone that isn't exactly necessary to have in your life, but someone who makes it infinitesimally better.

If there's one thing you've learned from all the lives you've spent together, it's that Jeonghan isn't always someone you'll end up wanting. He can be crass. He can be secretive. He can be nothing short of vexing.

But he can also be kind, considerate, and present in times when you need him the most.

In the end, he's everything you need him to be.

And you couldn't ask for anything more.

⟢ end notes: me: this is a writing exercise, the word count: pushing 7k :') ok so this wasn't proofread even in the slightest so if you spot any mistakes and errors, no you didn't <3 thank you for joining me in this very self indulgent train of delusion!

#svthub #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #jeonghan fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenarios #lovelyhan #full length fic 📚

2K notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 year

Note

This is more of a Sam and Dean request than a reader and Dean request but what about Sam having a crush on Dean's gf? How would he react to that, I am honestly CRAVING angst and this is the angstiest, is that a word, thing I could think of, I am so sorry if you don't like angst or this makes you uncomfortable!!!

Oh my God. You killed me with this one, hun. 😫😫 I have another SB imagine coming next week, but I thought I'd put out this one for Dean to break it up a bit.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,500

Imagine: You are Dean's one exception.

Sam knows it's wrong.

You're smart, with a degree in history that aids them well on hunts.

You're sharp, with a smart mouth that rivals Dean's (and keeps him on his toes).

But you're also kind. You take care of him and Dean with all the feminine grace and care they've never had in their lives.

Sam realizes it when he's up until 3 a.m. in the bunker's War Room. He's sat at the table, researching, eyes bleary, hands cramping from turning pages. And he finds a mug of hot tea sliding next to his idle hand on the table.

You're there with a smile and a hand on his shoulder. "Workin' hard or hardly working?"

Sam clears his throat and nods, chuckles a little. "I'm good." He eyes the mug. "Thanks, though I might need something stronger."

You eye him with gentle reproach. "Nope. Green tea is better for you this late at night. You really should go to sleep, Sam."

Sam tacitly agrees, but only because he can feel the warmth of your hand through his clothing, and it makes his face warmer than the tea. He watches you walk away, notices the curve of your ass in those little shorts. He can imagine your warm hands on his body, caressing him. He can imagine letting his lips graze your skin, exploring you, then devouring you.

And that's when his thoughts stutter to a halt. Sam inwardly cringes.

Despite his sleep-deprived brain, he's reminded that you're traveling down the hall to the room you share with his brother, and for Sam, it's nothing short of torture.

Because he realizes then that he isn't just fond of you. He doesn't love you like an older brother, or even a quasi-brother-in-law. He wants you.

Again, Sam knows it's wrong...but he can't help it. It's one of the saddest cliches in the fucking book. You're his brother's girl, and he wants you for himself.

And it's getting harder to hide it from Dean. They know each other too well -- a result of having no one but each other, but more practically, having lived in such close quarters for so long before they discovered the bunker.

When Sam gets hurt on a hunt, the cut is at a bad angle. He can't quite reach, so you dutifully come around and gently move his hand out of the way to do the stitch yourself. You tsk at him in playful disappointment. "I swear, it's a wonder you and Dean aren't walking patchwork quilts at this point."

Sam chuckles through his nose, wincing when the movement pulls on the stitch. You shoot him a stern look. "Stop moving."

"You're the one making me laugh!" he says, smiling incredulously.

"I don't accept excuses," you retort. "Keep still, please."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam says, his breath hitching for a different reason as he feels your soft hands along his side. He plays it off as pain. "Sorry," you murmur more sincerely. He tells you it's okay. His gaze flicks up, unconsciously finding Dean's face across the room.

He's just finished cleaning a cut on his hand. But he's been watching; Sam can tell. Dean's too perceptive not to notice Sam's discomfort. He probably even knows why. Sam can see a glint of it in Dean's eyes, the stoic front of his face.

"There we go!" you say in satisfaction, and you pat Sam's bare arm. He gives you a wan smile. "Thanks."

"You done, sweetheart?" Dean asks. You get up from your seat by Sam. "What do you need?" you ask.

"You. Come 'ere," he says with a smile, giving you a beckoning finger. "I felt that knot on the back of your head earlier. Think you're slick?"

You huff, but you also smile, in the way you only do for Dean. Sam watches you get up and go to Dean, who touches your cheek, stroking with a thumb first. Then he parts your hair to inspect the back of your head, and you wince a bit. You did fall pretty hard, now that Sam thinks of it. He frowns.

Dean lets out a deep breath. "You've got a nasty bump. You're taking it easy tonight, got it?"

"Yeah? Gonna help me relax?" you whisper. But Sam still hears you, because apparently no one taught you how the hell to whisper.

Dean smirks. "Watch it. I'll think you're flirting with me."

You give him a coy smile as your hand travels up his chest, between the open edges of his plaid shirt, then all the way down, to tease at his belt. "Believe me, when I do, you'll be the first one to know."

Dean's smirk deepens, but his eyes are softer. He closes a hand around yours and brings it to his lips. You lean up and request, wordlessly, for a kiss. Dean obliges you, capturing your lips with a soft kiss.

He eventually breaks from you, only to press his lips to your forehead next, closing his eyes with a sigh. He doesn't like it when you try to hide your injuries from him. You just don't want him to worry so much.

You smile and rest against his chest afterwards. It's clear as day what your heart holds.

It's hard for Sam to watch. His throat constricts, but he takes pains to avert his gaze.

He's so full to the brim with this that he sees no other recourse. He catches Dean alone in the kitchen and tries to make a confession. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Can it wait 'til I'm done?" Dean's plating up some stovetop mac and cheese -- your favorite.

"You're done cooking," Sam points out. Dean looks up at him. "We're doing a little dinner in bed situation. I made her promise to take it easy."

Sam admires the way Dean takes care of you. He really does. But it's also like a small oyster knife twisting in his gut. "Good. I'm glad," is all he says. "Yeah, we can talk later."

"Later" doesn't come for a long time. Weeks, in fact. But every time he tries to broach the problem, Dean finds a way to wiggle out of having the conversation. Always a distraction. A hunt. A fire you almost started in the kitchen. Being "in the middle" of something -- something in the bedroom that you insist needs Dean's immediate attention. Sam gives up for a while after that.

But Winchesters are nothing if not goddamn stubborn. Sam finally catches Dean alone in his room for once. You've gone to the grocery store, leaving the brothers alone in the bunker, but not for long, so Sam needs this chance.

"Dean, can we talk?"

Dean looks up at his brother from where he sits on the edge of his bed. He taps his knee, releases a breath. They both know what this is.

"Are you gonna do more than talk?" Dean asks. It's not what Sam expects. "What?"

"Whatever's on your mind, are you ever gonna do something about it?" Dean asks.

Sam stares back at his brother. He thinks. Hard. He's flipped back and forth for months. If he tells you how he feels, it's over. Things will never be the same between the three of you. It'll confuse you. It might even hurt you. It'll hurt Dean. Sam loves you both, if in very different ways.

So Sam is a bit deflated when he raises his resigned gaze and meets his brother's. "No."

After a moment, Dean nods. "Then we've got nothing to talk about."

But... Sam wants not to want you. Not to love you. Deep, deep down, a large chunk of him feels that he shouldn't have to hide himself. That you have a right to know the depths of what he feels, and what he feels for you.

"I see you're not convinced," Dean says dryly. Sam is silent, until Dean sighs and beckons him over. Sam obliges and sits down next to his older brother, the man he's looked up to (at least metaphorically) his whole life.

"I'd give my life for you. You know that. Right, Sammy?" Dean says. "If I couldn't tear the world apart, I'd lay myself out flat."

Sam sighs. "Dean..." Of fucking course he knows that. Dean already had given his life for him once. Remembering that only adds to Sam's guilt.

Dean meets Sam's gaze directly then. "But this is where I draw the line. She's my line," he says. His face is almost stoic, but his eyes are filled with unyielding fire. "I'm not layin' down on that. Not for you. Not for anyone."

Sam's heart clenches with every kind of pain, but he's also never respected his brother more. He nods. "I get it."

"No, you really fucking don't," Dean says. He's more than serious. "I mean it, Sam. I'll break your damn nose."

After a long moment, Sam nods. He knew Dean loved you. Of course he did. But this is the first time Sam truly understands how deeply. How completely. It's more than jealousy can fathom.

Sam realizes then that he lost, even before he began.

AN: Whew! 😮‍💨 I got way deeper into this than I expected to. Poor Sam. 😭 But I hope this scratched your angsty itch, my dear!

Read the Sequel

Here's the requested sequel to this: Sam crosses the line.

Also, if you want to read the reverse of this (Dean is in love with Sam's girlfriend): Dean gives you an impossible choice.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean Tag List:

@hobby27 @this-is-me19 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesdeanvessel @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @emily-winchester @deans-baby-momma @melancholictearz @luvs4dria @nic-kolas @katherineann83 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @tipthejar @ajjustice @thewritersaddictions @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @adoringanakin

@theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @mrshalverson2021 @iprobablyshipit91 @agalliasi @venicesem @waters-2567 @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @mimaria420 @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @beskarfilms @skyesthebomb @deans-spinster-witch @tmb510 @iamsapphine

#ask me stuff #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #being deans one exception #sam in love with deans girlfriend #sam winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam and dean #angst #unrequited love #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

1K notes · View notes

m3vl0vesu · 21 days

Text

Too safe

Red Hood x Reader No real warning, just a bit of sleep deprivation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A tired Red Hood had just stepped into your apartment for the umpteenth time this month. Despite him being built like a tank, you never, never, heard him coming in. It’s not exactly the best thought to know that the crime lord could just easily break into this shitty place you called home. If being on the fifth floor didn’t stop him, why and how would some lousy lock?

He’s less than pleased when he sees his latest interest wide awake. That was another thing you also should be concerned about, the way he had a habit of breaking in just to…watch you sleep. Not in a weird way! Of course, it was…friendly. Yeah, friendly. He watched you through the helmet, the way your eyes were barely paying attention to the bright screen, the way your hair looked messier than usual, the way the only sound that filled the room was your breathing. He loved and hated seeing his precious person so exhausted. Your skin crawled at the robotic voice calling your name, almost jumping. But you knew, knew that it was him, knew that he’s been later than usual and that he’d probably try to drag your body to bed

“Red.” Wow, when did your throat get so dry? Where was the water bottle, or water bottles? You rubbed at your eyes, it didn’t help but oh well. What was the time? You were still in your apartment right? You were so out of it, countless hours had passed since your e/c eyes weren't glued to a device that your eyes actually stung when you looked away. “It’s almost four.” The robotic voice spoke again, that pounding head of yours finally faced the familiar tic tac shaped helmet. “I…knew that.” Nope, you did not. “Why aren’t you asleep?” For some reason he had the ability to pull the answers out of you, even if your brain didn’t really process the questions. Maybe it came with the whole vigilante schtick. Or the fact that he had killed people before…probably the latter. “Can’t.” The one word answers and shrugs will have to do for now, you needed water. Sadly the water bottles that were scattered in front of you were all empty. Huh. You didn’t remember drinking all that, but then again most of the week was a blur. Work, home, Gotham's shittiness. All an endless cycle of despair that you were trapped in… “Hey.” Right. Red was still here “Hm?” Or was she hallucinating again? God, everything felt heavy. The clothes on your back, the hair on your head…your eyes…

“Drink this.” Huh? Oh, right. He was here.

Your eyes glanced at the littered coffee table, clean water in a clean glass. Swore they were all dirty. As one hand steadied her laptop sitting on her…lap, one lifted the glass to your lips. It soothed your dry throat but it was an odd feeling knowing who was staring at you, well you didn’t really know him but you get the gist. His presence certainly didn’t go unnoticed, I mean who could ignore the literal brick wall towering over them as they sat on their worn out couch. Not you. “Your eyes are bloodshot” were they? “And your eye bags…” Hearing the sigh that escaped him didn’t surprise you, after all failure expects disappointment. As seconds pass by you continue with the doom-scrolling, eyes only just scanning over the media. There's a second sigh, you practically could hear the eye roll. “No more, of whatever you're doing.” he said, gesturing towards you. Ouch. Why did that kinda hurt? Did you need to be doing something right now? Emails…? As your brain tries to use its last working cells you feel the device being pulled away from your hands. “No-hey…” you tried your best to be annoyed but really you were too weak to fight back. You did need sleep but…no you couldn’t. “Let's get you to bed.” Curse him. Curse his amazing physique, curse his demanding aura, curse him. Even with the voice modulator you could tell that he was being genuinely caring, something you probably needed. “But I have stuff to do, I know it. Maybe with work I...”

You were rambling, your ears tuning out the sound of your own voice. Why was this armed man never annoyed with you? You could faintly feel his gloved hands on the small of her back. Gloved, they were always gloved. Maybe he was a germaphobe? Hah…that would be funny. You feel the softness of your covers take over you and you realise he’s winning. “My laptop is-” “Safe and not needed.” Awh. You wanted the last word.

Knowing this was the first time you had touched your bed in like 58 hours was making it hard to come up with some snarky remark. Maybe…a nap wouldn’t hurt. Was she still rambling, was he still here? She probably should be hoping that he wasn’t but for some reason, some idiotic reason, she felt safe with him. Too safe…but it was probably nothing. . . . He was tired, but seeing you finally asleep set something off in him. This certainly wasn’t the last time he would smile softly at her behind the helmet, and it certainly wasn’t the first. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N:I am very sleep deprived sadly :'( Always let me know what you think and what I could improve on!! Like always M3v loves YOU

#m3v loves you #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x y/n #reader is tired #love you all #fluff?#light angst #new to tumblr

167 notes · View notes

anniebeemine · 9 days

Text

comfort- s.r. x reader

one bed trope because I love it

Sharing a room with Spencer wasn’t exactly a new experience for you. You’d done it before, on various cases where the team had to double up due to limited space or last-minute bookings. But this time was different. This time, there was only one bed.

When you first walked into the room, there was a brief, almost awkward pause as you both took in the sight of the lone bed. Spencer had glanced at you, his eyes slightly wider than usual, and you could tell he was about to offer to sleep on the floor or the chair. But you quickly waved it off, a lighthearted chuckle escaping your lips.

“It’s fine,” you’d said, trying to keep your tone casual. "We're friends."

Spencer had hesitated for just a moment, then nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s not that different from sleeping on the couch,” he’d agreed, though the way your heart had begun to race told you that maybe it was, just a little bit.

After a long day of working the case, your nighttime routine and a long conversation about your current novel, you both crawled into bed, carefully keeping to your respective sides. You tried to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest, the warmth of his presence beside you both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time. You’d closed your eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly, but it took a while for your mind to settle.

Eventually, though, exhaustion took over, and you drifted off, the soft sounds of Spencer’s breathing lulling you into a deeper sleep.

But in the early hours of the morning, you were abruptly woken by a sharp kick to your leg. Groggy and disoriented, you blinked your eyes open, trying to figure out what had just happened. You turned over to face Spencer, who was still asleep, a grunt escaping his lips as his leg jerked again, this time kicking your shin.

You groaned quietly, feeling the edge of irritation creeping in as your sleep-deprived brain tried to process the situation. But then you noticed the slight furrow in Spencer’s brow, the way his expression twisted as if he were fighting off something in his dream. He looked distressed, his body tense, and you realized he was in the throes of a bad dream.

Without thinking, you reached out and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close in a comforting embrace. You told yourself it was just to calm him down, that it was purely out of concern for a friend in need. But as you felt his body relax against yours, the tension easing from his muscles, you couldn’t help but melt into his warmth, the scent of him filling your senses.

Spencer’s breathing slowed, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he nestled closer. In his sleep, he murmured something, his voice barely audible, but you caught the soft words as he sighed, “You smell nice.”

Your heart fluttered at the unexpected compliment, even if it was one he’d never give while awake. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being in his arms, his presence both comforting and intoxicating.

Maybe someday, you thought as you closed your eyes again, you’d hear those words from him when he was awake. But for now, you were content to simply hold him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept soundly beside you.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

285 notes · View notes

reiding-writing · 8 months

Note

hiii, i hope you're well! i saw that you are taking requests for spencer and i really like your angst fics so i was wondering if you could write one with unrequited love?

preferably bau!reader who has feelings for him but he doesn't and she watches him get with someone else and everybody knows how she feels about him but he is oblivious, ending is up to you but i love me a sad ending heheh 😸

transgression [ s.r ]

You’re in love with Spencer Reid. He’s in love with somebody else.

WARNINGS: SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE MAEVE ARC, LOTS of misunderstanding, Spencer is kind of a bad friend, lots of arguing, major character death

spencer reid x gn!reader || ANGST || 8.2k || masterlist!!

a/n: sorry for the delay, but i did warn you it was gonna be long so- also i listened to ceilings on repeat whilst writing this so take that as you will 🫶

did i bend the maeve arc to my will for this fic? yes. yes i did.

taglist (slashed blogs couldn’t be tagged): @babyspiderling @marsxoxo2 @vytvyvy @hpstuff244444 @frostooo @ohmysw33 @radioactiveinvisible @devilsadvcte @the-local-pendeja @kakashis-formal-simp @robinswrld

You suppose you did it to yourself.

Spencer’s migraines had gotten increasingly worse over the last few months, and after a few consecutive days of hounding him, he’d finally decided to go and see a medical professional about it.

You’d expected him to come back with news about how his brain stem was too active from how hard he was working himself, or that he’d managed to raise his blood pressure to an unhealthy high from all the stress he was under.

Instead he’d told you that they couldn’t find anything physically wrong with him and that he’d been referred to a geneticist to check if the cause of his sudden mind-numbing aching was due to an underlying condition that might have been passed down from his mother.

He’d come back and forth to you for weeks about his phone calls with the doctor.

How she was helping him with his sleep deprivation.

How she was helping to manage his diet.

How she loved classic literature.

How she and him had spent four consecutive hours on the phone debating over the logistics of a novel they both enjoyed.

You could see the change happening before your eyes, and you weren’t the only one either.

“Pretty boy’s chipper this morning,” Morgan joins you at the kitchenette, his eyes following Spencer as he takes a seat at his desk with all of the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy who’d been let off his leash for the first time.

You hum with a nod, focusing your attention on the two cups of coffee you were making, heaping tablespoons of sugar into Spencer’s Doctor Who mug to satisfy his insatiable need for sweetness. “They’re reading a book together,”

“Really?” You respond to Morgan’s raised eyebrow with a short nod and another hum.

“Thoughts in Solitude by Thomas Merton, apparently she finds the religious analysis ‘fascinating’,” You can’t help the small contemptment that seeps into your tone as you reiterate what Spencer had told you to Morgan, and you can practically feel his pitiful gaze as he watches you make your coffee.

“I’ve heard of that book before from somewhere,”

“I tried to get him to read it a few months ago,” You take a sip of your coffee at the end of your sentence, barely able to taste it over the scolding water but not finding the mind to care.

You leave your conversation with Morgan at that, taking the two mugs in your hands and walking back into the bullpen, placing Spencer’s mug in front of him and walking around the cluster of desks to reach your own.

He’s sure he doesn’t need to verbalise it, but Morgan feels increasingly sorry for your situation, noting how you skirt past Spencer’s “thank you” without a response as you bury your head in your files.

he can’t imagine how much the fact that Spencer had seemingly formed a crush on his geneticist ripped you apart.

And the worst part? He’d never met her in person.

All scientific laws of attraction be damned, Spencer Reid had fallen in love with someone he’d never met in the span of three months, and you we’re resigning yourself to sit on the sidelines and watch as the man you had been in love with for six years find the happiness that you longed for with somebody else.

How you managed to keep up your facade you didn’t know.

You’d offered him change for the pay phone he’d call her from when he was running short. You’d let him rant to you about her opinions on a novel that you had failed to get him to read. You made excuses for him to leave the office early so that he could spend his time on the phone with her.

You were the one that sent him to the hospital and caused him to meet her in the first place.

He never hesitated to remind you of that fact, thanking you vicariously every time he relayed his conversations with the doctor back to you.

As the weeks progressed he stopped calling her that. She wasn’t ‘the doctor’ anymore. She was Maeve.

He didn’t call you by your first name and you’d known him for ten times longer that he’d known her. He didn’t even call Morgan by his first name and those two were practically brothers.

And that part was probably what hurt the most.

Maeve.

A name of Irish origin meaning ‘intoxicating’. How fitting.

Apparently the Irish goddess of love and desire was named Maeve. You could see the glimmer in Spencer’s eye that told you his Maeve was just as important as the mythological goddess he was describing.

His Maeve.

“So why haven’t you two actually gone on a date or anything?” You take a sip from the mug in your hands, swivelling your chair back and forth with your foot as a pivot. “You’ve been talking for what, four months now? Surely it’s about time you actually met her in person,”

“It’s complicated,” Spencer sighs as he collects the loose papers he was working on in a pile. He didn’t want to divulge Maeve’s issues without her permission.

“You’ve been saying that for the last six weeks Spencer,” You roll your eyes as you discard your half-empty mug on the table. “If I didn’t know any better i’d say you’re putting it off,”

Spencer shook his head adamantly at your suggestion. You couldn’t have been more wrong. He did want to meet her. Desperately. He’d wanted to meet her since the end of their first phone call. But he also wanted to keep her safe.

How do you meet up with somebody who’s hiding from a stalker without endangering them?

“I do want to meet her. It’s just- she’s dealing with something personal and it’s put a rift our plans, that’s all,”

“So it’s her not wanting to meet up with you then?” You raise an eyebrow at him over your desks.

“Look it’s- You don’t get it okay? It was a mutual understanding from both of us.” You can hear Spencer’s tone become more defensive as you spoke, and you raised both of your hands in surrender.

“Okay, i’m sorry for prying-” You ended your apology with a laugh, trying to keep the conversation lighthearted despite feeling your heart deflate in your chest at the way the friendliness his his eyes fizzled out the longer you looked at him.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Spencer’s late to work this morning.

It’s 8:06 when he finally walks through the glass doors, the coffee you made him stone cold after sitting lamely on his desk for the better part of twenty minutes. He doesn’t so much as offer an apology as he picks up the mug and makes his way over to the kitchenette to pour the coffee down the sink.

You follow behind him in a mix of intrigue and a want to refill your own mug, swilling it out with some water as you watch Spencer load a coffee pod into the machine. “Phone call last longer than you expected?”

“Hm? Oh- yeah, we were discussing the literary analysis of Annabelle Lee,” Spencer’s demeanour seems to brighten immediately once he’s given an opportunity to discuss the details of his phone call with Maeve, although the beginning of his ramble is quickly cut off by the beeping of the coffee machine.

You wait patiently for his coffee to finish before you begin making yours, raising an eyebrow as Spencer pulls out a regular teaspoon instead of the usual tablespoon he’d incorrectly use to load his coffee with sugar.

Your intrigue only heightened when he pulled a carton of milk from the mini-fridge. Not even normal milk. Soy milk.

“Since when do you drink coffee like a normal person?”

His eyes flickered from his mug to your face as he tipped a single teaspoon of sugar into his drink before replacing the bag back where it came from. “It’s a part of my managed diet, Maeve thinks that my increased sugar intake might be one of the risk factors for my headaches,”

“Did she tell you to put soy milk in it too?” You don’t know why you have the urge to be petty, Spencer had long since needed to change his coffee drinking habits for the sake of decreasing his sugar intake and Maeve’s suggestions were beneficial for his health.

It was just the fact that it was her that ticked you off.

“She did actually, it provides the same amount of riboflavin as cow’s milk, which acts as a soothing agent whilst also helping constrict inflamed blood vessels, but without all of the excess fats in regular milk that might make my migraines more frequent, it’s genius really,”

He thought that her ideas were genius. Him. Mr ‘I have three PhDs and an IQ of 187’, thought someone else’s ideas were genius.

You’re sure that he already knew the benefits of milk alternatives, and yet he attributed the ‘revelation’ of what they could do to Maeve. Of course he did.

“When was the last time you made a decision for yourself?” The question comes out much harsher than you intend it to, and you can tell by the way Spencer furrows his eyebrows that he’s taken offence to it.

“Sorry, that came out wrong,” No it didn’t. “I’m just a little surprised that someone as independent as you is so… willing to follow blind instructions,” Your attempt at saving yourself half-works, that wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears and you can see that the glimmer in his eyes is returning slowly.

“She’s a doctor, of course i’m going to follow her suggestions,”

You give him a soft nod as you pick up your mug from under the coffee machine. “Yeah, no, that makes sense, it’s just a little surprising is all,”

You don’t give him a chance to respond to you before you’re walking away from the kitchenette to retake a seat at your desk, fearing you might say something out of pocket if you continue the conversation any longer.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You were really pissed off now.

You’d arrived back in Quantico three days ago, and you were still piled up to your neck in paperwork.

Maybe you would’ve had it finished by now if Spencer would stop talking about the fact that he was “-finally going to meet Maeve in person,”.

You had half the mind to snap and tell him to just shut up, although by the saving grace of Morgan you thankfully didn’t have to.

“Reid, give their poor ears a break man,” Your thankful for Morgan in times like this. He knew you were knee-deep in your feelings for Spencer, and he knew that every time Spencer so much as spoke Maeve’s name it carved another hairline fracture in your heart.

You were close to shattering, and Morgan could tell.

“Oh- right, sorry,” Spencer offered you an awkward smile which you mirrored back at him.

“It’s alright, don’t worry about it,” You shake your head in a polite dismissal of his apology before turning your head back down towards your files.

“I take it you’re nervous then?” Alex’s voice cut through the beginning of an awkward tension between the two of you as she entered to bullpen with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Well- I mean- you know…” Upon being unable to find a sufficient response, Spencer resorts to shrugging into his chair. “I just don’t want to ruin anything,”

“But aren’t you curious what she looks like?” Alex raises an eyebrow with concern like Spencer was he son going on his first ever date.

“it doesn’t matter what she looks like I mean- she’s already the most beautiful girl in the world to me it’s just-”

You don’t stick around to hear the rest of the conversation.

You sudden upheaval from your desk stops Spencer’s sentence as his eyes follow you across the bullpen and out of the glass doors, followed shortly by Morgan as he jogs after you.

“Hey- Wait up a minute-” Morgan catches your arm before you have a chance to get in the elevator, and as you turn your eyes towards him he can see the beginnings of tears forming in your eyes.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this..”

Morgan can do nothing more than pull your head into his shoulder and wrap his arms tightly around your back with a soft mutter of your name. “I know kid, I know…”

“He thinks she’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” You turn your head up from Morgan’s shoulder to meet his eyes, a single stray tear cascading down your cheek, illuminated under the florescent lights. “How am I supposed to compete with that..?”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Incidentally, Spencer’s date with Maeve didn’t end up happening. Conflicting work schedules or something, you weren’t really listening.

Maybe all of your subconscious thoughts had leaked into reality and finally gave you momentary release from the crushing defeat of having Spencer go on a date with someone else.

Maybe it was them punishing you further by forcing you to sit through him rant about the book she’d left him at the front of the restaurant.

It didn’t help that you already had a headache that made it feel like your eye sockets were being kicked by an annoying kid sat behind you on an aeroplane, leaving a dull ache in it’s wake and making you just want to bury yourself in a hole and hibernate.

“And right at the back she wrote ’Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone; we find it with another’ it’s a quote from-”

“Thomas Merton. Yeah, I know.” You dig the knuckle of your left thumb into cavity of your eye socket over your closed eyelid, hoping to relieve some of the tension that’s lingering there and disrupting your thoughts.

“Thomas Merton’s ‘Love and Living’ specifically,” If Spencer noticed your discomfort he didn’t acknowledge it. “It’s a collection of his essays on the importance of love to live, so for her to have written it specifically knowing that I would read it means-”

“Reid.”

Your tone stops him from continuing any further, and he blinks at you with that sweet puppy-dog expression that would usually have you weak at the knees.

“No offence, but I don’t care about your over-the-phone girlfriend or the quote that she wrote in your book.” Your tone carried a harshness to it that Spencer wasn’t used to hearing from you. It was cold and detached and not like you at all.

“Are- you okay?”

“No, Reid, I’m not, and if you’d bothered to ask about my life every once in a while instead of using me like a human diary maybe you would’ve realised that already.”

You practically slam your file closed as you speak, pushing your chair out from your desk and leaving him sat in shock at your sudden change in attitude.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

After a bit of introspection, Spencer did realise that he hadn’t been treating you very fairly. He hadn’t asked you how your life had been in 3 months and 26 days. Four of those days he’d spent in damn near radio silence. He wasn’t sure he could take it much longer.

He missed you.

It was a bit ironic considering you sat directly opposite him for almost eight hours a day five days a week, but after you’d snapped at him last week, he truly realised just how much of his day he spent socialising with you, and just how much he missed talking to you.

So he decided that he was going to apologise.

And what better form of an apology for being dismissive of your feelings than putting a personal effort into something for you.

He walked into the office that morning with a leather bound copy of The Parasite by Arthur Conan Doyle stored cautiously in his messenger bag, pages scrawled with annotations from Spencer’s own reading of the novel that he hoped would be insightful to you as you read it yourself.

He’d remembered you saying how much you wanted to read the novel a few months ago, so he figured giving it to you as a personalised apology would show that he really did care about you and had listened to what you’d told him.

“Are you busy?” Spencer asks, though he already knows the answer to the question.

He’d been watching you from the other side of the room all morning, hoping for a moment or two of eye contact to see if there was a possibility of a conversation. A look from one to the other; even a smile would’ve been enough to make him feel validated and content. And he would have been willing to settle for that.

But you never looked up. Not even once.

"Mhm," You continue to not spare Spencer so much as glance as he speaks, turning over the page of the file you were working through.

“Can I take a minute of your time?” He tried to catch your gaze again, only to be met by your continued focus on your work. The last thing he wanted to do was disrupt your work routine, but he also knew that he needed to talk to you sooner rather than later.

“Please,” he said softly. “It’s important.”

You exhale heavily through your nose, exasperation written clearly in your expression as you leave your pen as a page marker to close the manilla folder on your desk. You turn your head upwards, raising an eyebrow and opening your hands to agitatedly indicate for him to continue.

You wouldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt being so openly cold towards Spencer, but you’d reached a breaking point, and you couldn’t bare sitting idly on the sidelines and letting him tear your heart to pieces anymore.

Spencer was relieved that you’d granted him your attention, but the look you directed towards him was enough to make him wince. You weren’t looking at him through a lens of indifference but rather cold, hard disappointment.

He took a deep breath, trying to gather the right words for what he had to say.

“I’m sorry,”

He seemed almost breathless as he spoke, like he’d just finished a tangent about something without taking the time to breathe. “I know that I’ve been spending too much time talking about Maeve and not enough paying attention to you.”

"You don’t say," You mutter the words under your breath to yourself, but your sure that Spencer heard you based on the way his eyebrows knit and the small gleam of hope in his eyes dwindles to barely a flicker.

He was trying not to react to your snide comment. Spencer knew that your tone didn’t leave any room to deny your meaning. He’d been selfish in talking exclusively about his relationship and hadn’t realised how it was affecting you.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeated. “You mean so much to me and I haven’t been showing that.”

"Thank you," Your thanks are polite but dismissive, like you were acknowledging his apology but choosing to not actually consider it as one, and it left Spencer with an expression of clear frustration.

He was used to being able to read your facial expressions and emotions in the past, but now you were just an unreadable wall of disappointment. He had hoped the apology would've been enough, but it was clear that you weren’t going to let him off that easily.

Time to pull out the last resort.

He bent over and fumbled with his bag for a few moments before pulling out the novel he’d brought with him face up.

“I uh… got you this,” He holds out the book towards you. “You said you wanted to read it right? So I uh.. annotated it for you to make it more enjoyable,”

You take the novel from him with a raised eyebrow as your eyes scan the cover, a clear flicker of confusion in your expression.

Spencer noticed your expression and furrowed his own brow in confusion. You didn't seem to recognise the book. In fact, the look on your face made him wonder whether you even knew this book existed at all before this moment.

“I hope you… like it,” he said nervously. “I was going off what you'd talked about before. You mentioned the book was a classic?”

"I… have never seen this book in my life,”

“B-But…” Spencer knew this was going to be awkward at some point, but he'd hoped not this early into the conversation. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment, and it was only getting worse as he searched your face for an answer to this awkward situation.

“I… swear I heard you mention it once.”

You give him a short shake of your head and a pursed smile of awkward thanks as you put the book down on your desk.

Spencer looked away, embarrassed beyond belief. He hadn't even been able to deliver an apology properly, let alone make you feel special like he'd originally intended to.

How had he gotten it wrong? He had an eidetic memory for god’s sake.

When you put the book down on your desk, his eyes flicked back to the book. He'd spent almost 4 hours annotating and researching it and now it felt like all that effort had been wasted.

If you hadn’t mentioned it then who had? Someone must’ve. Someone he obviously equated with you to the point where he’d somehow managed to override his eidetic memory to mix the two of you up.

It takes him a few moments before you hear him whisper out a name under his breath, the palm of his hand dragging down the front of his face at the realisation.

"Maeve…"

The mention of her name had your eyes flickering away from the leather cover and right back to Spencer’s face, awkwardness completely rid of your features and replaced with a mix of negativity that Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to dig into.

"Are you serious?" Your words come out less questioningly and more accusatory, and you hold the book up so that he can see it once more, the gold embossing on the cover glinting under the overhead light as if to only taunt Spencer further for his mistake.

“You apologise for continuously disregarding me for your girlfriend by giving me a book that she showed interest in?”

You could see Spencer's face fall as your words sink in.

He hadn't even taken the time to think over what he was apologising with. It was almost as if his brain automatically just reverted back to his girlfriend's interests as an escape from dealing with his own guilt and sadness.

"Damn it," he whispered to himself. And in that moment he realised he'd just committed the biggest crime someone could make when trying to apologise.

“Like you constantly flaunting your relationship in my face verbally wasn’t bad enough.”

"I'm sorry I-" he says again, voice teeming with sincerity and guilt.

"You are truly and utterly unbelievable Spencer Reid." Your words didn’t carry anger as much as they did disappointment, and he could see the astoundment in your eyes as you pushed your chair backwards to stand, dropping the book straight in the trash bin by your desk before walking off.

It’s where it belongs; Right alongside the small sliver of respect you still had for him.

Spencer could've said so much more: he could've admitted how ashamed he felt for his careless actions and he could've apologised again and again a million times if it meant you'd stick around and give him a chance to make it up to you.

But you had already made it clear that you weren't in the right state of mind to discuss this matter further.

The best thing he could do now was give you space as he watched you walk away, a deep pain in his heart that slowly ate him alive from the inside.

He’d well and truly fucked up.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?” You were bordering tears by the time you reached Garcia’s office, unintentionally interrupting her lunch break with Alex in the process, though the two seemed to care less about the interruption and more about the fact that you liked like you were about to cry your eyes out.

You take in a sharp breath through your nose as you try to tape together the cracks in your composure, although with every one you seal three more seem to appear in it’s place.

“I-” You can barely get the first word out before the tears start rolling down your face, and Alex immediately stands from her seat to guide you to sit in her place.

“Hey, you’re alright, slowly,” Alex’s hands find your shoulders and rub reassuring circles against your shirt. The slow breath you take in doesn’t stop the flood of tears that’s blurring your vision, and you only manage to get out a single word, but it’s all the two need to understand what’s got you so overwhelmed.

“Spencer-”

“I swear I am two seconds away from smacking that boy over the back of the head,” You can hear the clear frustration in Garcia’s tone. “Surely he’s got to realise how much he’s hurting you by now,”

“He does… I lashed out at him and then left to come here…” You rub your eyes with the back of your hand alongside a small sniffle, trying to rid your vision of it’s blurriness from your tears.

“Good, the boy deserves to have some sense knocked into him,” You appreciate Garcia taking your side, but you can’t help that small lingering feeling of guilt that invades the back of your mind.

“He’s just in love, it’s not his fault…” The words almost physically pain you to say. The verbal acceptance that Spencer Reid was indeed in love with somebody. Somebody who wasn’t you.

“That doesn’t mean that he should be disregarding you though sweetheart,” Alex’s tone is soft and almost maternal, and your sure that it doesn’t help how emotional you are.

Garcia’s right hand reaches forward to straighten out the collar of your shirt, unintentionally crumpled as you try to wipe your face of your emotions. “You’re his friend, and you have been his friend for longer than he’s known this girl he’s talking to, it’s not fair for him to completely push you to the side,”

Garcia was right. It’s not fair. Nothing about how Spencer had been treating you since he’d started speaking to Maeve had been fair. And you were done making excuses for the boy just because you knees deep in your feelings for him.

You didn’t deserve to feel guilty. You didn’t deserve to feel bad for lashing out at Spencer for apologising for not showing interest in your life by further proving just how little he’d actually payed attention to you. You didn’t deserve to cry because he was the most stupid genius to ever live and couldn’t see that you were hopelessly in love with him. You didn’t deserve to suffer by his hand.

It wasn’t fair.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Maeve’s been kidnapped.”

You have to consciously suppress the small voice in the back of your head that celebrates the possibility that she might not be a part of Spencer’s life for much longer. It’s a horrible thought. You should never wish ill upon anyone, no matter how much you internally despised them.

Still, that part of you that was still petty, that was still infuriated with Spencer and Maeve, wanted you to tell Spencer straight to his face that you weren’t going to help him find her and that it was karma for how he’d treated you.

But you weren’t a bad person.

As much as you might hate her, she was still important to Spencer.

“I have a wealth of knowledge i should be applying to this case, but- i can’t focus on anything for more than four seconds at a time… which makes me the dumbest person in the room-” Spencer’s eyes are full of desperation as they scan across your teammates.

“So please help me… Please help me find her…” The desperation in his voice is heartbreaking, the remnants of tears staining his face as he explains the context of the situation through broken sentences.

“We don’t have an official case, so we’ll be working on personal time,” Hotch’s voice is much quieter than you’re used to. Softer, more considerate. “Does anybody want to leave?”

You can feel his eyes linger on you as he asks the question, and you subconsciously purse your mouth into a tight line to stop yourself from impulsively pulling out of the investigation.

You might be detrimentally frustrated with him, but you did want to help. Even if it ultimately resulted in your downfall.

Hotch gave you a short nod before turning to the rest of the team. “Good, let’s get to work,”

It didn’t take Garcia very long to track Maeve down, mostly attributed to her unique name and specialised job.

Dr. Maeve Donovan, a professor at Mendel University who took a sabbatical leave 10 months ago.

The group split into different groups once they’d found her, JJ and Morgan heading off to a loft her parents owned, Alex and Rossi heading to the lab she used to work at, and you and Hotch, accompanied by Spencer, going to speak to Maeve’s parents.

“Reid,” Garcia’s tone is soft as she looks over her laptop screen towards him as he begins to stand from the conference table. “I have a picture of her, do you want to know what she looks like?”

“No,”

Spencer’s answer is immediate, joined by a shake of his head.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

You and Spencer watched from behind the one way mirror as the interview progressed.

They’d last spoken to Maeve five days ago. Her mother had cancer. She was also a geneticist. They were suspicious of her ex fiancé Bobby.

Her fiancé?

You can see Spencer’s face drop at the words despite the low lighting in the room, and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows yourself.

She had a fiancé?

Spencer practically storms out of the office after the questioning is over, and Hotch has to remind him to calm down as they reach the apartment of Robert Putnam with Morgan and Rossi in tow.

When the door opens the five of you aren’t greeted by Robert, but rather a girl, a girl who looked very confused.

You invite yourselves inside at the girl’s recognition that Robert was inside the apartment.

“And who are you?”

“I’m Diane, his girlfriend,” She raised an eyebrow as the five of you looked around, confusion cut short as Robert rounds the corner questioning the sudden voices coming from his living room.

“Hey babe what’s-“

“Robert Putnam, FBI we’d like to-” Spencer’s voice cuts him off harshly as he rushes to speak, although he stops his sentence halfway as a flicker of recognition falls across his features and his anger turns to dread.

“Hey, I know you,” Robert doesn’t have the time to say anything else to Spencer before Hotch forces him out of the room, shutting the door behind him to speak to Spencer privately whilst you Morgan and Rossi remained inside.

Hotch returned a few minutes later. Spencer didn’t.

You end up taking Hotch’s place as you push yourself out of the apartment with a small “excuse me,” to follow after Spencer as he walks out of the apartment building.

“Spencer- wait up a minute-”

He doesn’t stop at your call, and you’re practically running down the stairs by the time you get to him, already out of the front doors of the apartment building.

“Hey-” You take a second to catch your breath before turning your eyes back towards him again. “Are you alright?”

You could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes as he met your gaze.

The last time you spoke to him you threw away any remnant of your friendship with him in the bin alongside the book he’d given you, and now here you were, chasing after him to make sure that he was okay.

“Why did you agree to help?”

Your face falls from concern to surprise at his question, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I know that you don’t like her, so why are you here?” You could see the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes, clearly overwhelmed with how the investigation was going.

“She’s important to you Spencer. Like her or not I care about you. So therefore I care about her,” You don’t think as you speak, words spilling out of your mouth with no conscious filter.

“I’m sorry.” Spencer’s apology elicits a sigh from your mouth, and you shake your head softly at him.

“Forget it, let’s focus on getting Maeve home safe alright?” He obliges to your request with a purse of his lips and a small nod, turning his eyes towards the ground.

“What’re you thinking about?” His eyes fall on yours once more at your question, round with confusion and glistening with the starts of tears. “I can see it in your face, you’re calculating something in your head,”

He exhales through his mouth in a small laugh. You’d always been able to figure him out, and not just because you were a profiler.

“2,412 hours,” His tone is uncertain, mixed between gratefulness for you observance and something far more upsetting. “That’s how long Maeve and I have contacted each other counting letters and phone calls…”

“That’s what-” You take a second to do the calculation in your head. “100 days?”

“100.5…” He runs his hand backwards through his hair, pressing his eyes closed like he’s afraid tears will spill from them if he doesn’t. “What if that’s all I get?”

“It won’t be Spencer…”

“You don’t know that-“

“Yes Spencer, I do,” You have to consciously suppress the sigh that threatens to leave your mouth, pushing your lingering distaste for Maeve down with it. “She is going to be fine, I promise,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Turns out Maeve’s ex fiancé wasn’t the stalker. In fact, he was being stalked himself, and whilst JJ and Garcia were looking over the images posted to Robert whilst him and Maeve were still together they discovered something that changed the entire direction of the investigation.

Maeve’s face had scribbled out in eyeliner.

You and the team spent the next thirty minutes rebuilding the profile from the bottom up.

“Celebrity stalkers are usually non violent,”

“You want to tell that to John Lennon Rossi?” Spencer looked up from his lap towards the group at the table, having separated himself from the group to sit on a sofa lining one of the walls so he couldn’t bias the profile.

It wasn’t going too well.

“What was it that Mark David Chapman said after he shot him?” Spencer stood from his seat, anger flaring in his nostrils. “‘It was like all of my nobody-ness and all of his somebody-ness collided’,”

You could hear the rise in his tone as he worked himself up the more he spoke.

“Spencer-“

“Maeve is somebody. And this- bitch is a nobody.”

“Spencer.”

Spencer caught your gaze, and immediately fizzling out of his eyes and replaced with guilt. “I’m sorry- I can’t be very helpful right now I should leave-“

“Yes you can Reid, you have 100.5 days of communication with this girl and a recall everything verbatim,” Morgan’s gaze is entirely concerned with Spencer’s outburst.

“There’s too much of it, and I can’t sort through any of it clearly-“ Spencer is clearly on the edge of breaking, and you can tell he’s not going to be able to keep his composure for much longer.

“Then pick one of us and we’ll go through it with you,” Hotch leaned his elbows against the table, his voice again portraying that soft, parental tone that said he knew how overwhelmed Spencer was getting.

Spencer didn’t even say anything, his eyes just silently flickered over to you and you knew you couldn’t refuse him.

You return his silence as you get up from your seat and pat your hand on his shoulder for the two of you to exit the room together.

Time to torture yourself for the sake of Spencer’s wellbeing.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Diane Turner, a research assistant working for her PhD in the same lab as Maeve. A student who had her thesis rejected because it contained a heavy sample bias that included both of her parents.

It took a while, but Garcia eventually managed to track down a loft that was owned under Diane’s parents’ names, less than 10 minutes away from Maeve’s apartment.

“Take your gun and vest off,” Diane’s voice is harsh through the receiver attached to the front of the building, and Spencer’s eyes flickered up from the silk blindfold in his hands to the metal box.

He doesn’t question the orders as he immediately begins stripping the vest from his torso, dropping it and his gun on the floor.

“Now come in alone.”

“Spencer.” You call out to him as he reaches for the door handle, and he gives you that look that makes your stomach do flips in your torso. Except this time it’s not that pleasant fluttery feeling, but instead an existential dread at the fact that he might not walk out of the building alive.

“I’ll be okay,” He gives you a nod of reassurance as he pushes the door open, and you find yourself clenching your hands around your gun to stop yourself from following after him.

The six of you wait outside for what feels like hours, and you lean back and forth on the balls of your feet as you become increasingly restless with the situation.

Then, a gunshot.

And a second.

And your heart drops in your chest.

You’re not entirely present as you rush into the building with the team following behind you, gun raised at your eyes.

Spencer had to be okay. He had to. He was going to be fine. You were going to walk into that room and he was going to be perfectly fine.

You hoped Maeve was alright too. As much as she was unintentionally causing you literal hell, you knew that she meant everything to Spencer.

You knew that he’d choose her over anything. He’d choose her over you.

And right now you don’t care. You just want him to be okay.

You force the door open to the loft with your foot, gun pointed straight ahead at the first person you see.

“Stay back-“ Spencer practically shouts from where he’s half lying on the floor, right hand clutching tightly at his left bicep, trails of blood cascading down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Stay back stay back don’t shoot-“

You let out an audible sigh at the fact that Spencer wasn’t critically harmed, although upon a whimper of his name from further across the room you turn your eyes up to the noise.

And you finally meet the girl that’s caused you ten months of hell. Held at gunpoint.

That small voice in the back of your head tells you that this might be your chance to finally rid her from your life, to let her succumb to whatever Diane had planned and leave Spencer to you.

But you take one look at the desperation in her eyes and any loathing that remained in your mind immediately fizzled out.

It wasn’t her fault. Of course it wasn’t. She was just a girl that happened to be in love.

“Diane,” Spencer pushes himself to stand, and you can see the pain in his face as he does. “There’s still a way out of this,”

“You never wanted me. Never!” Diane pushes the gun she’s holding hard against Maeve’s neck, and you can see her eyes squeeze closed as she attempts to keep herself from crying. “You lied!”

“I didn’t.”

Spencer shakes his head adamantly, and you glance over at Hotch as you spread across the back of the room, guns raised in Diane’s direction. “Diane, I offered you a deal, and you can still take it,”

“Me for her. Let me take her place,”

You only have a view of the back of Spencer’s head now, but you can tell by the tone of his voice that his expression is a pure display of desperation, one that you’re happy you can’t see because you’d lose your composure in an instant.

“You would do that?” Diane’s question is angry and accusatory, tears rolling down her face as she presses the gun against Maeve’s neck once more.

Spencer nods with no threat in his tone. “Yes,”

“You would kill yourself for her?”

“Yes.”

You practically feel your heart stop.

“Thomas Merton,” Maeve’s voice is almost exactly as you imagined it to be. Soft, smooth and, as Spencer had called it all those months ago, ‘dipped in honey’.

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane’s tone contrasts Maeve’s tenfold, pitchy, uneven and overrun with manic anger.

“He knows,” You can see Maeve’s eyes flicker, and you assume that they meet Spencer’s as his shoulders drop. “He knows.”

“Who’s Thomas Merton?” Diane shakes Maeve in her grasp as if to intensify the urgence of her question, and you tighten your grip on your gun in instinctual response. “Who is he?”

“He’s the one thing you can never take from us,” Maeve’s voice is confident and defiant despite the clear tears in her eyes.

Thomas Merton could’ve been something between Spencer and you.

“No.”

You can see a clear change in Diane’s expression at Maeve’s words, and she lowers the gun from Maeve’s head only to hold it up against her own, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes.

“Wait-”

Spencer barely has time to shout the word before the gun fires, and you flinch at the sound as you watch Maeve and Diane both drop to the floor, dark red blood pooling around the two.

You can feel the tension in the room as everyone computes what just happened, guns lowering slowly as their eyes lock onto the two women on the floor.

You’re not focused on that. You’re focused on the tightness of Spencer’s shoulders as he takes sharp breaths in and out of his nose.

The way he seems to forget about the bullet wound in his arm as his legs give out underneath him.

The way a sob that leaves his mouth despite the fact that he tries to muffle it with his hand.

The way that Spencer broke.

He's crying. Big, heaving, heart-wrenching sobs.

His shoulders are trembling.

His hands are shaking.

His head is hanging downwards so that his hair is covering his face.

You approach him slowly, kneeling down at his side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

His eyes slowly shift from Maeve, his sobs only seeming to amplify as he meets your gaze. His eyes are red and closely with tears, his cheeks running hot and his lips trembling.

You don’t speak, knowing that you’ll break if you do. Instead, you guide his head into your shoulder and let him crumble in your arms, grieving the loss of the love of his life.

You’re sure you’re going to cry yourself to sleep when you get home, but right now, you needed to be strong. For him.

“I’m so sorry-“ Spencer speaks through broken sobs as you hold him, the rest of the team moving to secure the scene.

“Shh,” You shake your head against his softly, rubbing the palm of your hand up and down his back as you let him cry until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“I treated you so horribly-“ He pulls away from your shoulder to look into your eyes once more. “I’m so sorry- Please don’t leave me…”

You purse your lips into a line, your expression full of so many emotions Spencer can’t distinguish any of them.

“I’m not going anywhere,” You pull his head back into your shoulder, leaning your head against his. “I promise…”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst #mgg #asks 🫶

867 notes · View notes

moraxsthrone · 1 year

Text

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — WHEN HE CUMS UNTOUCHED (sort of)

ft. diluc, itto, kaeya, thoma, zhongli (separately; kaeya's is x gn!reader; all others are x f!reader)

be warned: nsfw. mdni. diluc's: wet dream/self-inflicted somnophilia(?)/oral (m. rcv'ing)/cum eating. itto's: rut/face-riding/oral (f. rcv'ing). kaeya's: prostate milking. thoma's: subby thoma/blindfold/sensory deprivation/marking/edging/orgasm denial. zhongli's: shibari/rope play/bondage/f. masturbation/squirting (his is kinda long - that's what she said - so i formatted it a little differently so it wouldn't be a 1k wall of text)

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — DILUC

you wake up to the feeling of diluc rutting his hips behind you, his hot morning wood rubbing slowly between your naked butt cheeks. you smile groggily, your mind still shaking off the fog of sleep as you roll back against him. fuck, you missed him so much. he came home late last night, so damn tired he didn’t eat or anything; just stripped all his clothes off, crawled into bed, and pulled you into his arms. he’d been gone for almost a month, working tirelessly alongside his employees to help with the grand opening of a brand new angel’s share location in liyue. branching out is great for business, but being separated for such an extended period was rough on both of you. you would’ve accompanied him to the land of commerce, but someone needed to hang back and manage the day to day operations at both the winery and tavern in mondstadt. but it’s okay bc your husband is home again now, and is presently grinding his neglected dick against your plush butt. intertwining your fingers with his in front of your lips, you groan and kiss the knuckle of his thumb, “mm, diluc baby, missed you…” he responds by rocking his pelvis harder. unbeknownst to you, he’s dreaming a sweet little dream of sinking his thick, pale cock inside the wet heat of your cunt. he grunts, but you don’t think much of his non-verbal response until his hips buck and then still as you feel his warm, creamy fluid squirt against your bare ass. you gasp and look over your shoulder to see him smack his lips sleepily as his eyelids flutter for an instant. realizing he’s still asleep and in the throes of a wet dream, you throw the covers back and sink down between his legs to clean his cum from his cock with a warm tongue bath, making his dreams even wetter for him.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ITTO

he’s in the peak of one of his ruts when he comes over to your place in need. your scent alone is enough to make him feral when he’s in heat like this. the towering oni barely makes it through your front door before scooping you up and carrying you to bed where he drops you on your back. he stands up again, staring down at you and licking his fangs as he peels his shirt off, exposing the scarlet markings on his broad chest and hard abs. he’s sniffing at the air, his mouth watering when he catches the familiar scent of your arousal. something about being manhandled by your oni makes you so wet for him, especially when his mating pheromones are lighting up the pleasure center of your reptilian brain. “take your clothes off, baby,” he commands, and you obey. he strips down to his boxers and lies down on his back before grabbing your naked thighs and practically dragging you on top of him. his thick, veiny cock has popped out of the hole in his underwear like it always does when he gets hard because he’s so fucking big. you sigh when your moist cunt drags along the textured underside of his wide shaft, the thick vein there rolling over your clit. you slick him up with your wet folds, gliding with ease and letting out a little whimper when your little pink pearl catches on the large mushroom tip of his cock. he’s watching your pretty pussy milk his precum out of his dark pink slit, the clear liquid oozing out almost nonstop and glistening in his white happy trail. “fuck, baby, come sit on my face,” he grumbles, cupping your ass in his huge hands and pulling you to straddle his shoulders. “y’smell so good ‘n i wanna taste ya…” you’re more than happy to oblige him, knowing how much he loves it when you ride his face and my gods, he’s so good at eating pussy, why wouldn’t you? you settle down on his waiting mouth, a shiver racing down your spine when his long tongue darts out to tease your engorged clit. immediately, your legs start to shake and you have to hold onto his horns to steady yourself so you don’t fall forward. he pulls your clit into his hot mouth, wrapping his lips around you, suckling your hard bud in pulses until you’re a whining mess above him. he’s watching you, slowly rutting his aching cock into the air behind you. his magma irises are nearly overtaken by his slitted pupils as you throw your head back and rock your hips. “f-fuck me with your tongue, itto~” he releases your clit with a lewd, wet pop; his black-painted claws drawing blood beneath the surface of your skin when he digs them into your plush ass to pull you harder against his face. he’s all but fucking the air with his drooling cock when he plunges his tongue inside your tight hole. you’re nearly sobbing when your fists tighten around his red horns, using them for leverage to fuck his face. the tip of his nose is bumping against your twitching clit when he growls and you cum hard in his mouth. you’re still clenching helplessly around his prodding tongue when he moans and you feel his long, thick ribbons of hot cum streak across your back.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — KAEYA

your boyfriend is lying on his back, enjoying the attention you’ve been giving to his naked body. you’ve left countless kisses and pretty little marks between his thighs when you press two fingers against his perineum, making him moan shamelessly as he arches his back off the bed. gods, he loves it. you haven’t even touched his dick yet, which is rock hard, twitching and leaking between his open legs. you spit on your fingers where they line up with his ass before massaging his rim. down to a mere shred of dignity, the cavalry captain is uncharacteristically close to begging, thrusting his purple-tipped cock into the air when he bucks his hips in an effort to try and push himself onto your finger as you prod at his tight little hole. he’s gritting his teeth and clenching his fists above his head but when he feels the delectable pressure of your digit finally entering him, his features go slack as a high-pitched sigh leaves his lips. his beautifully-toned arms are flexing, knuckles going white around his pillow while he clenches rhythmically around the tip of your finger as you slowly work it in a little deeper. “nnhmm~ fuck, baby…” he groans, arching his back again, “...give me more…” you tut at him with a light chuckle, “so greedy, kaeya.” but you oblige him. you pull out of him just long enough to add a second finger before pushing inside again, and he gasps. “oh fuck yes~” he brings a hand to your face and you look up at him to meet his heavy-lidded, heterochromatic gaze. his lips are parted and a dark pink blush graces his cheeks. “you look particularly stunning like this, love,” you coo at him, gently pressing deeper inside, “pleasure is definitely your color.” he smiles at you and cups your cheek, pressing his thumb to your lips which you happily welcome inside your mouth to suck on. “it’s all for you, snowflake hahhh~” his eyes roll back when you curl your fingers to press against that telltale soft spot inside of him. you wrap your free hand around his thigh, kissing and sucking new marks there as you gently fuck his puckering hole with your fingers. “ohh…hnn…gods yes!” he keens “fuck me harder, baby~” you thrust into him with increased pressure, tugging harder and harder on his p-spot, watching his dark-skinned balls move in his sac as they draw closer to his body - all while telling him how fucking sexy he looks for you and how you can’t wait to ride his cock. his mouth is open, eyes closed, he’s humping the air again when you feel him tighten around you. “fuck, f-feels so good…i’m- nnggnnfuck! cumming, baby!” his walls squeeze your fingers in hard, rhythmic pulses, his thick cock bouncing lewdly and slinging long ropes of his hot cum across his own chest and abs as he whimpers your name.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — THOMA

you’ve had this sweet boi on his knees for the past hour, completely naked and blindfolded. you’ve touched nearly every inch of his body with some part of your own, but with the clear expectations that 1) he has to keep his hands to himself and 2) he’s not allowed to cum until you tell him to. and he’s done so well. he’s even told you when he was close a few times so you could quickly wrap your fingers around the base of his pretty cock and squeeze it hard to hold his orgasm back. now he’s sitting back on his heels, strong thighs spread open, the rest of his senses in overdrive from the temporary loss of sight. a long, clear thread of precum dangles underneath his shaft as it leaks from his slit in a near-constant drip, making a cute little puddle on the floor between his legs. dark spots are forming in the fabric where the corners of his eyes are watering from the overwhelming-but-unresolved pleasure you’re giving him. you kneel down in front of him, inching your way between his legs until you’re close enough to kiss him. he eagerly kisses you back, chasing your lips when you pull away to suck on his pulse point. he stifles a whine when you lightly pinch his nipple and lovingly lick the new mark you made on his neck. you leave a trail of feather-light kisses along his jawline, making him bite his lip when you stop to nibble playfully at his earlobe. “always such a good, obedient boy for me, thoma,” you whisper, eliciting a hiss from him as you force his rock hard cock down to let the shiny, swollen tip slip between your wet pussy lips and nudge against your clit. “mmm~so hard…your cockhead feels so good, baby,” you coo in his ear. “your cunt…so warm,” he pants, his breath hot on your cheek. “ohhgods, gonna cum!” he warns. you pull away, letting his cock slap against his belly while sliding your fingers down to his base to give him a hard squeeze, but it’s too little too late. thoma tries to fight it, but his body betrays him and his hips begin to thrust involuntarily. he chokes back something between a groan and a whimper while his seed squirts out of his winking cockhole and against his navel before dribbling down his length and over your fingers. “m’sorry, milady,” he pants. “i tried not to…” but you take pity on him and untie his blindfold to find his pretty green eyes pleading with you. “hey,” you whisper against the corner of his mouth, “it’s okay, baby boy. you did so well for me and i’m proud of you.” he presses his forehead to yours and nods before kissing you passionately and lowering you to the floor so he can fuck you properly.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — ZHONGLI

he’s such a good sport, letting you practice some of the shibari skills he’s taught you…on him. the arm binder you’ve got him in looks beautiful; you take a couple of pictures and show them to him.

“hm, yes, very elegant indeed," he critiques thoughtfully. "your symmetry has greatly improved as well.”

you beam with pride at his praise and kiss his cheek. “thank you, li...although much of the credit goes to my most capable teacher,” you say with a wink.

you take a step back, admiring your work while seeking his reassurance that he’s adequately restrained, but not in any pain. you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make you a little wet - his bare, chiseled arms of onyx and gold bound exquisitely by black jute behind his back. this gives you an idea and you start to undress.

his lips curve into a little smile as you take off your top. “what are you doing, love?” he asks, enjoying the show.

you smirk down at him as you push your shorts down your legs before letting them fall to the floor. “a test,” you say, sitting on the edge of your shared bed just a few feet opposite him. “let’s see just how proficient i’ve become.”

he chuckles lowly as you lean back and spread your legs for him. a faint glow flickers behind his amber eyes as they follow your fingers when they begin to trace light patterns along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs. the mouth-watering scent of your arousal hits his nose, sending a dull ache straight to his balls.

he watches intently as your fingers graze your slit, a dark groan forming in his throat when you spread your dewy petals for him. you hum appreciatively as you let your middle finger slide between your folds, collecting your slippery nectar on your fingertip before rolling your clit around with it. he shifts in his chair, a subtle adjustment that provides little more room for his cock to grow.

you let out a quiet moan and he licks his lips as he watches some of your slick trickle out before you gather it on your finger and smooth it over your hardening bud. his cock is getting uncomfortably hard and he’s beginning to get slightly annoyed at the fact that he keeps trying to bring a hand to his front to adjust himself, only to be reminded that he can’t. you even looped the rope through the slatted back of the chair he’s sitting in, so he can’t even stand up. you’re close enough to him that were his arms not bound, he would need only reach out to touch you, but in his current predicament all he can do is watch helplessly as you pleasure yourself.

you look between your legs to see him staring intently, his lips parted, eyes glowing fiercely as he shifts again in his seat. the god formerly known as rex lapis is so mesmerized by your masturbation that he doesn’t notice the mischievous grin that takes shape on your flushed face as you bite your lip. you watch his bright eyes widen when you finally dip a finger inside your tight hole. the sight of your slick coating your finger as you let it sink in all the way to your knuckle makes him huff impatiently. he can already taste you on the back of his tongue when he feels the first bead of his precum leak out onto his thigh.

you thrust your finger slowly a few more times before pulling it out and bringing it to your mouth to suck, only to return it to your cunt and adding a second finger to fuck yourself with. his cock is throbbing painfully in the confines of his pants and he’s desperate for something, anything to rut against.

you’re fingering yourself deeper now, harder, forcing more of your need out around your fingers, drenching your knuckles. your palm is slapping your clit as you raise your hips off the bed. zhongli’s hips start rocking on reflex, the pressure of his slacks pressing his cock against his thigh making him sigh with some semblance of relief. it’s not ideal but he’s so needy that if he doesn’t fuck something he's sure he’ll go mad.

inside his pants, he’s leaking all over his thigh, his swollen cockhead gliding easily through the puddle of precum on his leg and he whines at how good it feels. the warmth of his own skin, the slick of his pre, the texture of his slacks - it’s all too much. “cum! cum for me, darling…” he growls.

“hnnhh~ li? mmgonna cum for you,” you whine, struggling to keep up with your own impending orgasm, but you manage. “fuck! zhongli!” you cry, so worked up over the show you’re giving him that you squirt against your own hand for him.

he’s thrusting faster now, shamelessly rolling his hips, humping his own thigh. “nnhhhfuck…” he groans, the searing coil at the base of his spine about to snap. with just a couple more drags of his cock over his slick thigh, his mouth falls open in a loud moan, his hips jerking as a large wet spot spreads over the leg of his pants. he cums on himself so hard that some of his creamy white nut seeps through the fabric of his dark slacks before dripping down his inner thigh onto the floor below.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — masterlist

ੈ✩‧₊˚ — thank you for reading, loves. please consider reblogging and/or commenting if you enjoyed! smooches for you!

2K notes · View notes

lefty-scribes · 1 year

Text

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all.

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

1K notes · View notes

theanimeroom · 4 months

Note

Do you think you could do a NSFW on kazutora please, I just saw this picture and couldn't help but think about how perverted he is and how lonely he is, so what if we found him like this.

the moment i clicked on that picture i got kazu brain rot give me a minute 😖

MINORS DNI || NSFW BELOW THE CUT

this is never where you thought you’d end up.

you’d always imagined what it would be like to start college when you were younger. you wondered where you’d go, what you would do, what people you would meet, you even planned out exactly what your dormitory room would look like when you finished decorating.

the moment you finally stepped into your new life, walking into your new bedroom for the next year, you could feel your imagination coming to fruition. despite all the daydreams and extensive planning you went through to prepare, you never really thought past your first year of freedom.

now, four years in and almost a college graduate, you’ve found yourself in a spacious apartment with your now best friend, kazutora hanemiya. you’d both met during your sophomore year, your roommate at the time, emma, introducing you to him at a house party you were attending. you two hit it off pretty quickly, immediately becoming glued to each others side for the rest of the night, and pretty much every day after that. you spent the next two years getting close to each other until one day, kazutora offered to be your roommate after you expressed your distaste for the prices of the off campus apartments. knowing him and recognizing that it would make your life a lot easier, you agreed rather easily.

living with kazutora was rather simple, thankfully. he was somewhat tidy, always cleaning up the living spaces but constantly leaving his bedroom a hot mess. you didn’t care though, being content with the fact that he at least cleaned the main areas whenever you couldn’t. he was also quiet, you barely ever noticed when he was walking around the house until you were being startled by a hand reaching above you to grab a snack from the cabinet. you even made a ritual out of your sunday nights, always making a huge bowl of popcorn and watching every movie that you could think of until someone passed out from sleep deprivation.

the only downside that came with being so close to your roommate was that you never really got the chance to hang out with him when finals came around. you would both get so wrapped up in studying and finishing your assignments that you would barely see him in a week, let alone every day. along with this being your graduation year, that meant that you had a thesis that needed to be completed before the end of the semester, which left you with no choice but to hole yourself up in your room while you tried to perfect your work.

on this particular day you decided to work in the campus library rather than your home, growing stir crazy and weary of the four walls suffocating you. it was late, the sun long gone and being replaced by the reflection of the moon and stars. your eyes were straining from staring at your computer screen for so long, and after a 10-second too long blink, you knew that it was time to wrap up for the night. yawns and fatigued sighs constantly left your lips as you drove back to your apartment, mind racing with thoughts of your pajamas and duvet that were anxiously awaiting you.

the moment you stepped into your apartment, you could feel your shoulders slack in relief. “kazu, i’m back!” you called out, making sure to say it just loud enough for him to hear, but not too loud in case he’d fallen asleep. you knew that kazutora was also busy with his own final exams coming up, seeing him every so often with his nose in a textbook around the house, or even being told about his study sessions right before he walked out of the house.

when you were only met with silence, you silently maneuvered around the house, making sure not to be too noisy in your wake. you dragged your feet to the stairs, feeling your sleepiness kicking in with every footstep.

well at least someone went to sleep at a decent time, it’s almost 3am.

your thoughts plagued you as you tried to keep your eyes open, not paying any mind to the slight crack in the bedroom door across from yours. when you finally made it to the top of the staircase, a small whimper reverberating through the hallway caught your attention. you peeled your drooping eyes open, eyebrows furrowing as the sound filled your ears again. your gaze was diverted to kazutora’s bedroom, where the ajar door exposed the blue hue of kazutora’s room. with a slight pause, you tried to listen for another noise, wondering if you’d just started hallucinating for a second from exhaustion.

“no,” a whiney voice muttered quietly, and you knew immediately that you were in fact not hallucinating.

taking a step towards the door, you contemplated on what you should do.

is he having a nightmare?

another heavy sigh leaves the room, and you finally decided to check on him for fear of him being in trouble.

“kazu…?” you asked, standing behind the door where you couldn’t be seen or see inside. when you heard kazutora whine again, you got a bit closer. “kazu are you okay?”

you decided to peek inside just for a moment, your eyes clearing the edge of the door until you caught a glimpse of your best friend, causing any and all fatigue to be wiped away from your stature without a trace. your eyes widened as you took in his figure; eyes locked shut and brows furrowed, skin tainted red as his hand shuffled in the confines of his sweatpants. there were a box of tissues laying next to his body that was propped up against his headboard, random pieces of the cloth crumpled along his sheets as his hips lunged off the bed. there was another whine, this one unintentionally going straight between your legs.

the wire of his headphones laid against his chest, sliding along the toned pecs with every heavy breath that escaped him. you were frozen in place, eyes wide and mouth watering as you shamelessly watched your best friend jerk off. a small part of you felt bad for playing the role of peeping tom, but when he was making such pretty noises, you weren’t exactly sure how you were supposed to react.

kazutora’s head jerked to the side, more than likely a reaction from whatever was playing into his ears right now, before a more guttural sound penetrated your own, the deep groan sounding like it came from the deepest parts of his chest. another whine slipped from him immediately after, his face contorting into something that looked almost like he was in pain.

he sounds so pitiful, fucking hell.

it looked like he was struggling, a small pout taking over his lips as his hand started to move spastically in his sweats, urgently trying to force himself into a release.

you found yourself taking a small step forward, your body moving instinctively without taking your eyes off of your best friend.

what am i doing? i really should get some help.

your intrusive thoughts didn’t stop you from quietly approaching him though, the dampness of your panties taking over your brain. you knew that this was a line that shouldn’t be crossed, you knew that this could potentially ruin everything that the two of you built for the past 3 years. but you also knew that kazutora was quite an intriguing person.

you knew he was attractive from the moment you laid eyes on him, and after having your first conversation, you were pretty much whipped for the man regardless. it was only when you’d become closer to him that you’d buried your lust in the deepest parts of your mind, hopefully to never be seen again, until today.

you didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship, not now, but when he was being so shameless, how were you supposed to control yourself?

you stopped your approach when you were hovering over the male, a close up look of the desperation painting his face leaving your cunt clenching around nothing. you watched him for another moment, taking in the sight before a manicured finger brushed the material of his sweatpants against his thigh.

with a sharp gasp kazutora nearly launched himself off of the bed, eyes looking like they were about to pop out of his head from fright as he ripped the headphones from his ears. you didn’t move as he scrambled to take his hands out of his pants, breathing labored and face even more red than it was before you made yourself known.

“sorry,” you couldn’t stop the small grin that plastered itself onto your face as you spoke. “i called your name but… i guess you couldn’t hear me.”

“y/n what are you doing??? you scared the shit out of me,” he chastised, not even acknowledging the position he found himself stuck in.

you put on a nonchalant visage before shrugging your shoulders, placing one of your knees against the cushion of his bed. kazutora pushed himself further against his headboard, mentally questioning what you were doing right now without ever taking his eyes off of you. “i was coming to check on you because i heard rather…. questionable noises coming from your room.”

“and now that you know what they were, you can leave now, right?” he asked, his eyes pleading with you to just forget everything you just saw and pretend like it never happened. he fidgeted in his spot, legs moving every so often and gaze constantly averting yours. you’d never seen the man like this before, but it lit something inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. wondering just how far you could take this, you decided to press your luck just a little bit.

“and what would be the fun in that?” you chuckled, placing one hand on the thigh closest to you before digging the pads of your fingers into the material covering his skin. “besides, weren’t you having a bit of trouble finishing the job?”

your question made his ears turn bright red, silence taking over him as you slowly climbed your way into his lap. you didn’t miss the way his breath hitched when you made yourself comfortable, seating yourself right on the throbbing bulge between his legs. kazutora watched your every move, but never made a motion to stop you. you decided to test the limits when you placed a hand on his chest, applying a bit of pressure as you carefully rolled your hips against his.

the moan that came out if the man under you was something deadly, the sharp sound piercing your ears in a way that you could only describe as delightful. the longer you played with kazu the more you found yourself losing your cool, listening to his sounds of pleasure and shock and knowing that it was you who made him lose it this way.

“w-wait, y/n…” he said, hands trying to keep themselves at bay.

“c’mon kazu,” you smiled, biting at your lower lip. kazutora’s eyes were glued to where your crotch slid against his, the friction of your hips doing so much more for him than the audios he was listening to previously. he watched as you rocked against him, his legs twitching and hips bucking up for more with every movement. you leaned in slowly, closing the distance between your faces before you lifted his gaze to yours. his pupils were blown wide, a lustful gaze clouding his face. “won’t you let me help you out a little bit?”

you could feel his breath fan against your lips with every heave, and you wondered in that moment just how good his lips would feel against yours. you stalled right before your lips could touch, your eyes locking with his one last time for a final confirmation.

kazutora paused for a millisecond before eyeballing your semi-parted lips. “you know there’s no going back after this?”

you could tell he was having the same reservations as you, but you held your resolve and nodded your head. the moment you saw that flicker in his eye, you knew you had him hook, line, and sinker. “fuck it.”

his lips smashed against yours the moment the words left his mouth, a soft grunt slipping past your mouth and into his at the pressure. the kiss felt even better than you had imagined it to be, the softness of his bottom lip between yours left your brain fuzzy and body warm. you grabbed at his dark locks as you rocked your body against his once more, huffing out a weak moan as the slick lining your panties rubbed against your clit just right.

your tongue swiped at his lower lip, humming when he parted his lips to allow you in. he tasted like mint mixed with a hint of beer, probably a result of the last study session he had with his classmates in a nearby cafe a few of hours earlier. you relished the smooth glide of his tongue against yours, swallowing every needy sound that escaped his mouth.

his fingers twitched against the sheets as he watched you use him for your own pleasure, his eyes darkening as he tried to resist digging them into your waist. your parted your lips from his with a sloppy smack, peering into his eyes as you glide your hands along his shoulders, down to the dips on the inside of his elbow, before wrapping your own fingers around his hands and placing them onto the soft skin of your waist.

“don’t be scared, kazu,” you spoke softly, keeping your faces only an inch apart as you continued to guide him. you listened to the way his breath caught in his throat as you dragged his hands up your body, pausing when the palms of his hands were wrapped around your breast, the thin layer of the tank top you were wearing leaving little to the imagination. with a soft squeeze you rolled your eyes back, relishing in the feeling of his hands on you. with a soft exhale you leaned into the man’s grip, bringing your lips as close to his ear as possible. “you can use me however you want to get off.”

turns out, phrasing it as “however” he wanted wasn’t the best idea. the moment the words slipped past your lips you were immediately flipped onto your back, the feeling of sharp teeth digging into the flesh of your neck. he bit and sucked on every area that he could find, hands covering every expanse of you. the ghost of his touch made your back arch, aching deeply for the feeling of his cock filling you.

you were so overstimulated that you didn’t even register the feeling of his fingers slipping down your naked lower half, not even sparing your swollen clit a passing touch before he shoved two fingers into your sopping cunt. your eyes immediately touched the back of your head, hands crumpling the fabric of the pillow under your head. violent curses rang out from you as he wasted no time in curling them upwards, ramming the pads of the digits into that spongy area that left you seeing stars.

“sorry princess,” he huffed through labored breaths. you weren’t sure whether he was fucking you or if you were fucking him at this point. he arched his wrist once more, relishing in the feeling of your walls squeezing around his fingers. “i’m in a rush too, but i gotta get you ready. don’t wanna hurt you.”

kazutora placed another few kisses against your neck, lips traveling across your body until he was hovering between your legs, eyes glancing up as you followed his movements. with another curl of his fingers, you rolled your hips.

your best friend lowered his head, pressing a light kiss against the hood covering your clit. your hips jerked at the action, barely even having time to register the initial touch before your clit was enveloped into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves. you gasped, hands weaving into his hair as his ministrations shot straight to your lower belly. his fingers continued to poke and prod at your g spot, your moans taking over the sounds of your essence leaking over his hand. he pulled away for a moment, a discontent whine leaving you at the loss of pleasure. “can’t let my baby get hurt trying to take me, now can i?”

your heart sank at the statement, your eyes peeling open to glance down at the bulge pressing against his sweats. you knew from sitting on it that it was at least a bit girthy, but you also knew that the man wouldn’t say anything that he knew wasn’t true. especially in a situation like this.

and pleasantly surprised you were when kazutora had pulled his lips away from your clit, leaving your breathless form laying haphazardly against the bed while he finally slipped of his sweats and underwear. you’d only noticed it when the man himself had brought you back down to earth, hand gripping your jaw before pressing his lips against yours roughly. you could taste your essence on his tongue as he dragged the tip of his cock against your folds, your body jerking when it brushed against your clit.

at the first ounce of pressure as he slid inside of you, you knew that this man was much bigger than whatever you’d imagined. peeling your heavy eyes open to glance down at where you two were connected, your gaze was something akin to horror as you watched the fat tip bully it’s way into your pussy. the first couple of inches left your cunt clenching down at the pressure, the burn making your face contort.

“i know baby, i know,” kazutora muttered softly, face tucking itself into the crook of your neck as he tried to pace himself. he placed light kisses over what are soon-to-be bruises, waiting until your rapid breathing had calmed down before pressing in some more. “that’s why i had to prep you.”

no amount of prep could have saved you from this, but there was no stopping as kazutora filled you to the brim, hips flush against each other. the man’s cock reached places in your body that you didn’t even know existed, the pressure of him filling you to the brim being enough leave your head spinning and body twitching. your hips instinctively rolled in search of more friction, feeling the man’s cock throb as he reached impossibly further into you.

the first thrust of his hips forced a guttural sound from your throat, the next one getting caught behind the phantom sensation of his tip breaching your throat.

“f-fuck!!” your voice was higher than you were used to hearing, your mouth growing dry from having it open for so long. the sounds of moans and squeaks from the bed were quickly heard resonating around the room, your skin felt like it was on fire every time his hips connected with yours. his thrusts were brutal, every muscle in your body tightening and loosening while the sounds of his moans penetrated your ears.

“so. fucking. good.” he almost growled, each word being punctuated by a harsh thrust behind it. “so much better than a stupid hand…”

“yeah?” the word nearly went unheard with your softened tone, legs wrapped around the man’s waist to pull him closer. you locked eyes with him, a tired hand reaching up to cup his cheek. kazutora moaned at the contact, the whimper coming out strained as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. you loved how easy it was to make him crack, just a smidge of attention and the man before you was putty in your hand. “maybe we should do this more often then.”

you couldn’t remember a day when he wasn’t yearning for your attention, honestly. anytime you came around he was stuck to you like glue, you could barely even move around the house without him making himself known to you in some way. he may have been relatively quiet, but you always saw him at least a few times a day, and both of you being distracted with school really took a toll on you both. he was always right by your side, but you had the tendency to be just as needy, so you never had a problem with it. the more you thought back on all the tell tale signs, the more you realized that this outcome probably would have been the end result to your friendship anyway.

“how about everyday?” he asked, head perching up at the suggestion. his eyes were big and hopeful, and you had to clench around him to make his expression change before your heart tried to explode. “is that a yes?”

with a small hum you placed your lips right next to his ear. “why don’t you make me come first, then we’ll talk.”

and come you did.

it took all of 10 seconds before kazutora was picking you apart; legs raised and placed against his shoulders, body folded in half, while his fingers placed themselves in the crooks between yours.

you were barely conscious by that point, eyes blurry and your body shaking from the intensity of his thrusts. you could barely breath, short hics resonating from your throat before being masked by kazu’s lips. you felt like you would die at any moment, yet you were convinced that this was the closest to heaven you’d ever get.

you could feel the heat rising in your stomach, eyes locking with his as you squeezed the hand that was occupying your own.

“m’gonna come…” you slurred, short breaths taking over your body as your brain short circuited. “gonna come, gonna come!!”

your back arched off the bed the best it could as every nerve in your body was set on fire, tingles shooting through your spine and running down to the tips of your toes. you clenched around him, nearly suffocating his cock as he worked you through your high. his pace never slowed as his own orgasm took him by surprise, a quick grunt slipping through as he pulled away.

you didn’t hesitate to wrap your free hand against his shaft, jerking the tip until his body was trembling in your grip. his eyes immediately crossed, breathy moans becoming more frantic before stopping instantaneously. “wait…wait, wait–”

“fucking– shit! ohmygod…” his body froze as his release stained your stomach, his body jerking with every inch of the thick, white stream. you stroked him through it until his hips were running away from your touch, the long anticipated orgasm he was searching for finally flooding through him. he tucked his head into your neck once more, his words being muffled by the surface of your skin as he searched for your warmth. “oh my- ughhh fuck me.”

your eyes slipped shut as your body sank into the sheets, your legs slipping from kazutora’s shoulders and onto the sides of his hips. your best friend slumped beside you, body plopping onto the space beside you while his hand never left yours, even for a moment. you could only hear the sounds of both your heavy breathing, attempting to catch your breaths as the heat of the moment started to wear off.

the silence was broken when kazutora let out a soft hum, body leaning into yours too seek your warmth. when you nuzzled into his touch, you laughed to yourself when you heard him mutter into your ear. “so, what was that about doing this more often?”

don’t plagiarize! it’s not nice <3

#blues asks 💎#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo rev smut #tr kazutora smut #kazutora smut #kazutora hanemiya smut #kazutora hanemiya #tr smut

193 notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Note

Feel free to ignore this! I'm just v sleep deprived and having brain rot inspired by some things I saw in ur writing and thought it may be up ur alley. Also this brainrot thingy is mainly aimed at readers who have the ability to get pregnant so if that don't sit right with you feel free to ignore it or change aspects of it!

Hear me out right. A mix of the sex doll au and hybrid au (either fox or husky) for childe. But like in the doll au how he replaces components as a form of trying to live out the dad fantasy? Yeah that but in the hybrid au. Like reader is trying to rehabilitate this poor little baby fox kit/husky puppy that's really sickly and was abandoned. Childe basically looks at the reader playing nurse/mommy for this poor thing almost 24/7 (his attention is being deprived lol) and goes "oh yeah that little one is ours duh". He starts exhibiting protective dad behavior while simultaneously being like "look at how good of a job I can do".

Follow up to that the pup/kit either gets better and can be handed off to another conservationist who has other young hybrids and would do a better job at caring for them in a group environment with other hybrid kiddos so there's less of a risk of em becoming too domesticated. And reader is supper bummed out about it for a while bc all their attention was zoned in on this one really precious little one and now they've moved onto bigger pastures 🥲. Meanwhile childe sees this and is like "oh now I can both console my mate in their grief, I've proven I'm a capable partner, I can totally help them make new little ones!"

Take all of that inspo/brainstorming as u will. Also if you consider people submitting ideas as commissions I apologize for misunderstanding! Did not intend to overstep 🙇‍♀️

tw - implied violence, child neglect/abandonment, and obsessive behavior.

fjdkljdfksdj i think this would probably be more plausible with husky!childe, but something about this scenario with fox!childe is just,,,

it'd just be so sweet to watch him dote over the tiny, terrified kit one of your friends found shivering in a snowbank. you really aren't qualified to take care of such a young hybrid, but while you scramble to get a hold of a more experienced volunteer, childe picks up the slack. despite being old enough to walk, the poor thing barely leaves his arms. he handles their near-hourly feedings, modifies the ill-fitting clothes you pull out of storage to accommodate their tail and hind legs, even lets them crawl between you and him at night and violate his cardinal rule (no one else gets to so much as touch your bed except for him - an unspoken law that's resulted in more than a few bitten hands and bleeding guests). he does his best to put a dent in their never-ending energy, and when it's time for you to take over, he's never more than a few feet away, wagging his tail as you take the kit's temperature and try to convince them to swallow a few drops of medicine. and, when you finally contact a volunteer with a small shelter and a pack of orphaned kits, childe seems as happy as you are, rubbing his cheek against theirs as he tells them that they'll be home soon enough. it's sweet, even if fox-hybrid dynamics are, admittedly, a little lost on you. honestly, you're just relieved you'll be able to sleep through the night again.

at least, you're relieved until you get back from work the next day, until you find your door unlocked and your apartment wrecked, furniture overturned and rust-colored stains soaked into your carpeting. you find childe on the foot of your bed, bouncing a crying kit in his lap and gushing them quietly, but he doesn't look concerned. if anything, his posture is slack, the smile written across his face nothing short of ecstatic. he looks calm. he looks happy.

he looks like someone who only just found his way home.

#hybrid au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere childe #childe x reader #yandere ajax #yandere tartaglia

434 notes · View notes

bokettochild · 10 days

Text

New Violet Incident

Happy birthday to me! I'm giving YOU GUYS a gift!!!

I mean, technically it's barely the 11th, but eh, who cares? I'm officially old (lol) and Legend and Warriors are getting grey hairs as a result!

Also, I feel the need to clarify that this is a Violet Incident(TM), because usually the Violet fics have the name in their titles (i.e. "Violet's Mother", "Violet's Sisters", ect) but I'm sleep deprived and I think I'm funny, and I also couldn't think of way to make this "Violet _______" as Four isn't even in it.

So yeah. Violet-Verse expansion pack, I guess? LOL

Hopefully next time will be the whumps, but who knows? With my brain, it could be anything!

Enjoy!!!!

#the violet incidents #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu warriors #ketto writes

87 notes · View notes

hyewka · 1 year

Text

STRICTLY PLATONIC [teaser] | choi beomgyu

SUMMARY. fucking your best friend was supposed to be a one time thing in the hopes of relinquishing feelings for your ex, but a one time turned into a weekly and cuddles after sex are way too intimate for your liking. but beomgyu insists that he’d never catch feelings for you, that he’s experienced in these types of arrangements. he still saw you as his best friend! it was totally only platonic for you too… right?

GENRE. smut, fluff, angst, college au, a hyewka fic with plot and structure.. sort of

TEASER WARNINGS. nothing explicit just some marking lol

AUTHOR NOTE. the dream fwb fic ive been wanting to write for ages so thank you to the ask i recently replied to as it was the main motivator for this 😭 this is going to be a long one so we're going the traditional route with a teaser, im opening a tag list so if you wish to be added send an ask or comment!

You’ve never seen Choi Beomgyu in a different light. That’s what you liked about him, that everything was so… constant. Your life could crash and burn but hey, Beomgyu was still Beomgyu— your friendship was a variable in your life that stayed undeniably the exact same.

You know, until you allowed him to fuck your brains out.

Even the sole fact that you have given the thought of Beomgyu being a ‘sex symbol’ has you quivering out of sheer horror— Beomgyu… has never been a sex symbol. Sure, he fucked around, and has a reputation and yeah sure, he was crazy hot when he isn’t showing signs of extreme sleep deprivation …but you’ve just never seen him in that light.

And to have let it simmer in your thoughts for longer than a second, makes you just a tinge hesitant in letting the silly goof pull you into the dancing crowd. You whine, “I’m tired Beomgyu! My heels are killing me.”

He either doesn’t hear over the blasting music or isn’t going to give it up because he pulls you in anyway, crashing your head right into his chest and you let out an instinctual ouch at the hard surface. Your eyes are wide looking up at him, sputtering out an unbelievable sentence. “Have you—have you been working out?”

His grin widens, holding up your arm to guide at feeling out his biceps. “Every now and then.” He doesn’t mind the minute it takes you to actually feel every muscle through his shirt, in fact he’s relishing in your sudden pique of interest in his body.

Whether he’s flexing them or not doesn’t show in his face—he looks completely relaxed and you finally admit—Beomgyu is getting toned.

“Why? You hate working out.” You could barely muffle those words with the way he had you engulfed in his arms, leaning his head in your neck, swaying side to side as if the song blasting was off of Taylor Swift’s Lover and not a Lil Wayne remix.

And he hasn’t even gotten a drop of alcohol yet.

But it’s true, Beomgyu hated the gym. Like, even more than you did. Which is a testament in and of itself.

He pulls away from the crook of your neck, a pout on his lips. “Didn’t you say your type was muscular men? At Halloween weekend?”

Halloween weekend was a year ago, the first frat party you managed to get into with the help of Beomgyu’s friend, Jake. You barely remember anything from it. Other than the occasional retells of the nights by Yunjin’s words, which are always a different version of the same story... so a not very credible source. “I mean, I guess they are. But what does that have to do with anything?”

“I don’t know, just saying. Jaehyun was suuper muscly.” Okay, the random mention of your ex…maybe he had some drop of alcohol.

“Are you drunk?”

“You took too long to come back, lost at beer pong.”

“How many shots?” you interrogate.

“Two.” At your suspecting glare, he continues on, “Four…five…like, at most seven.”

Your eyes bulge out, huffing out a scoff. You guys always got wasted together! Noticing the furrow of your brows he holds you tighter whining, “I know I know, sorry, I tried telling Heeseung but he’s a savage cruel man, I was practically force fed that cup.”

You don’t doubt that he attempted to persuade Heeseung but you do doubt the force feeding, it only takes a couple nudges before getting Beomgyu to drink. “I’m just slightly tipsy, not drunk yet anyway. I pledged to never ever get trashed without you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

You slap away the hand he puts up over his chest, incredulously, losing your control over the fits of giggles when he takes your flying hand in his, taking advantage by intertwining your fingers together. “What are you doing?” your cheeks probably hurt from all the smiling, you don’t know, you think your nerves are numb.

“Can’t a guy hold his twin flame, platonic best friend’s hand?”

Skinship was not an unfamiliar with Beomgyu—he was always a naturally clingy guy. You figured when the first ever official lunch hangout you’ve had with the boy and a few of your other friends, had included a lot of random footsie.

You didn’t even know him that well in high school. Who plays footsie with an acquaintance? Choi Beomgyu, that’s who. Yet even after some reluctance that day, you end up letting him have his childish, sort of endearing fun.

Though this was all but childish, the innocently mischievous twinkle of a scrawny teenage boy had been long gone, instead replaced by the most attractive man’s hungry, lust filled gaze. “Who told you to look so sexy today?”

The theme was Angel & Devil—to match with Beomgyu, you insisted on giving him the angel outfit, and you the costume of a devil. Matching was always the fun part of these parties. “Only today?” you drawl, making an exaggerated sultry trail with your finger on his chest.

“God, shut up, you know you’re always hot,” You don’t expect the seriousness of his tone, especially when you were just teasing, but he snakes his hand around your waist, pushing you further into his body, your tits suffocatingly pressed against his chest.

You do not expect the slight squeeze to your ass, your eyes shooting particularly wide, blood rushing up to trickle your cheeks. “But I like it when you’re a little devil, makes you so sexy and alluring.”

His face buried into your neck again, this time not missing the chance of taking a deep inhale. Beomgyu could stay like this forever, filling his lungs with you, and only you. “Still can’t believe I had my hands off you for so long little devil.” Your eyes flutter shut, taking quick breaths as he moves his soft lips to your neck, wet kisses with a slip of teeth nibbling just slightly to tease, planning on coloring you with all the pretty purple hues.

And you’re sure he was well on his way until you sober up at the abrupt change in the DJ’s track.

“Beomgyu, not—not now, we’re in public.” And surrounded by tons of people that you’re either friends with or know. That broke one of the most important pillars of your agreement—to keep the fuck buddies ‘thing’ a secret.

You don’t expect the speed of his instant pull away when processing your words, blinking his pretty lashes and the tipsiness away—his doe eyes are too much of a weakness, the little furrow of his brows something you desperately want to kiss and smoothen out. “Oh. Oh yeah. Sorry.” he scratches the back of his neck, genuinely apologetic.

And eats away at you. You know Beomgyu well—he hates keeping things secret, he’s the type of person to flaunt relationships all over his feed in that lovesick puppy way that most women could only dream of having—but you weren’t dating. And that was the boundary set.

You didn’t ask him to pull away completely though, but here you were, awkwardly as distanced as you could be in the middle of a rager with sweaty college students rubbing their bodies against each other. As gross as that was, you zero’d in on something less of a given: the fact that you’ve never felt this way with Beomgyu. Ever. It was like you were starring in the most awkward coming of age indie movie, y’know, without the crazy scenery and cinematography.

And more often than not, you find that these occurance of realisations, become more and more frequent. You feel things you’ve never felt a certain way with Beomgyu. Which only brought you to realize something else; Beomgyu was now a changing variable in your life and you’re not entirely sure how to handle that.

1K notes · View notes

mins-fins · 2 months

Text

heart attack

&&. there's something hilarious about the beautiful doctor there to help with your terrible habits.

pairing: qian kun x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mentions of overworking, mentions of passing out & hospitalization

word count: 0.9k

notes: this….. THISSS💔💔💔 this drabble was very inspired by the thai movie heart attack (a movie that has no right being as cute as it is) kun fits the part so well because first.. doctor kun, and second.. kun is so amazing, i love kun, we all fucking love kun 😿 this is a early bday gift for user junjiie bc we all know he loves kun (happy early bday pookie ily) this is insanely self indulgent because i have slept less than three hours in these past five days and have been working myself to shit because.. med school!! yayyyyyyy!! im so excited!! (is not excited)

"so what's the matter with you?"

the usual roughness that would lace the voice of a medical professional is replaced by the softness you would feel of pillows, you glance up, meeting the eyes of the beautiful man before you. you stare, forgetting where you are for a moment, the exhaustion rendering you speechless.

but it's a whisper in your head that reminds you of where you are, and you flinch. "oh— i um.. there's these rashes appearing on my body".

"okay" he mutters, clicking his tongue and pen in unison. "and where exactly?"

"my arms, my neck.." he hums, pulling up your sleeve to check out what you told him. "also there are some on my fingers".

he bites into his inner cheek, much too close for the sake of your heart. he then glances up, examining your face through his glasses. "you haven't been getting any sleep" he snaps his fingers in your direction, letting go of you and turning back to his computer.

you respond with a dry chuckle, too tired to even try to add emotion. "and you know that how?"

"i can see it in your eyes, those dark circles aren't doing you justice" he sucks his teeth as he types out something. "what's your occupation?"

it isn't strange that he's curious, just answer the question.

you shake your head, mind all over the place. "i work in graphic design".

"ohhh" he doesn't exactly seem surprised. "freelance?"

you nod.

his eyebrows join together. "how does an editing job have you so tired?"

you let out a breath, too exhausted to allow a laugh. "it's a twenty four hour thing, if i'm awake at all times i function better".

"you're barely functioning now".

"well you're a doctor, you always tell people the obvious" you sigh, closing your eyes to try and recollect the many hours of sleep you lost. "i'm sure you aren't any better than me.."

"i'd be inclined to disagree".

you open one eye, staring at the pretty doctor who types away on his computer, catching you in his peripheral vision. (eyes you don't notice due to your lethargy making you less disposed to).

"when was the last time you slept?"

your throat goes dry, your senses reduced to the clear fatigue. you could simply lie, how would he even know? there's no way dr. qian is a psychic, that would be freaky, you're sure it would be nightmarish if that were the case.

there's an indecipherable glimmer in his eye, one that would scare you in regular circumstances where you were fully awake. it's as if he knows you're going to lie, your attempt at fib crawls down your throat before it can even escape your lips. "five days ago".

his reaction is serene, much too calm for your situation. "five days ago.. and how many hours did you sleep?"

your brain is foggy, you almost blurt the number 'six', but that's simply your default response when people ask. why would you ever lie to a doctor?..and the cute doctor especially?

you pause at the wave of your thoughts. what do you mean he's cute?

it's simply common sense, y/n. don't you like smart guys?

you would probably attribute it to your terrible sleep deprivation if it weren't true. you can't deny that the man before you is simply so attractive it should be illegal, he's absolutely gorgeous, how can a regular doctor be so beautiful? you might fall over, not from your lack of sleep, but from the eyes of the man who stares with such care.

"like.. three?"

your voice scratches as you recall the last time you 'slept', he hums, clicking his pen as he notes the information down. he turns in his rolling chair, scooting closer to you. "you mind if i see your hands?"

you can't even put up a fight, you're just about to give into your own exhaustion. you put your hands out for him, and dr. qian takes your hands in his own, examining the rashes which litter your fingers. he's close, so close, you can admire each of his facial features with amazing certainty. everything about him is beautiful, his cheeks, his eyes, the curves of his lips, it's all beautiful, it should be a crime for such a man to exist.

"that's an issue.. have you taken medication for sleep before?" you shake your head, and his fingers slip from yours.

"alright.. i'm going to put you on doxylamine" he mumbles, getting back to noting down your state. you begin scratching at the rashes on your fingers, and he snaps: "don't scratch it".

you move your hands apart rather quickly, his tone of voice intimidating you enough that you pause. he's much too convincing.

he points at you. "tonight, and this next month onward, you sleep before nine o'clock every single day".

you uncharacteristically snicker. "do you sleep before nine o'clock every single day?"

he raises an eyebrow, amused by the question. "i'm the doctor, i know best".

"of course".

"you'll end up dead if you keep going at this rate, take your medication, sleep before nine every day, then check back in with me next month".

"if i'm not available, can i reschedule?"

the question is simply meant to be comedic, you're just about to pass out, trying to sneak in a last minute joke before having to leave the office of the cute doctor. he leans his arm against the desk, smiling at you. "don't reschedule, i want to see you".

and you clearly weren't expecting those words, because your cheeks flare up.

see y/n? you do like smart guys.

#qian kun #kun #wayv #nct #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #wayv drabbles #nct x reader #wayv x reader #kun imagines #qian kun x reader #kun x reader #𑁍 ࣪˖ 𓂃 isa's works!

56 notes · View notes

therandomficwriter · 7 months

Text

Crossing All The Lines

Who: Aaron Hotchner

What: Reader has feelings for Aaron and dances around them with quick glances when you think he’s not looking. Then reader gets hurt and accidentally confesses in the heat of the moment.

Request: Nope

Warnings: Typical canon criminal minds violence, talks of getting shot, blood, Slight age gap but otherwise age isn’t mentioned, etc. (Let me know if I missed anything!)

A/n: I know its been forever since I've written anything but I’m back into my criminal minds binge and currently have Hotch brain rot so yeah,,, n e ways please feel free to enjoy! A/n 2: Ngl I've been working on this one since June of 2023 and barely finished it now (Feb. 2024) so this was a loooooong wip but besides that i really hope you guys like it!

You guys have been going at it for hours now. The sun had set long ago and many of the officers have gone home, the new shift well settled into their stations.

Despite the amount of time you and the team had spent trying to get to the bottom of the unsub’s reasoning, which would bring you guys one step closer to finding out who it might be, you are no closer to figuring it out now than this morning.

Reid is going off on another one of his tangents and you are trying desperately to pay attention and keep your mind from wandering, the late hour not helping you much.

Everyone is in a different form of concentration but, none the less, in a similar state of exhaustion. Morgan is slouched in his chair, head in his hand, Rossi on his fourth, maybe fifth, cup of coffee, but there’s one person you can’t help but let your eyes wander towards.

Hotch stands at the head of the table, arms crossed on his chest, tiredness prominent in his features. Your eyes follow him as he moves across the room, removing his suit jacket and discarding it onto a chair. Moving back to his original spot, he rolls his sleeves slightly up to rest upon his forearms, then loosens his tie ever so slightly.

He leans over the table and opens his mouth to begin talking but, if you are being honest, not a single word is heard by you. Your eyes stay glued to his arm, his muscles flexing slightly from the way he is gripping the edge of the table.

You try to pay attention, really you do, but it is no use. Your sleep deprived brain is not allowing you to focus on anything but the man in front of you. If you are being honest, you have grown feelings for him but you don’t dare act on them. I mean how can you blame yourself? There is just so much you admire about him, you can possibly go on for hours just listing off the reasons.

As your mind seems to drift off, you don’t seem to notice Hotch has caught on to what you were doing.

Feeling eyes on him, he glances around the room and soon catches your eye. Upon meeting his eyes, yours slightly widen and you quickly look down, willing your face to not heat up at being caught with your shameless stares. You swear at yourself thinking if he brings it up you’d blame it on the late hour and lack of proper sleep.

Unknown to you Hotch’s lips quirk up, amused at your reaction to being caught, chuckling softly to himself. He looks around the room once again, taking note of the tired faces of his team and decides to speak up.

“All right team, let’s call it a night. We’ll pick this back up in the morning when we’re all rested. Maybe then we will be able to think about this more clearly.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, the team quickly gathers their belongings and heads out of the station towards their shared vehicles.

The ride back to the hotel was uneventful as everyone split off into groups between the two SUVs. You opted to ride with Hotch and Rossi taking advantage of their silent personas, definitely not because you favored the first of the two.

Taking your place behind the passenger seat, you quickly got as comfortable as possible on your way back to the hotel. Usually you would try to fill in the silence with different topics varying from the case you guys were currently investigating to what book you were reading at the moment, but right now you could barely form coherent sentences with your sleep deprived mind.

You could feel yourself slowly drifting off, the smooth ride and the sound of the car moving along the street help bring you into a deep slumber.

Unbeknownst to you a pair of eyes traveled across your sleeping form, glancing back and forth between you and the road. A small sigh escapes his mouth as he notices your breathing even out.

Hearing someone clear their throat, Hotch casts his eyes toward the passenger seat where Rossi is sitting with a knowing look on his face. His eyes turn back to the road.

"Dave..." he says quietly, tone coming out as a warning.

Rossi raises his hands in defense, keeping his voice down as well "I didn't say anything."

"I know that look. You have something you want to say," Hotch mutters, face annoyed.

"Aaron in know that look on your face. How long are you planning on keeping her in the dark? You deserve to be happy and I can tell she is the reason your mood has improved a lot lately," Rossi keeps his voice low as to not wake you up.

Hotch moves his eyes towards you one more time, taking in your features, he notices the slightest content smile on your face not having a worry in the world while sleeping. He lets out a deep sigh eyes leaving your figure and focusing completely on the road.

"Because I am her boss and she is my subordinate. I can not cross that line even if i wanted to. I can only imagine what the higher ups would say if they found out."

"Besides she deserves someone better, someone closer to her age, someone her could provide her with everything she could want or need. Why would she want someone like me," he finished off.

Rossi shook his head, "You, my friend, are completely clueless. How could she not want to be with you? Have you seen the way she looks at you? And don't give me that B.S. about your status as her boss, as if that matters. Trust me Aaron, that girl would follow you through hell and back if you asked her and i know you would do just the same."

Hotch let Rossi's words sink in. He kept his head forward, choosing not to reply in order to completely shut down this conversation, not wanting to get his hopes up too high.

Luckily the hotel quickly came into view and Hotch felt himself relax slightly. As soon as the suvs were parked everyone got off and split up and made their separate ways into their hotel rooms. Getting off, Hotch made his way to the back passanger side to wake you and send you off to sleep in your room.

He got to his own room, going through his normal night time routine before slipping into bed. Despite the late hour and lack of proper sleep the night before, his mind seemed to run non stop. It wasn't the unresolved case or fact that the unsubs motive was hard to pinpoint.

No, his mind seemed to be full of you. The conversation with Rossi seemed to have kickstarted his thoughts into a spiral. Eventually he drifted off to sleep his final thought of you and what he believes could never be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eventually you and the team had finally managed to find the link between the victims and his motive became clear. Richard Cornwall, a local who lives in the outskirts of town on his family ranch had been taking the victims and making them weaken enough to use in his own version of "hunting."

The evidence pointed to you all that he was a narcissist that believed he was too good at hunting the local game that it no longer was fun to him. So he thought that using real people would provide more of a challenge, that way he could really prove he was the best and what he did.

Currently on route to the Cornwall family ranch, y'all prepared yourselves. It was common knowledge that he was a hunter so you knew he had to have a surplus of weapons as well as being on the look out for and traps he might have left around the property.

Parking the suvs in front of the main house, you split up to survey the property looking for Cornwall and the latest person he had kidnapped.

While the rest of the team searched the two story house, you, Hotch, and Reid had taken the left side of the property going straight towards the barn, stalls, and the field. You noticed a deer blind a little ways away in the field making a mental note to take a sweep of it after checking out the barn.

After clearing the stalls, you guys made your way though the barn with no signs of Cornwall or the victim. Reid noticed a corner of the barn that seemed to be where he left the vicitms to bleed out. The deep red was splattered on the walls and completely covered the floor. Hotch took note of it saying he would get forensics to take samples of it.

As you guys began to exit the barn after clearing it you turned your head towards Hotch and Reid to tell them about the structure you saw in the middle of the field. As soon as you opened your mouth, the sound of a gun shot rang though the air.

You were down within a second, the shot hitting you right in your left shoulder causing you to let out a scream, your other hand reaching out to hold onto the wound. You began to feel lightheaded, the blood coming from your shoulder seemed to be never ending.

Hotch and Reid quickly crouched down taking cover in the barn as another shot rang out. They each grabbed one of your arms pulling you inside to safety with them. The yell you let out was worse than anything Hotch had heard, he could only imagine the pain you were feeling right now.

He radioed the rest of the team and the rest of the officers to let them know to be on the lookout notifying them you were currently down. They only know the general direction the shot came from, not too sure where Cornwall was.

"The blind" you let out weakly.

Reid spotted the deer blind a little ways out in the field and let everyone else know the location so they could proceed with caution.

You on the other hand, felt like you would pass out any second now. You felt like you were on fire, your shoulder growing heavier by the second. Soon your vision started getting spotty, white dots littered your sight as you tried to blink them away, tears streamed down your face from the pain.

Hotch turned to look at you to make sure you were alright but quickly noticed the flushed look on your face, your lips were pale, a sign you were soon to faint.

"Hey, L/N, look at me. You need to stay awake for me." he urged, shaking your head a bit to stimulate you.

The sound of his voice was coming in and out, growing louder then getting harder to hear, your ears no longer wanting to work. You blinked a bit trying to focus on him and what he was currently saying to you.

"Y/N, you're losing a lot of blood, they might have to do a blood transfusion at the hospital," he ushers out, desperation evident in his voice, "What is your type?"

In your current state, you tried hard to process what he was asking you. You vision was quickly growing worse and it was getting harder to hear him. You let out the first thing that came to your mind.

"You."

The last thing you heard was JJ's voice over the coms informing they had got unsub in custody and finally found the last victim who was luckily alive. Black soon consumed your vision and you were out like a light.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The feeling of the ground rumbling beneath you was the first hint to you that you were slowly gaining consciousness.

Soon the low sounds of a siren could be heard, slightly muffled to you. You tried desperately to open your eyes but you couldn’t find the strength. But you could feel a weight in your hand and you tried to flex your hand, your fingers twitching slightly.

At that you could have sworn you heard what sounded like your name. You tried to focus your hearing a bit more.

“Y/N,” you heard a man say.

You know that voice. You’ve heard it before somewhere. The sound of it seemed to make you calmer. At the sound of his voice again you tried once more to open your eyes.

A blinding light above you is the first thing you see, yet everything still seemed to be foggy. You glance at you surroundings, your eyes barely open a crack. That is when you see him.

He looked absolutely ethereal, you could’ve sworn he was an angel here on earth. The bright glow from the lights casted a halo around him. But there’s no way he could be here right now. He opens his mouth to speak again.

“Y/N, are you alright? Do you need anything? We are heading to the hospital right now, we should be there any moment.”

You stared at him for what seemed like forever just taking him in. His sentence went in one ear and out the other, as if he never said anything to begin with, as if he wasn’t even then, a mere figment of your imagination. You couldn’t wrap your head around what was going on or where you were. The only thing you could say was what you were currently thinking.

“I dream of you so often, I don’t know if you’re even real.”

And with that you felt yourself slowly slipping back into unconsciousness. The sound of that man’s voice imbedded deep in your mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A low beeping lulled you out of your unconscious state. Your eyelids felt heavy, as if they were made of concrete, not allowing you to open them just yet. You stayed there unmoving, trying to get accustomed to your surroundings, willing yourself to try and feel anything around you.

You could feel the soft pillow underneath your head and the, somewhat, stiff bed underneath you. In your head, you knew your were laying in a bed somewhere, but for the life of you, you could not recall a single thing that happened to you or where you could possibly be at this moment.

Racking your brain, you tried desperately to remember what was going on. The last thing you remembered was that you and the team had a case you were working on. Where was it? Oh, right, you guys were currently in Texas. The unsub was a fisherman? No, wait, a hunter.

As you started to recall more and more of the case it all started to come back to you. You, Hotch, and Reid were searching the barn. That's right, you were right on his trail and then... he shot you.

'Wait Hotch, Reid, are they alright?'

Your eyes suddenly shot open at the thought of your friends hurt. Wincing at the sudden bright light around you, you blinking trying to get used to the sight around you.

At the same time, all your senses rushed back to you all at once. you could hear that constant beeping again but this time a little louder. Looking towards your right, you noticed the heart monitor displaying your heart rate. You stared at it for a little bit and watched the line move at a rhythmic pace before you realized that your left hand felt a bit heavier that usual.

Your fingers twitched, slowly flexing, trying to grasp at what was resting in your hand. You turn your head slightly, glancing down at your hand, only to notice another hand placed over yours.

Eyes widening at the slight, you move them from the hand, up the arm and towards the person it belonged to. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight before you.

In the chair next to you, Hotch was leaned back into the chair. His left arm was slung over his abdomen and his right arm was stretched out resting on the side of your hospital bed, hand intwined with yours.

He look so peaceful in his sleep, which was a stark contrast to his usual stoic expression, despite the slight furrow in his brows. How he managed to look so comfortable in that hard plastic chair was beyond you, but you were sure that the exhaustion of the events the night before finally caught up to him.

You watched him for a while, your heart strings pulling at the thought of him so worried about you that he actually slept in that uncomfortable chair all night when he had a nice warm bed back at the hotel you guys were staying at.

The sounds of someone clearing their throat pulled you from your thoughts, as you glance towards the doorway where the sound came from. Rossi stood there leaning against the door frame, a knowing smile gracing his features.

Feeling the heat rise to your face, your eyes dart away from Rossi and down at the blankets the covered you. David knew of the feelings you harbored towards the man to your left, having caught you staring at him a little longer that usual a couple of times. He soon got the truth out of you after a night of drinking, to which you spilled your heart out to the older man in hopes of getting advice from someone that knew Hotch inside and out.

"How you feeling kiddo?"

Hearing his question spoken softly, you glance back up at him and clear your throat feeling it dry from not speaking for hours on end.

"Alright. Just a little sore I guess," you rasp out quietly.

He raises his eyebrow, "A little? Kid you got shot with a rifle, I don't blame you if you said you it hurts like hell, which I'm pretty sure it does."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," you chuckle softly at his words before glancing back down.

You can't help but let your eyes travel back to where your hand was intwined with Hotch's, letting out a little sigh. Rossi's eyes follow yours, then travel up to where his friend slept soundly.

"You know," he starts with a small smile, "he was really worried about you kid. He's been with you since the ambulance pulled up. He refused to leave your side and even rode with you the whole way over here. We even had a hard time trying to get him to go shower or even change. He insisted that he had to be here when you woke up."

You shift your focus up to Hotch's face, taking in the words Rossi was saying, heart melting at the thought. Your mind raced at the implications of what this all meant but you quickly shut them down, not wanting to get your hopes up.

"I'm sure he would've been the same if it were any one of us," you replied, shoulders slumping a bit at the thought.

David rolled his eyes at your words, "You know what I mean Y/N. Sure he would've been worried if it happened to any of us, but I doubt he would be sleeping if those god awful chairs all night if it wasn't for you."

At that you could feel the hand in yours start to twitch, Hotch moving slightly as he began to wake up. Your breath caught in your throat as his eyes started to flutter open. The first thing Aaron saw as he fully woke up was Rossi standing in the doorway staring right at him.

"Dave? What are you doing here?"

Rossi chuckles softly, shaking his head as he pushes himself away from the door frame to stand up straight.

"Oh nothing, figured I should probably go get a bite to eat and maybe a cup of coffee. It seems like you guys have a lot to talk about," he finishes, nudging his head in your direction.

The look of confusion quickly washes away from Hotch's face as his head snaps in your direction. He takes in the sight of you wide awake, a slight flush on your cheeks that he assumes is because of your injury. He could feel your hand flutter underneath his as he glances down at it. The sight of your hand wrapped with his causes his heart to skip a beat, the moment it resumes he swears he can hear it pounding in his ears.

Rossi clears his throat once more gaining the attention of the two, "Well I better be off, let me know if either of you want something. I hope you feel better kiddo."

You let out a small 'thank you' and he smiles at you then sends Aaron a knowing glance when you aren't looking before turning and making his way out. You both sat there in silence, not knowing what to say to each other.

"How are you feeling?" Hotch finally asks, breaking the silence between you.

"Honestly, I've been better," you let out a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension, before turning solum again remembering your current state.

"I'm sorry for worrying you. I should've know better, if only I-"

Hotch cuts you off with a reassuring squeeze to your hand.

"Don't," he says firmly, "Don't you ever blame yourself for something that is out of your control. You did all you could and your observations helped us catch the unsub and the last victim was found alive."

"I know, but I just feel bad cause you had to sleep on that," you say, gesturing towards the chair he was sitting on.

He lips quirk up ever so slightly, "Don't worry about it, I should be used to it now because of all the late nights I spend at the office. Besides, I wanted to. I wouldn't do this for just anyone," he says, starting to gain the courage to tell you what is on his mind.

"Hotch-" you start, only to be cut off by him.

"Wait, just let me say this," he holds his hand up. you nod encouraging him to continue.

"Y/N, you are the bravest person I know, not to mention the most caring and thoughtful. You always tend to put others first, but are still able to stand up for yourself and voice your needs. I admire so much about you that I could possibly go on forever. What made me fall for you is beyond me, but I know what I'm feeling is real. I kept telling myself that I shouldn't love you, that I shouldn't cross that boundry, but its not as simple as it sounds. No matter how hard I tried, you made me fall harder and faster without doing much," he sighed, "Even if you don't feel the same, i just needed to tell you."

At the end of his speech your eyes were shining with unshed tears. Never have you heard anything as sweet and poetic as that. You could feel every one of his words in your soul as if he was speaking right to it. He had put his heart on his sleeve for you and you thought it was only fair you did the same.

"Aaron, when I first met you I thought you were just a cold, stoic, blunt man,"

Hotch could've sworn he felt his heart ache at the words leaving your mouth, but that soon changed as you continued.

"But, then I met you and learn a lot about you. You actually had a similar sense of humor as me and know how to dish out a joke as well as take one. Your wit is one of the things that surprised me the most about you. Not to mention that you protect the ones you care about with your life. You come off as nonchalant when in fact you care so much about each and every one of us on this team. And despite what you think, you're the best dad Jack could ever ask for. You really are his hero and I don't blame him. You say you admire me but, oh boy, you have no idea how much about you I cherish and appreciate."

"At first I thought it was nothing more than just a silly little crush, but it turned into so much more than that. I couldn't stop thinking about you no matter how hard I tried, it happened without me even realizing it. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up in the morning and the last thought I have before I drift off to sleep at night, its like you're all that's in my mind. My heart has yearned for you longer than I knew it myself and now that I know that its not just me, I'm willing to cross that line as long as you're there with me," you finished giving his hand a loving squeeze.

Aaron stared at you with loving eyes and you could've sworn your heart stopped at the sight. You looked at him shyly with the newfound revelation of your feelings towards each other being mutual. You could feel yourself slowly leaning towards him and him doing just the same.

As the distance between you grew shorter and shorter, you both were stealing glances at each others' lips. Just as you were about to close the distance, a sharp pain shot right through your shoulder causing you to wince and pull back.

Hotch looked at you with worry helping you lean back into the hospital bed. His eyes scanned your face for any traces of discomfort as you got situated back into place. Your eyes met as if he was ask you a silent question, you nodded letting him know you were fine as he sighed in relief.

Chuckling a bit a the situation, he shook his head slightly before leaning down and placing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

"Let's wait till you get out of here for that," he smirks, "Besides I need to treat you out to a nice dinner before we could have some dessert" he finished with a swift kiss to the knuckles of your hand that was still interlocked with his.

You couldn't help the heat that quickly rose to your face at his comment. Never, did you think Hotch could be that smooth. Rolling your eyes, you gently slap his arm causing him to laugh softly.

"You're so corny."

"Well you better get used to it cause you're stuck with me now," he replies with a smile.

You shake your head with a giggle, "Can I take that back?"

"Nope," he says, smile growing wider as a mischievous look glints in his eyes, "Besides you said I'm just your type."

The memory of what he was talking about quickly floods into your mind.

Your face flushes a deep shade of embarrassment and you quickly cover your face with your hands, "Oh my god!"

A/n: I really hope you guys liked it! It took me quite a bit to write but i really love the way it came out! I honestly think this is probably my favorite one I've written so far! Just to let y'all know i do have quite a bit planned out so be on the lookout for that and hopefully I'll be able to put out little thing here and there! Once again if y'all want to be added to the tag list the link is here ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ and just fill it out for whatever you want to be tagged for and if you don't know what I write for just checkout my masterlist or leave and ask and I will reply as soon as i can get to it!

Taglist: @uraveragegorewhore @drayshadow @wlfstxr @nikkitc0703 *The ones in red are the ones I couldn't tag so if you want to be added again or removed just fill out the form or comment on here!*

#criminal minds imagine #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner imagine #hotch imagine #thomas gibson #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction

103 notes · View notes