#how I truly feel about him is in the second book | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

neocrias · 1 month ago

Text

Making out with svt

warnings: descriptions; headcanons; gn (mostly) reader self insert; you might find it a little kinky at some point;

pairings: svt x gn reader

gender/aus: fluff; slightly suggestive;

Scoups

The whole night, Seungcheol tried to focus on dinner, the conversation, and the sophisticated atmosphere of the restaurant. But it was impossible. From the moment you appeared in front of him, wearing that outfit that hugged your body in a way that seemed tailor-made to tease him, nothing else mattered. His dark gaze kept falling on you every second, his jaw clenching every time you moved in a way that made it impossible to ignore the effect you had on him.

On the way home, the tension between you was palpable. The city passed unnoticed through the car windows while the only thing that truly mattered to Seungcheol was the sensation of your skin under his palm. His large hand rested firmly on your thigh, his thumb tracing lazy circles, occasionally pressing as if testing your patience as if making it clear what was coming next.

When he finally parked in front of your house, he got out of the car first. The click of the door opening echoed in the stillness of the night as he moved around, his calm, calculated movements with that dominant presence that made your breath hitch before he even touched you.

Seungcheol extended his hand, helping you out of the car, his eyes never leaving yours. As soon as you were standing, he shut the door behind you—and before you could even process the movement, his body was already pressed against yours on the car.

The impact was gentle but definitive. One of his hands found your waist, pulling you against him, while the other cupped the side of your face. And then, without hesitation, he took your lips.

The kiss was fierce, filled with everything he’d been holding back the whole night. Seungcheol wasn’t one for half-measures, and there, against the car, under the dim streetlight, he made that clear. His lips were demanding against yours, his tongue exploring your mouth without rushing, as if savoring every second, as if he’d been waiting for this for far too long.

When he felt you melt under his touch, the need for more took over. Without effort, one of his hands slid down the side of your body until it found your thigh, and in one swift move, he lifted it, pressing it against his waist. The contrast between the cold metal of the car and the heat of his body made a shiver run up your spine.

Dressed entirely in black, Seungcheol looked even more imposing. The dark shirt clung to his body, accentuating every defined muscle, and the strength with which he held you against him made it impossible to ignore how badly he wanted this.

The kiss didn’t slow down. Seungcheol deepened every movement, exploring, dominating, as if his intention was to etch the feeling into every cell of your body. The firm hand holding your leg against him, his chest rising and falling against yours, the muffled sound of heavy breathing between kisses – all contributing to the electricity that hung in the air.

When he finally broke the kiss, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and gleaming with desire, he smiled crookedly.

— I should’ve brought you home earlier... — He murmured, his voice rough.

But the way he pressed his body against yours afterward made it clear that the night was far from over.

Jeonghan

The smell of your parents' house was familiar, a mix of fresh coffee and old wood that brought back childhood memories. Lunch had been peaceful, and Jeonghan, with his charming ways, had effortlessly won over your parents. He laughed at the stories they told about you as a child, his eyes gleaming with that mischievous interest only he could have.

After eating, you decided to give him a tour of the house. You walked through the rooms, stopping at every detail that was part of your history—the mark on the living room wall where you used to measure your height as a kid, the bookshelf filled with old books, the garden where you used to play. But it was in your bedroom that the tour truly ended.

The space felt smaller now, but it still carried your essence. Jeonghan was immediately distracted by the old photos scattered around, picking one up with an amused smile.

— Look at you here, such a cutie! — He laughed, holding a picture of you as a little kid. — Who would’ve thought that this innocent little face would grow up to be so bossy?

You rolled your eyes, throwing yourself onto the old bed with a sigh. The mattress creaked slightly under your weight, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting nostalgia wash over you. But before you could fully relax, you felt an added weight on top of you.

You opened your eyes only to find Jeonghan sitting on your lap, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as his fingers pinned your wrists against the mattress.

— Jeonghan… — You murmured, your heart racing.

— Yes? — He tilted his head, feigning innocence, but the playful glint in his eyes betrayed his true intentions.

— My parents are in the next room.

He smiled even more, leaning down until his lips barely brushed against yours, teasing.

— And? — His voice came out low, almost a whisper. — I don’t plan on making any noise.

And then, he kissed you.

The first kiss was slow, teasing, as if he wanted to test the limits of the situation. Jeonghan’s lips were warm and soft against yours, and the way he moved—always in control, always knowing exactly what to do – made your entire body react instantly.

But he didn’t stop there.

Jeonghan was a game of cat and mouse, and he loved playing with you. Every time you tried to catch your breath, he captured your lips again, stealing quick kisses, smiling against your mouth, his fingers lazily tracing your face, then trailing down to your waist, where he held you with deceptive gentleness.

The bed creaked softly beneath the subtle movements, and every time you tried to protest, he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his lips molding to yours with more intensity.

Your fingers clenched around his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. The way he dominated the moment, the way he whispered something between kisses just to tease you, made every cell in your body vibrate with anticipation.

And when he finally pulled away, just enough to look into your eyes, the satisfied smile on his lips made it clear that he knew exactly what he was doing.

— See? — He whispered, his thumb slowly brushing over your lower lip. — Not a single sound.

But his eyes said something else. He was just getting started.

Joshua

The elevator doors close smoothly, and you lean against the wall, holding Joshua's hand, watching him with a suspicious look. You two had just returned from a date, and throughout the entire night, Joshua had behaved better than expected—no pranks, no teasing comments.

He's been too quiet, which is never a good sign.

Then, before the elevator even ascends a single floor, he presses a hidden button on the panel. The lights flicker, the elevator gives a slight jolt, and… stops.

— Oh, no… — Joshua murmurs, covering his mouth with an exaggerated expression of surprise. — Looks like we’re stuck.

Your eyes widen. — What?!

— Yeah, it happened again… These elevators are a bit unstable, you know?

Suspicion hits immediately.

— Joshua. What did you do?

He tilts his head, eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

— Me? Nothing. — But the mischievous smile gives everything away.

You let out an exasperated sigh and reach for the emergency button, but he moves fast. Before you can even touch the panel, Joshua steps closer and cups your face with both hands, his palms covering your cheeks, his long, warm fingers pressing into your skin.

— Hey, hey, what’s the rush? — He murmurs, his voice low and lazy, his playful gaze shifting into something more intense. — Maybe it’s a sign from fate.

Your heart jumps when he leans in slowly, his warm breath grazing your lips before he finally captures them with his own.

The kiss starts as a tease – just like him. Joshua’s lips move against yours deliberately, savoring, testing, as if he’s relishing your reaction. But as you respond, he deepens it, making it slower, more consuming, his tongue sliding against yours in a heated, intoxicating touch.

He smiles against your lips the moment he feels you melt in his arms, giving in to the kiss, your fingers dragging over the nape of his neck with growing need. One of his hands glides to your waist, circling it and pulling you closer, while the other discreetly moves behind you. His fingers find the right button, and without you even noticing, he presses it.

Suddenly, the elevator starts moving again.

You pull back with a start, blinking in surprise. — Wait…

Joshua lets out a low, satisfied chuckle.

— Oops. Guess it’s working again. — He shrugs as if he hadn’t just tricked you once more.

— You…!

He grins like he’s having way too much fun, his thumb brushing lightly over your swollen lips. — Don’t look at me like that. You liked it.

The worst part? He’s right.

Jun

The muffled sound of the audience echoed through the backstage hallways, and you could hardly believe you were there, accompanying Jun to yet another one of the group’s shows. He seemed calm, but there was something in his eyes—a mischievous glint you couldn’t quite decipher.

— Let’s go grab some water — he said suddenly, his voice casual.

You didn’t find it strange. Jun was the kind of person everyone adored—sweet and attentive to those around him—and he hated being away from you when you had a day to be together, so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. None of the members even glanced in your direction, too busy with their own preparations. So, without questioning, you followed him down the hallways.

It happened too fast. Before you even realized it, Jun pushed open the door of an empty dressing room and, in one swift motion, pulled you inside. The soft click of the door closing sounded louder than it should have.

— Jun-?

Your voice was cut off as he leaned against the wall and pulled you against him, your bodies colliding in the narrow space. He smirked, a malicious glint in his eyes. — I didn’t scare you, did I?

His expression softened into feigned innocence, but his tone betrayed his true intentions.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked nothing like the adorable Jun everyone knew—here, alone with you, there was something else, something undeniably provocative.

The question lingered in the air, but before you could respond, Jun slid one of his hands down your waist, giving a light squeeze. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and that cocky smile still hadn’t left his lips.

And then, he leaned in closer, so close that you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

— We’ve got a few minutes… — he murmured, the tip of his nose grazing your jawline.

— Yeah? — you asked, wrapping your arm around his shoulders and tilting up to capture his lips in a slow, restrained kiss. One that Jun wasted no time deepening as he held you by the waist with one arm, while his other hand tangled into the hair at the nape of your neck.

He used his grip on your hair to position you exactly how he wanted, making the kiss more comfortable for him—and better for you. He pulled you closer by the hips, leaving one leg between yours, your bodies pressed together enough to feel the rise and fall of each breath.

Outside, the show was about to begin. But at that moment, nothing else seemed to matter except the way Jun looked at you—and what he wanted to do with those stolen minutes.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo was off today and decided to spend his free day playing the game he had been waiting for over the past two months. He was sitting comfortably in his gaming chair, the room lit faintly by a soft yellow LED light.

The sound of the keyboard clicks filled the air, and the soft light of the late afternoon illuminated the space. Since the beginning of the afternoon, Wonwoo had been immersed in the game, as if nothing else in the world mattered. You watched him for a moment, respecting the fact that he needed this time for himself after working so much. However, it was already night, and the longing for his touch, for his presence, started to weigh on you.

You quietly approached, leaning against his back. Your hands, soft and delicate, began massaging his shoulders, feeling the tension accumulated there. Wonwoo let out a slight sigh of pleasure but kept his focus on the game, as if trying not to get distracted. But it was impossible not to notice the touch of your presence and the warmth of your proximity.

After a few seconds, he tilted his head back, his eyes meeting yours. His smile was gentle but full of something you recognized well: desire, affection, and a slight complicity.

Without hesitation, you moved closer and, with a quick motion, kissed him in the Spider-Man and Mary Jane style, your lips meeting gently as he was still leaning back. The kiss was soft, gentle, and even a bit playful, but full of undeniable chemistry.

Fortunately, that wasn’t enough for Wonwoo – and even less so for you. He took control, spinning the chair to face you without missing a beat, and with one firm hand, placed it behind your thigh, slowly pulling you onto his lap.

The movement was smooth, but full of intention. You settled there, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and the world around you seemed to fade away. He was closer now, and the distance between the two of you seemed to vanish completely.

The kiss quickly escalated, going from something gentle and playful to pure need and desire. Wonwoo held your waist, pressing you down against him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, instinctively arching your back.

— Your game... — You murmured between kisses and caresses.

Wonwoo simply hummed, not paying attention to your words – he had better things to focus on: marking the length of your neck and shoulders. The sound of battle filled the space between the two of you's panting breaths. The game long forgotten.

The night was just beginning, but you knew that, beside him, time would just be a word.

Hoshi

The office was finally silent. After hours immersed in the group's new project, you and Hoshi were the last to leave. He stretched, intertwining his fingers above his head before casting a casual glance in your direction.

— Ready to go? — He asked, already walking ahead.

— Always. — you replied, grabbing your bag and following him down the hallway.

Hoshi pressed the elevator button, but when the doors opened, he suddenly made a face as if he had just remembered something important.

— Oh, wait... I think we'd better take the stairs. I heard the elevator has been acting up lately. — He scratched the back of his neck, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, not buying his excuse but also not protesting as he started heading toward the stairwell. Hoshi smiled innocently and began descending, still leading the way. You kept following him until, two floors down, he suddenly stopped and turned to you, biting back a mischievous smile.

— Already? — You crossed your arms, tilting your head to the side. — Couldn't keep up the lie for too long, huh?

He didn’t answer. Instead, in one swift motion, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a step, making you stumble slightly. Before you could regain your balance, his hands were firm on your waist, pressing your body against his. Hoshi leaned back against the railing, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could say anything, Hoshi leaned up, capturing your lips in a deep, yearning kiss. Stealthily, his palms slid along the sides of your waist until his fingers pressed firmly against your skin, keeping you close.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared, leaving only the heat of his body against yours, the intoxicating taste of his kiss. His touch became gentle again, filled with hidden intentions, but the way his fingertips moved was so light that you barely felt them creeping upward.

Not until he reached your chest, teasingly squeezing them.

You pulled away, breathless, your face flushed. Your heart pounded wildly as you opened your eyes again, only to find that satisfied smile on his lips. His scent, mixed with the faint, enclosed air of the stairwell, made your head spin slightly.

— You should know by now that I could never resist an opportunity like this. — He murmured, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Your heart pounded against your ribs. You could feel his breath far too close to your skin – warm and enticing. The empty stairwell, the silence around you, the way he held your waist as if he had no intention of letting go… everything seemed to conspire against any chance of escape.

But did you really want to escape?

Woozi

You and Woozi had decided to have another one of those afternoons where you both worked on your own projects while enjoying each other's quiet company. His new comeback was approaching, and he still had many songs to work on, while you had to deal with the planning of this new project your boss had made you responsible for.

The room was immersed in a tranquil, almost dreamlike atmosphere. The soft strumming of Woozi’s guitar filled the space with an enchanting melody, blending with the sweet aroma of the warm cookies on the table.

At first, everything felt perfect. Your cup of your favorite drink was still warm between your fingers, and the ambiance seemed to conspire in your favor, helping you focus on the project assigned to you. But as the hours passed, the open pages on your laptop remained nearly untouched, the blinking cursor a cruel reminder that you weren’t even halfway through your planning.

A tired sigh escaped your lips, and Woozi, ever attentive, noticed. He stopped strumming, placing his guitar aside before standing up. His quiet steps didn’t immediately alert you, but soon you felt his firm yet gentle touch as he pulled your chair to turn you towards him.

Before you could question him, Woozi slid his hands around your waist, effortlessly lifting you, making a small laugh slip from your surprised lips. He didn’t say a word, simply carrying you in his arms toward the bed and laying you down gently on the mattress. His eyes met yours for a moment, a silent invitation reflected in the dark shimmer of his gaze.

He lay down beside you, pulling your leg over his hip, bringing your bodies closer. One of his hands traced slow, deliberate paths down your back, making your breath hitch. The kiss that followed was deep and sensual, filled with tenderness and intent. His tongue moved slowly against yours as his fingertips ghosted over your skin, coaxing you into relaxation in his arms.

You let your nails trail lazily down his abdomen, sending shivers across his skin, making him smile against your lips. Every touch was a silent promise that here, in his embrace, you could finally rest. The warmth of his body surrounded yours, and without even realizing it, your eyes began to close.

And just like that, clinging to him, you finally surrendered to sleep.

Dokeyom

You and your boyfriend were having yet another secret rendezvous at your place – just a night to binge-watch some random Netflix series while eating too much pizza and ice cream.

The house was filled with laughter, and footsteps hurried against the floor, as if, instead of a grown-up couple, two mischievous children had taken over the place. Every time you and Dokyeom were together, time seemed to rewind, and each date turned into a collection of questionable decisions and pure fun. The latest one? Play-fighting.

It all started harmlessly – a fierce battle for the TV remote. You grabbed it first, clutching it to your chest as if it were the most precious thing in the world. Dokyeom, with his usual mischievous grin, tried to snatch it from you, the two of you wrestling as if the fate of humanity depended on who would pick the next show.

What you didn’t realize, however, was that behind your boyfriend’s gentle and smiley nature, there was actual strength. And it was only when, in the blink of an eye, he grabbed your ankle with firm hands and pulled you down onto the couch that you understood how dangerous it had been to challenge him.

— Hey! — you exclaimed, trying to regain your balance, but it was too late.

Dokyeom laughed out loud, triumphant, and before you could turn around or come up with a counterattack, he was already on top of you. He pinned your wrists above your head with humiliating ease, his absurd strength contrasting with the bright, innocent smile he always carried.

— Did you really think you could win against me? — he teased, leaning in a little closer, his eyes sparkling with amusement. — You really shouldn’t underestimate me like that, sweetheart.

Your heart pounded – partly from the fight, partly because the sudden closeness between you made everything feel even more electrifying. Dokyeom held your wrists firmly but not tightly enough to hurt, and the way he hovered over you, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, made the world seem to slow down.

Dokyeom brushed his lips against yours, giving your lower lip a playful bite. You gasped against his mouth, and he finally took your lips in a gentle kiss, his tongue making its way into your mouth.

This kiss would be just like the others you’ve shared, but there was something different about this one – something more intense, something that sent shivers down your spine, that twisted into a familiar knot in the pit of your stomach, and all because of the way he’s manhandling you and pressing you into the couch effortlessly.

— I haven’t given up yet — you breathlessly challenged when he broke the kiss, squirming in an attempt to free yourself, but Dokyeom only laughed, tightening his fingers just a little around your wrists.

— Oh, really? Then convince me.

The challenge was set. And whatever the next bad decision of the night would be, one thing was certain – you two wouldn’t come out of this fight without consequences.

Mingyu

The kitchen was warm, filled with the aroma of spices and the soft sound of the knife slicing ingredients on the cutting board. Mingyu stood beside you, big and imposing, absentmindedly stirring the spoon inside the pan. But no matter how much he tried to focus on the food, he kept watching you – a gaze heavy with something intense, something that made your whole body tingle under his attention.

You tried to ignore it, continuing to chop the vegetables, but his presence was impossible to overlook. The way he moved, how his broad shoulders seemed to take up all the space around you, how the difference in size between you both became even more obvious every time he leaned in slightly to grab something from the counter.

And then, suddenly, you realized. His gaze wasn’t just a gaze. It was a warning.

Before you could react, Mingyu slid closer, his warm body brushing lightly against yours. He didn’t say anything – he simply pushed the scattered utensils and ingredients aside, clearing the counter. Your heart skipped a beat as you slowly turned to face him.

He was already there, too close, too tall, too broad, with those dark eyes locked onto yours.

Your stomach flipped when his hand found your waist, long fingers pressing firmly into the curve. But what truly caught you off guard was when he slipped his other hand under your leg, gliding up to the back of your knee before lifting you effortlessly.

A small gasp escaped your lips as your body was lifted as if it weighed nothing, and within seconds, you were seated on the counter, with Mingyu standing between your legs.

His warmth seemed to consume everything around you. Your breath was uneven, and you barely had time to say anything before he leaned in, his hands gripping your waist tighter as his lips met yours.

The kiss started slow, intense, as if he wanted to savor every second, as if he had waited too long for this. His lips were warm, firm against yours, and as the tension between you both grew, the kiss deepened, turning hungrier, more demanding.

Mingyu slid his fingers across your skin, holding you against him as if he didn’t want to let you go. His left hand trailed up to the base of your throat, his long fingers wrapping around it, applying just enough pressure for you to feel him there, but not enough to choke. Your body fit against his almost naturally, and the sensation of contrast – your height against his, his strength against your fragility – made your heart race even faster.

When he finally pulled back, your faces remained close, breaths mingling. Mingyu’s eyes were darker, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

— Forget the food. — He murmured, his voice husky. — I have a better idea...

And before you could respond, he kissed you again, stealing any words that might have left your mouth.

Minghao

The deserted beach looked like a scene straight out of a dream – the sky painted in warm hues of orange and pink, the salty breeze caressing your skin, the sound of waves crashing softly against the sand. Minghao had chosen this place carefully, a secret hideaway where the world seemed to exist just for the two of you.

He stood in front of you, his gaze fixed on you with that intensity that always made your heart race. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his light pants, his posture relaxed, but his eyes said something else – he was having fun, and you knew that meant he was in a teasing mood.

— I have your present. — He announced, his velvety voice blending with the night breeze.

Your eyes sparkled with excitement, and you practically bounced in place, clasping your hands together like a child waiting for candy.

— Give it to me! Let me see! — You insisted, a wide smile spreading across your face.

Minghao let out a short, muffled chuckle, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the corner of his lips curving into an arrogant smirk. His gaze darkened slightly, glinting with veiled mischief as he replied:

— Beg me. — He answered. — Beg me, and maybe I’ll show you.

Your smile faltered for a second, weighing your options. Minghao loved this kind of game, and you knew the only way to win was to play along. So, slowly, you wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him a little closer.

Your eyes traveled up to his, softer than usual, and you blinked a few times, leaning slightly into him.

— Hao... — Your voice came out lower, almost a whisper.

He laughed, a low, amused sound, and squeezed your waist with one hand before shaking his head.

— I know what you’re doing, but it wont work. — His fingertips brushed along your jaw, tilting your face up slightly. His smirk deepened, a spark of anticipation dancing in his gaze. — I want you to beg for real.

The way he said it, with his voice slow and dripping with provocation, sent a delicious shiver down your spine. Minghao wanted you to truly beg, and judging by the way he looked at you – with that lazy smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes – you knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

So, taking a deep breath, you leaned even closer, your arms still wrapped around his waist, your fingers tracing subtle patterns along the hem of his lightweight shirt. Your gaze lingered on his lips before slowly meeting his eyes again, filled with something deeper, something more genuine.

— Please, Hao… — Your voice was soft, almost a whisper, and your fingers pressed gently against his waist as if urging him closer. — Give it to me…

For a moment, time seemed to slow down. You saw his smirk falter slightly, his eyes darkening as he took in your words and the way you said them. Then, Minghao tilted his head to the side, his lips curling back into that satisfied smile.

He hummed, looking at you with a predatory glint in his eyes, and finally, he leaned in toward you.

The kiss started off slow, a delicious contrast to his earlier teasing. His lips met yours with patience, as if savoring every second, drinking in the taste of your surrender. But it didn’t take long for the softness to shift into something more intense—the rhythm picking up as he gripped your waist tighter, deepening the kiss.

His fingers traveled up your back, the light touches sending shivers through your skin as he pulled you even closer, as if trying to erase any space between you. You felt his breath mix with yours, the warmth of his body radiating through the thin fabric separating you.

When he finally pulled back, that same smirk lingered, but his eyes now held a different shine – less playful, more intense. He kept his hand tangled in your hair at the nape of your neck, keeping you tilted toward him, and rested his forehead against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist firmly.

— Now that’s more like it. — He murmured against your lips, his voice low and satisfied.

You smiled, breathless, your eyes shining with expectation.

— And my present?

Minghao let out a soft chuckle, sliding his hands down to your arms before pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

— I’m already giving it to you.

Seungkwan

The court was empty at that hour, illuminated only by the tall lampposts scattered around the space. The scent of dry earth and freshly cut grass mixed with the night breeze, and the only sound besides the rustling of the trees was Seungkwan’s slightly quickened breath – and your quiet, satisfied laughter.

— Stop laughing. — He grumbled, crossing his arms, but the glint in his eyes betrayed that he wasn’t actually mad.

— I’m not laughing. — You lied shamelessly, holding back another chuckle as you watched him huff.

You had made a bet. Seungkwan, always competitive, had sworn he could make ten consecutive shots without missing a single one. Knowing his exaggerated confidence all too well, you had doubted him. What he hadn’t expected was to miss the very last attempt, and now he was standing there, staring at you with feigned indignation while you basked in your victory.

— Come on, admit it. I won. — You teased, tilting your head to the side. — I told you you couldn’t do it.

Seungkwan rolled his eyes, tossing the basketball away before stepping closer with slow, deliberate steps.

— So what? I missed a single shot, that means nothing. — He grumbled, his voice lower now, laced with that same playful provocation he always used to throw you off.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you held his gaze.

— On the contrary, it means you have to do whatever I want for a full minute.

Seungkwan raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms again as if weighing the idea. The problem was, despite his stubborn front, he already knew he was doomed. The way you looked at him, a mix of mischief and that touch of sweetness that always disarmed him, made his pride waver just a little.

— And what do you want? — He asked, wetting his lips before looking at you more challengingly.

You took a step forward, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth of his body despite the cool night breeze. Your fingers trailed slowly up the fabric of his shirt, stopping at the collar.

— You know. — Your voice came out soft, almost a whisper.

Seungkwan let out a short breath through his nose, as if frustrated with himself for giving in so easily, but the way his shoulders relaxed betrayed the truth.

— You’re impossible. — He murmured, and then, before you could respond, he pulled you in by the collar of his own shirt, his lips meeting yours with the perfect mix of urgency and teasing.

The kiss started firm, dominated by his competitive nature, as if he was proving a point. But then, as the seconds passed, the initial tension melted away, giving way to something more genuine. The rhythm slowed, his lips moving against yours more languidly, the heat of his touch consuming every part of you.

Seungkwan cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs brushing over your skin as he deepened the kiss with a satisfied sigh. He had wanted to tease you, but in the end, he was always the one who got lost first.

When he pulled away, his eyes still closed, he took a moment before finally speaking, his voice a little husky:

— I bet you cheated.

— You missed all on your own, babe. I had nothing to do with it. — You laughed, resting your forehead against his.

He opened his eyes, narrowing them slightly before smirking. — Best out of three.

— If I win again, will you kiss me again?

Seungkwan let out a dramatic sigh, but the smile still lingered, hidden at the corner of his lips. — You’re not gonna win.

But judging by the way he was already pulling you toward the ball, you knew he wouldn’t mind losing again.

Vernon

It was only the first month of your relationship with Vernon, and you were already sure he was everything you could ever want: fun, funny, kind, and even a little shy. But there was a problem.

The kiss… or rather, the lack of one.

Vernon always came up with excuses whenever you had the chance to be alone, and it was starting to seem like he preferred anything over kissing you. So when he invited you over for a movie night at his place… you were surprised, to say the least. Was it finally going to happen? Did he want to make it special?

Everything was perfectly set up, the dim lighting in the living room making the atmosphere even cozier – and more romantic. You and Vernon were sitting on the couch, a forgotten bucket of popcorn beside you, while the movie played on the screen. You were the one who picked the film, excited by its premise – TikTok edits – but before you even pressed play, Vernon had already commented:

— I'm pretty sure I saw some bad reviews about this one…

You ignored him, more focused on other things than the movie. But as the minutes passed and nothing you expected happened the slow-paced plot and forced dialogues started to weigh down. Boredom filled the air. You sighed, resting your head against the back of the couch, and without realizing it, you started playing with the soft strands at the nape of his neck, gently twisting them between your fingers.

Vernon, on the other hand, was distracted, his eyes on the screen, but when you started bouncing your leg non-stop, he smirked, recognizing your restlessness. He didn’t say anything, simply enjoying your impatience in silence.

— This movie is so boring — you huffed impatiently after a few more minutes.

Vernon let out a low chuckle and turned to you, murmuring teasingly: — I told you so.

You huffed again, sinking into the soft couch, but Vernon was more cunning than he seemed, and you barely noticed his warm breath approaching your neck in the dimly lit living room. A shiver ran down your spine as he leaned in closer, lightly rubbing his nose along your neck before leaving a soft kiss on your skin. A mischievous smile immediately formed on your lips.

Slowly, you tilted your head to the side, and your eyes locked on his. For a second, everything faded into the background – the forgotten movie, the justified bad reviews, the untouched popcorn. Vernon still had that playful smile on his lips when you leaned in, and he welcomed you eagerly.

It started slow and comfortable, filled with repressed longing. Vernon gripped the back of your neck firmly, deepening the kiss. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. Sensing that, Vernon swiftly slid his free hand down to your ass, pulling you onto his lap with a strong, quick motion.

The movie kept playing on the TV, but your attention was on something far more interesting.

Dino

Your boyfriend had to cancel the dinner you were supposed to have because of the rehearsal for his solo launch, but he felt bad about rescheduling with you, knowing how much those moments meant to you – he also didn’t want to be away from you that night. That’s why he invited you to watch the rehearsal.

The muffled sound of the music still reverberated in the air as Dino monitored each step of the choreography in the mirror like a hawk. During the rehearsal, he barely took his eyes off you. Every movement of yours, every reaction, every subtle and hurried touch during the breaks between the clean-up of the choreography seemed to carry something more, an intensity and veiled yearning between the two of you.

And you felt every furtive glance he cast your way, sensing something growing between you, something irresistible.

Now, at the end of the session, the mood was different. The empty room and the sudden silence seemed to make the atmosphere more tense. Dino approached you unexpectedly, his steps firm, almost challenging. He stopped right in front of you, and in a swift movement, he pushed you against the door, trapping you between his body and the cold wood. His gaze was full of intensity, as if he was measuring the moment with precision.

His lips were close to yours, the heat of his body radiating onto you. The pressure of his presence was almost physical, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest, but you also felt a delicious shiver, as if the air around you had changed in temperature.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked into your eyes, trying to gauge if you were ready for the next step, for what had yet to be said. His usual confident smile was now tinged with something more mysterious, something deeper, something between provocation and anticipation.

Dino tilted his head, his eyes locked on yours, and you felt as though the air around you was condensed into a single point of tension. He lowered his voice, almost whispering, and his words were laden with something you could barely understand:

— You know what I want, don’t you?

The question lingered in the air, like a provocation and a promise. He moved closer, his body pressed against yours, and you felt the intensity of his presence like never before. Dino held your chin, tilting your head to the side, and let a couple of kisses and light bites along your neck.

You deeply gasped, feeling the heat of his body against yours. He hid his smile in the crook of your neck, lifted his head up, locking his eyes on yours again, then bit your lower lip, making you whimper softly.

— The others… — you started, but Dino cut your words off before you could continue.

— There’s no one here anymore, beauty — he murmured on your lips, and in the next second, he took your lips in a hungry kiss.

His hands traveled down along your side, lifting you with no effort and pressing your back against the door, his body pressed on yours. After that, he slid his hand right to your butt, squeezing your soft flesh and pulling you against him, pressing your bodies together with fervor and desire.

#'svt x reader #svt scenarios #svt fluff #svt smut #seventeen #svt imagines #svt headcanons #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #svt x you #svt reactions #seventeen reactions #svt angst #slightly suggestive #svt reader #svt x reader

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pinkmirth · 2 months ago

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thinking about s/o who likes to dress up their vampire bf (yes i'm talking about adrian) and they always make sure that he likes the outfit too. he's just so pretty i can't 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪ ˖ 𓈒 “DOTE” FT. ADRIÁN ‘ALUCARD’ ȚEPEȘ! ⸻ ( 2k+ ) words of ⨾ fluff + suggestive/nsfw, alucard x fem!reader ( black-coded ), canon-divergent, set in the set in the 15th century (1400s), established relationship, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

my love letter! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ oh my goodness luna, i adore this!!! doting on adrian and clothing him sounds like a dream! it’s moving enough for me to want to put it into words . . . i ended up writing this out to be a teensy bit sentimental, if that’s okay! i feel like he’d be hesitant to receive affection but eventually ends up reveling in it because it’s just what he needed! adrian truly deserves some loveee, and i’m here to give it to him >.< please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎

there’s something you and your lover like to call the ‘ echoes, ’ simply put, for any noise that bounces off the walls resounds throughout the entire castle. it’s a reliable system, and adrian’s able to use it to call your attention from anywhere within it.

“darling,” there goes his soothingly silken voice, ringing out all the way from the east wing. at times, you’re amused at how it can reach you from this far. “would you come over and give this a look, please?”

at his plea, you’ll be there. so you settle down the leatherback-book you’d been reading, slinking the pad of your finger beneath a page to fold it by the crisp outer corner.

“coming!”

you’re sure he feels you nearing, courtesy of your shallow-heeled footsteps thudding upon the wine-red shag of his home’s romanian rugs. he acknowledges your presence by swinging open the door to the primary bedroom.

you didn’t think you’d have to tiptoe around mountain-sized heaps of clothing upon entering adrian’s chamber— his closet’s practically ravaged. although, living with a dhampir was never known to be an experience short of surprises.

in the midst of all the madness is where he stands, still adorned in his cream nightgown. he’s got a garment clutched in one hand and a pullover tunic in the other. the subtle veins running along his slender hands makes his grip look exasperated. alucard appears to be having one of those days— where nothing feels just right.

“what’s all this, dear? thought you’d have been dressed by now,” you call out, making your way around a stockpile of trousers to approach him. gently, your delicate hands come to settle upon the broad expanse of his clothed chest. just as he figured it would, your touch immediately soothes him.

the man sighs before he speaks. “i apologize,” adrian peers down at you from where he stands, dropping both items to rest his hands on either side of your hips, “i’ll make sure to clean up afterwards.”

“no worries,” you hum, offering him a warm, sweet smile. when he tends to grow reckless, you know what he needs most is a dash of affection. “you wanted me to take a look at something, yes?”

“i did,” he mumbles, sunny eyes flitting over to his plundered closet, “though now i’m seriously reconsidering every single piece that i own.”

you don’t make a point to say it, but you know it isn’t about the blouses or the pants or any of those things. it’s his mind that tends to run rampant on all that’s been and all he’s lost. at tines, it manifests into agitation, a period of overstimulation where one thing makes him shirk and another gets him withdrawn. despite it all, he’s consoled that you’re here to reel him back in and distract him from himself in that dreamy little way that you do.

“show me the one you were last contemplating on, adrian.” you do it with such ease, pulling him out of his own head and bringing him back into the moment. for a good second, he thinks of just how lucky one man could possibly be.

“go on,” you pat his chest, and his lips flit up into a subtle grin. now more content, adrian scours for it and eventually plucks it off an embroidered chair situated in the corner; only God knows how it got there.

pinched between his index and thumbs, alucard holds up the top, exaggerated sleeves and all, presenting it to you; a simple chestnut colored option that shares the same wood-like hue as the bedpost.

“my twelfth option of the day,” he snidely notes. his sarcasm pries giggle from you. “what do you think, love?”

“it’s quite pretty,” you tilt your head, inspecting the piece with sparkly, concentrated eyes. he admires the way a wispy strand of hair falls along to drape against your face. just precious, he believes.

“it’s a little puffy at the sleeves, though.”

“i knew it,” adrian attests, “this is too . . . flouncy.”

“oh, forget what i said! it’s the perfect amount of flouce.”

“no no, it’s far too much. it’s practically screaming at me.” to that, you chuckle a bit. he can be ever so keen to such minute details.

theatrically, adrian mounts the nearby bed and flops atop the tousled sheets, an exhale leaving the depths of his chest upon impact. “i suppose this is just an ‘only-underwear’ sort of day.” you nearly add that he might as well free himself as a whole and go naked, but the poor man would flush so badly that you choose to refrain.

“you know, adrian,” you scan over his collection, eyeing the finest of silks, puffed shirts and ruffles. his wardrobe practically looks fitting for that of wallachian royalty. “i could make it easy, choose an outfit for you.”

its sudden, how he sits upright and turns to you. his eyes blink just a bit wider, a little slower. alucard’s mouth strikingly quirks upwards in a way that makes you believe he hadn’t been comfortable with the idea— almost as though you’d been meaning to treat him like a child.

“you’d . . . dress me up?”

you retract in the slightest, “only if you’d like. it isn’t a must—”

“please,” he ultimately responds, tone soft and low, “by all means.” it had just been the thought of the sheer intimacy that dazed him. you selecting what would fit him best through your eyes, pulling himself free of his clothes, revealed unto you as you’re dolling him up . . . it all sounds so touching and right now, he wants nothing more.

he can feel palpable relief roll off of you in waves as you beam, “sounds perfect, then.” he calms himself and fixes his countenance, gracing you with a sincere smile. rosy pigment scatters itself upon his face. you catch onto that hopeful glimmer in his eye, one that shows he’s pleased though you can’t quite place it. he’s too softened to say that gratitude has overcome him.

your back is facing him as you rummage around and take your pick, “undress while i put something together, alright?”

“bold request,” adrian characteristically quips. you merely laugh, “you should be bare once i turn around, you hear?”

he hums in acknowledgment, although he opts for tidying up the room first. you can’t see him with your back turned, yet you know he made use of his vampirian speed to grab and fold all his clothes that’d been thrown-askew, including the night attire he’d already been wearing. it amazes you that it only took him a solid eight seconds to complete it all.

“i’m sure that’s convenient,” you muse, turning his way with your selections in hand. alucard’s bare now, adorned in nothing other than his undergarments. a plain and skimpy pair of beige-white breeches shouldn’t excite you so— but god, they hang so low on his hips it’s like they’re barely even there. and how could you possibly ignore the way the cloth clings to his thighs? his arms look strong and coiled like wire, and the chiseled lining of his lean torso is embellished by the fleshy-pink scar that runs past his abdomen all the way up the center of his firm chest.

adrian can only hold your gaze for so long before realizing that you’re drinking him in. consciously, he pivots his head the other way as though to escape it, allowing his lengthy hair to drape down and cover the flushing of his fair cheeks.

you inch up to him, setting the clothes on his bedside. you find his larger hand to interlace with your own, and he only grows redder. there’s an indescribable pride that comes with being capable of riling him up.

“oh, don’t tell me you’re shy,” your hum is sugary like marmalade, “i’ve seen you before . . . you’re beautiful.”

“oh my god,” he whispers, pressing a palm to his heated face. sometimes adrian finds you to be too sweet. he isn’t sure how you haven’t yet succeeded at killing him with all your flattery. he bashfully smiles, cheeks warm as you stand high on your toes to peck them. “you and that mouth of yours.”

“i’ll leave you alone before you overheat,” you tease, halting your affections to return to the task at hand. “you love to toy with me,” he breathes out, and your giggle confirms it. you then display your choices; fitted pants of black leather paired with a warm-tan blouse, one that brings out the shine of his sharp eyes and adds a flush of vitality to his fair skin. interestingly enough, it resembles the color of his golden hair. you’d gone with something similar to his typical style so that he’d feel comfortable wearing it; though you know he’s been rather picky today.

“is it okay?” the way you await his approval makes his heart throb right within his chest. if only you knew that you handpicking anything for him was enough to make him fall in absolute love with it. it had never really been the outfit— he’s sure he just needed you all along.

“more than okay.” he smiles up at you, lips soft and pale-pink. you wonder if you’d end up altering the mood if you leaned down to kiss him. “well chosen, dear.”

“i know just what you like, don’t i?” you sound quite delighted, and it warms him up inside. “but of course. it’s my closet, after all.” the both of you share a knowing laugh that makes you feel so wholesome, so bound. you’ll be sure to commit the feeling to memory.

he then rises to his feet, standing a solid foot above you as he works his way into the bottoms you chose. a pout overtakes you, pretty lips pursed as you whine, “i could’ve done that!”

“you’ll get to fix the blouse. sounds fair, yes?” adrian knows if you were to have worn his pants for him, the hard-on he’d sport would’ve been more than embarrassing. you’ve seen each other vulnerable a good amount of times, and made love even more than what could be counted, but during a moment like this would only sully the mood, he’s sure.

with a hum, you give in. “fine,” your fingers trace against the threading of his shirt, “sit back down for me. you’re too tall for me to dress you from here,” alucard’s always found the contrast in size between the both of you to be endearing, especially whenever you go on to mention it. you’re surprised he decides to choose obedience instead of poking fun. he takes his place upon the bed and makes room for you to settle atop his lap. it’s instinctive, how quickly his hands reach for your waist. he rubs them along the patterning of your corset.

“arms out,” you’re a little less content when his touch leaves you, though you adore how well he listens. you ease the top over his head, onto his arms and finally onto the rest of his frame, tucking away the mussed locks of wavy blonde hair that fall array.

“i’ll brush it out for you later, adri,” you murmur, smoothing down the frizz before bringing your hands to cradle his cheeks. his face looks simply ethereal this close; flawlessly structured, handsome yet elegant. once again, his hands find their rightful place upon your sides. you watch him melt in your very hold when you coo, “my pretty boy.”

he whimpers a lowly call of your name. “thank you . . for all of it.” you know these sort of pocketed moments mean so much to him. his gentle pitch wavers with the subtlest hint of desire; you’d know the sound of it anywhere. still soft-spoken, though the slightest bit deeper. raspier, even. he only reserves such a tone for you.

your response is hushed, just about breathless, “always, adrian.” the pair of you are so close that the straightened tip of his nose grazes against your own. when the tension grows too thick and you can no longer escape his lips reeling you in like magnets, you finally lean into him and let your mouths slot, warmth blooming between you. his lithe fingers roam and you suckle at his bottom lip, prying a soft groan out of him.

alucard kisses you with longing, the span of his fangs subtly clashing against the pearly white of your teeth as he works at prodding his tongue inside, nipping at your lips and tasting of you. he frees out soft, little ‘ i love you ’ amongst all the licking and sucking.

you both wind up toppling down onto the bed, with his back to the mattress and your squished breasts to his heart. making out with a man such as adrian always gets so heavy; you’re panting into each other's mouths, swallowing up the other one’s sounds, and you just can’t seem to help but slowly roll your hips into the stiffness of his crotch. a handful of minutes with him already has you entirely soiled.

“this is becoming something else,” alucard breaks away with a huff, fighting himself not to rip off the clothes you just adorned him in.

but fuck, you aren’t helping. “allow it, then . . .” is your solution, bringing the plush surface of your lips to suckle along his jaw, against the column of his throat, right down his neck . . . no point in refraining now. you eased him of his worries, and he only wants nothing more than to repay you.

“quite a shame, dear.” it truly is— especially considering that you put together such a stylish assortment for him. “now everything must be undone.”

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biboomerangboi · 1 year ago

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Hua Cheng essentially cockblocking himself for possibly all of eternity will literally never not be the funniest thing MXTX ever wrote.

Xie Lian was pretty much completely in love with him the second he saw those lanterns (and completely oblivious about it) and then we get the wonderful first kiss underwater moment and Xie Lian is basically drawing hearts around Hua Cheng every time he sees him. While like quietly dying cause he literally has no idea what to do with it. Like at this point he doesn’t even really understand that he is head over heels totally gone for this man.

Until Hua Cheng is like I have a beloved I just haven’t won them over yet. Which he thinks is perfectly reasonable because his self esteem is the worst and he doesn’t understand how he could have won Xie Lian over yet. (He’s only on step 22 of his Marrying Dianxia 3000 step Master Plan ((that he debates throwing out on a regular basis because he doesn’t deserve to even dream about wanting Xie Lian)). So course he’s like yeah I have this wonderful noble beautiful beloved I just haven’t won them over yet wink wink nudge nudge.

But Xie Lian is like oh of course obviously I don’t deserve nice things and fuck I actually wanted him so badly I’m actually in love with him and now I will resign myself to never being happy for his sake. (Their combined self esteem is truly a so low it’s a hole in the ground which is hilarious because they think the other person is to good for them and unattainable forever because they literally have the same neurosis.) So he starts boxing up his feelings forever constantly wanting Hua Cheng and feeling guilty about it and literally dying inside because he wants Hua Cheng like he’s never wanted anyone.

Like essentially books 3 and 5 only happen because Hua Cheng has now cursed them both by saying he has a beloved because Xie Lian believes he isn’t wanted and therefore any nice thing Hua Cheng does is just him being nice and not Hua Cheng pulling out steps 23-34 of his plan thinking he still hasn’t won Xie Lian over. (He has he so has but he shot himself in the foot so badly it’s painful to read).

Like thank the Gods Hua Cheng is so unhinged and created the cave of 10000 Gods cause Xie Lian would literally be at his own wedding to Hua Cheng still convinced he wanted someone else and this was in fact a thing they were doing to solve a case together otherwise.

Like he needed something that unhinged to put 2 and 2 together otherwise he never would have caught on he’s Hua Cheng’s beloved. Meanwhile Hua cheng is like 🥺 he’s going to think I’m a weirdo now and I’m only on step 50 of the plan 🥺 like the two of them wouldn’t have been fucking nasty 2 books ago if he just kept his mouth shut and didn’t cockblock himself so violently.

#I hate them I love them they are both so stupid #hualian #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #hua cheng #xie lian #heavens official blessing #heaven official's blessing #hualian meta #tgcf meta #actually don’t know why I’m tagging this as meta I’m just bullying them but you get it #zee rambles #writing them and wanting to die #zees 2am text posts

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dollishmehrayan · 4 months ago

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HOW DIFFERENT BATBOYS APOLOGIZE AFTER A ARGUMENT ── .✦

a/n: Lowkey I feel like I’m like slightest but problematic in arguments (not me exposing myself) but srs I got this request by a anon! (Here) So yeah tysmm, I won’t be writing the argument because lowkey, I can’t do angst at this time 💔😞

(Tags: how different batboys apologize after a argument)

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The "I'm Sorry, But…" Apology: Bruce’s apology might be a little stiff at first. He’s not great with words when it comes to his emotions, but he does know how to make up for things. His apology might start with something like, "I know I’m… difficult, but I didn’t mean to hurt you." The real comedy comes in when he tries to "fix" the situation by throwing money at it—like suggesting an extravagant dinner or buying you a new wardrobe because, "I know it will make you feel better."

Trying Too Hard to Be ‘Normal’: He might try to act like he’s “not Bruce Wayne” for a second, attempting to be goofy to show you he’s truly sorry. Picture Bruce awkwardly trying to make a joke: "I’m sorry I made you feel like I was ignoring you. How about we go out… without my bodyguards this time? You know, like a normal date?"

The Silent Apology: More often than not, Bruce will show you he’s sorry with actions, like preparing your favorite meal or doing something thoughtful (such as leaving you a handwritten note or taking care of something you've been stressing about). But if you press him for words, he might simply mutter, “I’m not good at this… but I am sorry,” and leave it at that.

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The Full-On “I’m Sorry, Please Forgive Me” Routine: Dick is extremely sorry whenever he’s messed up, and he knows how to make it entertaining. He’ll show up with flowers, chocolates, or maybe even your favorite ice cream. And then, with a totally sincere but dramatic flair, he’ll say something like, “Listen, I know I was an idiot, and I have no excuse except that I’m clearly emotionally stupid when I’m upset. So please, for the love of all things holy, let me make it up to you.”

Humorous Apologies: Dick might also make you laugh with his over-the-top apologies. Maybe he tries to outdo himself by setting up an elaborate “romantic” date, only for it to completely go awry (think spaghetti noodles flying everywhere or a very unromantic “romantic” location). He’ll laugh it off, saying, “Okay, so maybe that’s not exactly how I imagined it… but you have to admit, it’s unforgettable.”

The Super Dramatic ‘I’m Sorry’ Speech: After an argument, Dick is not shy about admitting when he’s wrong. He’ll deliver a heartfelt, exaggerated apology, something like, "I was a fool, and I see now that I was wrong. You are perfect, and I am definitely not. How do you put up with me?" Then, he might give you puppy-dog eyes, as if expecting you to immediately forgive him.

JASON TODD ── .✦

The “I Know I Messed Up, But… Here’s a Gift” Approach: Jason is quick to apologize, but it’s not usually with a heartfelt speech. Instead, he’ll show up with a gift—maybe something small but thoughtful, like your favorite snack or a new book he knows you’ve been eyeing. He’ll casually hand it to you and say, “Alright, alright, I messed up. But you know I’m not great at this, so here’s my attempt at being a decent human being.”

Comedic Self-Deprecation: Jason, knowing he’s not always the best communicator, might start with a little self-deprecating humor. "Look, I’m sorry, okay? You’re right, I am a jerk sometimes. But hey, at least I didn’t set anything on fire this time, right?" He’ll try to make you laugh with his inability to fully express himself, but you know he means it.

The “I’m Sorry, Now Let’s Get Back to Normal” Routine: Jason might awkwardly try to move past the argument, brushing it off with a gruff, "Look, I’m sorry for being a pain. Can we just… go back to how things were?" It's not the most eloquent apology, but it’s Jason, and it’s his way of saying he wants to make things right without diving too deep into feelings.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

The "I Overthought This" Apology: Tim is a perfectionist, so when he messes up, he’ll overthink how to apologize. He’ll probably try to do something really thoughtful, like writing you a letter or planning a whole day dedicated to making it up to you. But the real comedy comes when he gets so wrapped up in planning that he’s awkward about it. "I, uh, made you a list of everything I could do to make it up to you, starting with… well, taking you out for dinner. You like sushi, right? But if you prefer something else, I can also—"

The "What Do You Need?" Routine: Tim might also take a very logical approach. He’ll ask, "What would you like me to do to fix this?" but in a way that makes it seem like he’s creating a spreadsheet of ways to apologize. "I’ve compiled some options for you to choose from. Option one: Dinner. Option two: A walk in the park. Option three: Let me do your laundry for the next week…”

The 'Nervous, Over-Apologetic' Tim: Tim is likely to be the one who apologizes over and over again. He’ll say “I’m sorry” about a dozen times in a single conversation, with increasing levels of anxiety. "I really didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry. Are we okay? You don’t seem mad, but if you are, I understand, and I’m really, really sorry."

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

The Reluctant Apology: Damian isn’t one to apologize easily, and when he does, it’s more formal. He might say something like, “I apologize for my behavior. It was uncalled for.” And then he’ll awkwardly pause, before adding, "I... didn’t mean to upset you." The comedic part comes when he clearly doesn’t understand how he’s hurt you. He might ask, “Is there anything I can do to make it right? Or… was this just another one of your moods?”

The Unintentional "Nice Guy" Apology: Damian will give you something as an apology—perhaps a bouquet of flowers or something that he “found interesting,” but he’ll likely be very stiff about it, saying something like, “This is for you. I thought you would appreciate it. It’s… an apology gift.” He’ll be surprised when you react positively, since he’s convinced that you’ll just think it’s lame

A Small Gesture of Remorse: As an apology, Damian might ask you to join him for a quiet walk or for tea, giving you a rare moment of sincerity. He might even throw in a joke (but it’ll be one of those very dry ones), saying, “The tea will be of the highest quality, so I suppose that should count for something."

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mggslover · 4 months ago

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Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories.

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed.

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted.

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.”

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.”

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid.

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod.

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head.

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor.

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?”

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear.

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. Being his best friend, it was you who he turned to. The one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn twisting in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could.

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for.

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island.

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.”

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was.

“I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling well. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered in an icy tone.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think? I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you responded, crossing your arms in defense.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, so Hotch knew?”

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened and his jaw tightening before looking away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” your voice trembled as you reached out to him, but he instinctively took a step back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible. You were terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He gaze fell down, before he looked back up at you. His expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I bother people with my problems?”

“No!” you replied in a desperate cry. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.”

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, your voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened. You bit your lip in an effort to stop the tears and confessions from spilling out.

He gently cupped your hands in his. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.”

Your chest ached as you stared into his glistening eyes. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with the truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

It felt like the world had stopped. Spencer stood completely frozen, his heart skipping multiple beats. Then he loosened his grip on your hand, and you immediately regretted speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

At this point, tears were streaming down your cheeks. “I’m an awful friend.”

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs. He hated to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached.

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, as the weight of all these months finally came crashing down. His arms tightened around you, grounding you. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes searched for yours, and they were filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared dreaming of. Carefully, he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache.

“I mean it,” he firmly repeated. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

It was out of instinct that you leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand calming you down.“You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.”

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied with a shrug. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

A quiet sigh escaped his lips, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.”

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently urged you closer. The simple comfort of holding you in his arms felt overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been here for me from the start. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.”

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his next words coming out in a whisper. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch. No word in the dictionary could describe the way you were feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, before his eyes flashed with emotion. “Yes. Please.”

His hands cupped your face, before pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — raw, urgent, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A desperate whimper escaped your throat, conveying the need you’d kept bottled up all this time. Spencer seemed to feel it too, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

They continued their path to the buttons of his shirt. Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. Your palms met his bare skin, causing his grip on your hips yo tighten. The air around you grew hotter, as every inch of his body seemed to react to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he roughly murmured. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him.

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. His touches made you desperate for more, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, all consuming. One hand grasped your waist, holding himself steady, while he used the other to hook beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you in even closer.

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours.

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened.

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure.

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath.

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of delicate moans from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper. He was determined to hit the spot that he knew would make you cry out in pleasure.

Spencer’s low, breathy groans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you at the same time that he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

Text

MCU Characters x Reader (Part.1)

How they react when you are angry with them (Part.1)

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Peter Parker (Tom H.), Stephen Strange & Thor Odinson

I'm back in my MCU era, thanks to Agatha All Along, so expect a lot of MCU headcanons, feel free to request those!

Tony Stark

- When you’re angry with Tony, he’s a little stunned. He’s used to being able to charm his way through things or brush issues off with a joke, but the moment he realizes you’re genuinely upset, he feels the ground shift a little. Tony’s mind races, calculating what he did wrong, and for a second, he considers ignoring the problem—but not with you. You mean too much to him, and he can’t stand the idea of pushing you further away.

- He doesn’t immediately know how to apologize, so he leans into his classic defense mechanism: humor. He’ll try to make you laugh, throwing out quips, hoping you’ll crack a smile. When that doesn’t work, he gets a little awkward, mumbling things like, “This is why I avoid real feelings, you know?” as he fumbles through an apology. He’s not used to admitting fault, but with you, he’s learning to swallow his pride.

- Tony goes all out when he realizes he needs to make it up to you. He’ll throw himself into making amends, maybe even a little too extravagantly. Expect some grand, over-the-top gesture—a private jet to Paris, a limited-edition piece of tech he’s been tinkering on, or a fancy dinner in some exclusive place with an outfit he’s bought just for the occasion. He’s not subtle, and he knows it, but he’ll do anything if it means a smile from you.

- When the big gestures don’t work, he takes a different approach. He shows up at your door, looking strangely vulnerable, with something small and meaningful. Maybe it’s a handwritten letter he’s scribbled out, confessing how much he hates it when things aren’t okay between you two. It’s raw, real, and completely unlike Tony, but he means every word. This time, he wants to show that he’s willing to put the ego aside for you.

- Once you finally let him back in, Tony wraps you in his arms and doesn’t let go. He’ll joke that he’s not letting you get mad at him again, and maybe throw in a flirty quip about “testing his limits,” but there’s something deeper there too. Being loved by you has changed him, and he’s willing to work on himself for the first time in a long time. With you, Tony’s found a softness he didn’t know he had, and he’s not going to risk losing it.

Steve Rogers

- Steve Rogers doesn’t like conflict, especially not with you. When he realizes you’re angry, he immediately wants to address it and resolve it, hoping it won’t escalate. He tries to have a calm, level-headed conversation, but he can see that maybe it’s too soon. Steve’s patient, though; he’ll give you space if you need it, even if it pains him to let go for a while.

- While you’re cooling off, Steve takes time to reflect, replaying the situation in his mind, wondering where he went wrong. He’s his own worst critic and can be hard on himself, especially when it comes to you. He’ll try to see things from your perspective, understanding that sometimes his old-fashioned sense of right and wrong can be rigid. He’s willing to bend if it’s what’s needed to bridge the gap between you.

- When he approaches you again, he’s soft-spoken and earnest, offering a sincere apology. There are no excuses, no justifications—just him, owning up to whatever hurt you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours; he wants you to know he truly means it. And as he speaks, he promises he’ll do better, vowing to always listen to you and consider your feelings.

- To make it up to you, Steve chooses something simple but thoughtful, probably something he knows you love. It could be as quiet as a walk through your favorite park or as gentle as a handwritten note tucked into a book you’re reading. Steve understands that sometimes, it’s the little things that mean the most. He’ll give you the space to talk, letting you vent if you need to, always steady, always attentive.

- Once the air clears, Steve is more affectionate than usual, holding your hand, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, grateful to be back in your good graces. He values trust deeply and doesn’t take your forgiveness for granted. Steve knows relationships take work, and he’s fully committed to making it work with you, one respectful conversation at a time.

Natasha Romanoff

- Natasha doesn’t like it when things are off between you two, but she’s used to people being mad at her. Initially, she tries to shrug it off, acting like she doesn’t care, maybe even trying to ignore it. But you’re different. You’re not just anyone; you’re someone she actually trusts, and seeing you upset with her hits her hard.

- Natasha is far more comfortable dealing with enemies than emotional confrontations, so when she finally comes to you, she does it in a roundabout way. She might casually ask, “Are we good?” as if it’s not a big deal, but the nervous tension in her voice betrays her. She’s not great at apologies, so her attempt is awkward but sincere. It’s clear she’s trying, even if she doesn’t always have the words.

- To make it up to you, Natasha doesn’t go for big gestures but rather something deeply personal. She’ll take you to a place she loves—a quiet spot on a rooftop, a hidden café she discovered, somewhere she can let her guard down. She’s careful, almost shy, as she opens up a little about herself, sharing stories she rarely tells. In her own way, she’s letting you know how much she values you.

- Natasha doesn’t usually do comfort, but she’ll go out of her way to make you feel loved and safe. Maybe she’ll surprise you with breakfast or bring you something she knows you’ve been wanting. She pays attention, after all, even if she doesn’t always show it. Little by little, she’ll find ways to let you know that she’s there, committed to making things right.

- When you finally forgive her, Natasha breathes a sigh of relief, leaning in for a hug that lasts a beat longer than usual. She’s not big on words, but she’ll whisper something soft and sincere, just for you. Natasha’s fiercely protective, and after a falling-out, she’s even more attuned to making sure you feel cared for. She’ll stay close, a steady presence at your side, her quiet way of showing just how much she values you.

Bruce Banner

- When you’re angry with Bruce, he’s instantly anxious, worried he’s done something terribly wrong. Conflict isn’t his strong suit, and he’s painfully aware of his capacity for anger. He’s cautious, almost timid, when he realizes you’re upset, giving you space and time. He doesn’t want to make things worse or risk saying the wrong thing.

- Bruce spends time overthinking the situation, dissecting every detail. He questions himself, often getting caught in a loop of self-blame, wondering if he’s ever really been suited for a relationship. But even though he’s scared of confrontation, he values you too much to leave things unresolved. He wants to show you that he’s willing to work through whatever the issue is.

- When he finally comes to you, Bruce’s apology is soft, heartfelt, and a little self-deprecating. He’ll stumble through his words, not wanting to sound defensive, and there’s an earnestness in his gaze as he tries to convey just how much he wants to make things right. He’s not perfect, but he’s open to listening and doing better.

- To make it up to you, Bruce goes for something intimate and personal. He knows you appreciate small gestures, so he’ll show up with something that reflects his feelings for you—maybe a small book he thinks you’d love, or a little experiment from the lab that made him think of you. He’s shy about it, maybe a little embarrassed, but it’s his way of showing he cares.

- When you finally forgive him, Bruce visibly relaxes, wrapping you in a hug as if he never wants to let go. He’s careful, soft, and almost tentative, savoring the warmth of your embrace. Bruce cherishes the trust you give him and is deeply grateful to have someone willing to weather his insecurities. He might even joke, “You’re way too patient with me,” but the gratitude in his voice is genuine.

Clint Barton

- When Clint realizes you’re angry with him, his first reaction is a mix of regret and a slight laugh. He can’t believe he’s managed to mess things up this badly with you, of all people. He knows he tends to joke around a bit too much, so he tries to laugh it off at first, but when he sees how serious you are, his grin fades. He’ll look a bit awkward, rubbing the back of his neck, knowing he’s got some work to do.

- Clint’s never been one to give big, elaborate apologies. Instead, he’ll pull you aside, speaking quietly and genuinely. He’ll admit that he messed up, explaining that sometimes he forgets to take things seriously or considers others’ feelings the way he should. It’s a simple, heartfelt apology, showing his honest side that not many people get to see.

- Once he’s apologized, Clint is all about making you laugh. He’ll start cracking jokes, doing his best impressions, and even pull some ridiculous faces just to get a reaction out of you. Clint knows humor is his best weapon, and he’s shameless about using it if it means making things right. He’s determined not to let you stay mad at him for long, no matter what it takes.

- When his jokes don’t quite cut it, Clint switches gears and puts effort into something he knows will mean a lot to you. He’s a guy who pays attention to the little things, so he’ll show up with your favorite takeout, a warm blanket, or maybe even a funny book he picked up just for you. He knows that it’s the small gestures that can speak volumes.

- After things settle down, Clint wraps you in a warm, comfortable hug, one arm wrapped around your shoulder, making you feel like everything’s back to normal. He’ll joke about how lucky he is that you put up with him, throwing in a wink, but there’s a hint of seriousness behind his words. Clint doesn’t take his relationships for granted, and he’s grateful you’re in his life, even when he messes up.

Bucky Barnes

- Bucky’s heart sinks when he sees that you’re angry. He’s used to pushing people away, and now that he’s got you, he’s terrified of losing you over a misunderstanding. Bucky’s first instinct is to retreat, his mind already whispering that maybe he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you. He’ll avoid confrontation if he can, hoping things might smooth over on their own.

- But when he realizes he needs to talk to you, he’s hesitant, nervous, almost as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. Bucky approaches you carefully, speaking in a low, almost shy voice. He struggles with apologies, but he looks you in the eyes, opening up about how hard he finds it to express his feelings. He’s used to running, and being with you is the first time he’s tried not to.

- Bucky tries to make it up to you in the most low-key, thoughtful way possible. He’s not one for grand gestures, but he’ll do something meaningful and heartfelt, like leaving you a note explaining how much you mean to him or bringing you something that he knows you love. He’s nervous about whether it’ll be enough, hoping you can see the sincerity in his actions.

- When he feels things softening between you, Bucky relaxes just a little, offering his support in any way you need. He’ll stay close, maybe cooking a meal for you or sitting quietly with you, sharing a comfortable silence. He wants you to know that he’s there, without needing to say much, because he’s always believed that actions speak louder than words.

- When you finally forgive him, Bucky is beyond relieved. He’s more open with his affection, drawing you into a tight embrace, his touch lingering as if he’s afraid to let go. He knows he doesn’t have many people he can count on, but he’s grateful that he can count on you. Bucky’s still working on believing he deserves happiness, but having you in his life makes him want to try.

Sam Wilson

- Sam immediately notices when you’re angry, and his first instinct is to find out what’s going on. He’s straightforward and doesn’t like tension hanging in the air, so he’ll ask, “Alright, what did I do?” in his calm, genuine way, hoping you’ll be willing to talk it out. He’s good at reading people, but he wants to hear it from you directly.

- Sam listens intently when you explain what’s bothering you, nodding and giving you his full attention. He’s respectful and thoughtful, making sure you know he understands where you’re coming from. He’s not the type to dodge blame; if he’s at fault, he’ll own up to it right away. There’s no defensiveness, no excuses—just an honest desire to make things right.

- To make it up to you, Sam takes you on a simple, meaningful outing—something where the two of you can connect and have fun. He’s all about shared experiences, so maybe it’s a long walk, a favorite food spot, or even a small adventure he’s planned just for you. He’s careful, attentive, making sure the focus is on you and helping you feel valued.

- When things calm down, Sam offers a mix of humor and reassurance, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and promising to do better. He’ll look you in the eyes and say something like, “I don’t like seeing you mad. Tell me if I mess up again.” He’s genuine and open, showing you he wants to grow from this experience and be a better partner.

- Once everything’s back to normal, Sam goes the extra mile, making sure you’re laughing and relaxed. He’s always there to lift you up, pulling you in for a warm, affectionate hug and giving you his full, unwavering attention. Sam’s presence is solid, reassuring, and he’ll make sure you know just how much he values having you in his life.

Peter Parker (Tom H.)

- Peter’s heart sinks when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s young, a little clumsy with emotions, and absolutely hates the idea of upsetting you. His mind starts racing, thinking of everything he could have done wrong. He gets a little panicked, maybe even rambling apologies before he knows what’s going on, hoping you’ll give him a chance to explain.

- When you tell him what’s bothering you, Peter listens carefully, nodding along with wide, earnest eyes. He’s genuinely sorry, his voice soft as he stumbles through an apology. He’s never been great at handling relationship tension, but he’ll try his best to make sure you know how much he cares and how sorry he is for letting you down.

- To make it up to you, Peter goes for something heartfelt, maybe even a bit awkward, but completely sincere. He’ll show up at your window with a little homemade gift, something quirky and thoughtful—perhaps a playlist he made just for you or a funny little gadget he put together in the lab. He’s earnest, a little shy about it, hoping you’ll see how much effort he’s putting in.

- Peter spends extra time trying to lift your spirits, using every ounce of his playful personality to make you laugh. He’ll crack jokes, do silly impressions, or even attempt a bad dance routine just to get you smiling again. He knows he’s a bit of a dork, but he doesn’t mind if it means cheering you up. Peter’s all about making you feel comfortable and loved.

- When you finally forgive him, Peter’s face lights up with relief. He’ll pull you into a warm, enthusiastic hug, holding you close and babbling about how he’s “the luckiest person in the world” to have someone like you. He’s young, optimistic, and just incredibly happy that you’re not mad anymore. To Peter, you’re his world, and he’ll always do whatever it takes to make you feel special.

Stephen Strange

- When Stephen realizes you’re angry with him, he’s a bit taken aback. He’s used to being right and doesn’t often see things from others’ perspectives, so it takes him a moment to understand the weight of the situation. His initial reaction might even be a little defensive, but he quickly catches himself, knowing that with you, he has to try harder to listen and understand.

- Stephen struggles with apologies, often trying to explain away his actions or getting caught up in technicalities. He’s intelligent and analytical, but that doesn’t always work when emotions are involved. Eventually, though, he manages to offer a genuine apology, admitting that he’s not always the easiest person to be with and that he respects you enough to take responsibility.

- To make things right, Stephen will probably use a bit of magic to create something special just for you. It might be a small charm to keep you safe, a little illusion to make you smile, or even a glimpse into some place you’ve always wanted to see. It’s his way of saying he cares, using the one skill he knows best to bring you a little joy.

- As he tries to smooth things over, Stephen is careful, more attentive than usual, and visibly trying to understand your emotions. He may not be great at expressing his own feelings, but he’s willing to try if it means keeping you close. He’ll listen to you, nodding thoughtfully, and maybe even opening up a bit about his past mistakes and how much he values you.

- Once you forgive him, Stephen is visibly relieved, though he keeps it subtle. He gives you a small smile and pulls you close, brushing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he wraps his arms around you. He might even joke, “Guess I need to work on my bedside manner,” but there’s genuine affection behind his words. Stephen knows he’s lucky to have you, and he’s determined to keep learning how to love you better.

Thor Odinson

- Thor is visibly surprised when he realizes you’re angry with him. He’s naturally cheerful and doesn’t take most things too seriously, so the idea that he’s done something to upset you takes him off guard. At first, he tries to brush it off with a booming laugh, but when he sees the seriousness in your eyes, his smile fades. He immediately wants to fix things, willing to do whatever it takes to get you to smile again.

- Thor is quick to apologize, his voice earnest as he promises he didn’t mean to hurt you. He’s not one to overthink things, but he’s deeply sincere, and his apologies come straight from the heart. He’ll look you in the eyes and tell you he values you and never meant to cause any harm, his words laced with the kind of honesty that only Thor can deliver.

- To make it up to you, Thor goes all out. He’ll sweep you off on a grand adventure, maybe a spontaneous trip to Asgard (or at least what remains of it), or he’ll bring you somewhere beautiful and awe-inspiring. Thor loves to celebrate life and wants to remind you of all the incredible experiences the two of you can share. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he hopes that a bit of excitement will make things right.

- As you spend time together, Thor is extra affectionate, showering you with praise and hugs. He’s genuinely sorry and makes sure you feel loved and appreciated, maybe even telling you tales of his own mistakes and what he’s learned from them. He might tease himself a bit, but it’s all to make you laugh and remind you of his dedication to you.

- When you finally forgive him, Thor’s smile lights up the room. He laughs, pulling you into a bear hug, lifting you off your feet, and spinning you around. There’s nothing subtle about his relief and joy, and he’s not afraid to show it. Thor values you immensely and will do everything he can to make sure you know how much you mean to him, promising that he’ll try to be a little more mindful in the future.

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hyunebunx · 5 months ago

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˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

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yourmidnightlover · 1 year ago

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forever?

pairing: mob!bucky x reader

summary: after being forced into a marriage you didn’t want, you become very cautious of your new husband out of fear of what he’s capable of when one of his employees makes a move at a dinner meeting.

warnings: anxious reader, threat of domestic violence (reader is just worried abt it), groping, please let me know if i missed something or need to add anything!

a/n: reader is very timid in this. i know a lot of people like a reader who doesn’t take shit and stands up for herself, but i often find myself in situations where i just shut down and don’t know how to respond… so this is kinda inspired by that feeling

pt 2 -> control

two months out of forever.

two months of what seemed like wedded bliss from the outside.

in reality, that “bliss” included sleeping in separate rooms, never even seeing each other unless necessary to make appearances for either of your parents.

the ones who arranged for this to happen in the first place.

you were just glad you were able to have your time for yourself. you thought you would use the time to continue writing for your book, but you’ve hit a serious case of writers block. so lovely.

on the bright side, he wasn’t as controlling as your few friends had made it seem he would be.

they had painted this picture of a monster in your head. a man who would loom over your presence during every waking second. a man who was controlling and wouldn’t let you have a personal life or secrets.

so far, he’s been the opposite.

for some reason, that still leaves you unsteady.

because they also painted him in a very violent, angry, red light.

but maybe he had a mistress. if that were the case, he truly didn’t respect you or your family. it didn’t seem like bucky to do that, though. he wouldn’t ruin a business deal that benefitted him so much.

the reason you married him was because your father’s finance business was going under, drowned in debts while the only options were to sell to the barnes’ or the rumlow’s. the barnes’ seemed the lesser of two evils.

the only way to smoothly transition your father’s business to be under the barnes’ control without raising any question of your father’s capability was to marry. if any questions were asked about why your father sold his company, the not so good side of the finance industry would trample after your entire family. the barnes’ would get a new company and their many clients, while your family wouldn’t become entirely blacklisted by the entire country, would be putting your family under the barnes’ protection, and there would be less questions asked as to why the company had been merged.

you had a few months of “leaking” images of you and bucky together into the tabloids to prepare the public for the news of such a big marriage. some were photos of you and bucky holding hands while walking. a couple of you at a restaurant smiling. a few staged kissing photos… those may or may not have been your favorite.

those times spent with him, in all honesty, weren’t bad at all. going for walks together at sunset, dinner dates, feeling his lips against yours…

you had gotten to know more about his childhood that the tabloids didn’t feel was important to cover. his favorite subject in school and how he actually lost his arm so many years ago. you learned each others’ fears and worries in life. your favorite thing to learn about him, however, was what he truly wanted in life.

peace.

a couple weeks after the wedding, a few photos of the reception were once again “leaked” in order to sell the “too in love to wait” bit that everyone had started assuming upon seeing the first few photos of you and bucky together.

but all of your history with him flew to the back of your mind as bucky knocked on your office door.

“come in,” you replied hesitantly, not sure what he wanted from you for the first time since your wedding. he stepped through the threshold and stood at the doorframe.

“there’s a work meeting tomorrow,” his hand remained on the doorknob, so stiff you’d think he might rip it off the precious white wood in seconds. “the men are meeting at the house. i wanted to let you know. the men in this business, they expect marriages to be of the… traditional values.”

you nodded with understanding, turning to face him with a forced grin. “so i should play the part of the doting housewife, huh?” no smile in return, so you bit back your humor in turn for matching his serious tone. “what food should i prepare, then? and uh, how many guests will we be expecting?”

“whatever’s easiest for you,” he shrugged lightly. “there will be 9 of us there.” with one final look in your direction, he left the office and didn’t return to say goodnight.

the next morning you got to work setting the house up for the 6pm meeting your loving husband was hosting.

you had decided to set up a buffet-style table outside of the main dining room where the meeting would take place. for the menu, you settled on simple grilled chicken with quite a few side options. roast potatoes, asparagus, sauteed carrots, green beans, and rolls.

you were putting the rolls in the oven when bucky got home, seemingly entranced by the smell of all the food, heading straight to the kitchen.

“it smells amazing in here,” bucky called from the archway of the kitchen. you jumped slightly from the surprise, but swallowed down the shock and another weak smile.

“thanks,” you nodded to the edge of the island where a large chalkboard sat, your handwriting neatly displayed on the board that listed all the food to be had. “the menu. i figured a variety would be nice, and who doesn’t like chicken, right?”

“vegetarians,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was telling a joke. but you knew better than that. “the men are coming in a little less than an hour. do you maybe want to change before they get here?”

you looked down at what you were wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a loose t-shirt clearly not worthy of someone who had married a barnes man. “right, of course. i’m sorry,” you finished setting the timer on the oven and ran upstairs to get yourself put together before bucky saw the tears trying to seep past your waterline.

you settled on a black cocktail dress you had worn to one of your dad’s company events before the downfall… quickly swiping some makeup on to cover the exhaustion in your eyes and pulling your hair up to a more respectable updo rather than your typical messy bun.

luckily you had become an expert at quickly getting ready from your time in university, as you were back in time to pull the rolls from the oven, but not before pulling on your apron. you’d be dammed if you got this stunning dress dirty right before this prestigious meeting.

t-5 minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin and you could already hear lots of rustling from the formal dining room. you knocked on the closed doors before bucky opened the door for you.

the men went silent as their gaze rested on you in the doorway.

“the foods ready. buffet style?” your eyes didn’t leave bucky’s pretty blues, too scared to do anything wrong in front of his men.

“that’s perfect, my love,” his hands gravitated to your waist before pulling your body taut against his, one hand moving a stray hair behind your ear before leaning in to whisper. “you look ravishing…”

as he pulled back, you were sure your blush was evident across your cheeks. you tried to hide it behind a smile, shrugging with a shy ‘thanks’ leaving your lips.

“what do you say to my stunning wife, boys?” his hand squeezed your waist once more before turning to the other men, ‘thank you’s being echoed throughout the room as they stood and made their way to the kitchen to make their plates.

in a matter of minutes, all the food was gone. you figured it was best they liked the food, even if you didn’t get to try any of it yourself like you had planned.

you got started on cleaning everything up with earbuds in your ears, starting with the dishes already in the sink from when you were cooking. then, you were sure to place the dishes that the food was in inside the sink for you to clean before starting on wiping the counters, then sweeping, then mopping, and then back to the dishes.

you didn’t realize that bucky had called for a break in the meeting, however. you were in for quite the rude awakening when you felt a pair of hands on your waist, but not the ones you were semi-familiar with.

you turned around with a gasp, shock evident on your face as you tried to piece together whoever this man was. blond hair, blue eyes… definitely not steve though. you knew steve well and had seen him often.

you pulled your earbuds from your ears in attempt to better understand what was going on. his hands were still gripping your sides, but you couldn’t necessarily escape his touch. you were backed against the sink. even if you could fight him, you’d likely lose to his strong grip.

“is the meeting-is it over already?” your voice was so much more cowardly than you’d ever expected yourself to be.

“no, no,” he shook his head. “just a little break, some of the guys were getting antsy.” you leaned back further, trying to create some semblance of space between you. “i figured i’d say a special thank you, on behalf of all of us guys in there.” he let one hand cup the side of your face and neck, his other hand trailing down from your waist, firmly grasping your ass with a sqeeze before you jumped at the invasion.

“i don’t-i’ve got it…”

“john,” he smiled grossly, as if he could convince you to go to bed with him.

“no need for a thanks,” you tried to remind him. “i did this for bucky. for my husband.” your eyebrows rose, trying to emphasize that his boss was also your husband.

“i’m sure he won’t mind you getting a little bit of extra special attention, don’t you?”

then, a growling voice cut through the fear running through your veins.

“i think he might mind.”

you turned to face bucky with wide eyes before facing john, wishing the tears welling in your eyes would just go away.

his hands slowly retracted, stepping back with a chuckle.

“sorry, sir,” he smiled before turning to face your husband. “she was just telling me how she wanted some extra attention, weren’t you, toots?” he tilted his head expectantly.

your mouth opened, nothing leaving in spite of your brain screaming at you. what would bucky do? would he take his side? would he believe you? would he hurt you?

you’ve embarrassed him now… humiliated him in his own home. surely he’ll take action against you for this.

your mind replayed stories your old friends had told you about him. how he would lash out at men that betrayed him. how he never took shit from anyone who showed him any disrespect. how he was the kind of man to shoot first and ask quesitons later.

and now, in a way, you’ve both betrayed and disrespected him. or at least, that’s what he’ll think.

you didn’t even realize tears were flowing down your face until your sobs were interrupted.

“enough!” you finally looked at bucky before his eyes softened for a second before walking closer to you. “go to the room.” he ordered sternly.

“but the dish-”

“i’ll take care of it,” he interrupted gravely, “go. to. the. room.”

“yes, sir,” you nodded and swiftly left the room entirely, collapsing against the door once you had shut it, sobs wracking your body. you held your knees against your chest before trying to regulate your breathing.

he won’t hurt you.

he has to protect his image.

you’ve embarrassed him.

you’re his wife.

you’re his business deal.

you’ve humiliated him.

he’ll hurt you.

you didn’t know how long it had been since the incident.

your sobs had subsided. you had, at some point, moved to your bed. you were still rocking your body back and forth, trying to self sooth.

and then there was a knock at the door.

your body instinctively jumped at the sudden noise, although it wasn’t harsh in any manner, at least not one that you were expecting.

he twisted the knob, slowly opening the door with slow movements.

“i-i’m so sorry,” you began apologizing as soon as he stepped through the threshold into your room. “i swear-i swear i didn’t tell him that. i didn’t even realize he was there, i promise. i wouldn’t lie to you. i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry. please believe me.” your body was still rocking and you didn’t even notice he was as close to you as he was until you saw his hand moving by your head.

automatically, you assumed the absolute worst, your head ducking into your body like a fucking turtle, the meekest squeal leaving your lips mixed with a sob. your arms went over your head protectively, as if a bomb were about to go off.

“sweetheart,” his voice sounded so broken, so torn, so unexpectedly soft.

you finally looked at him for the first time since he came in your room. his flesh hand was holding his metal one as if it were something that could kill. in ways, it was.

“you-there’s no need to…” after looking at him for a second longer, you noticed that his eyes had tears that almost mirrored your own. “i would never, ever lay a hand on you. i’m so sorry for scaring you. i can’t…” he sighed. “i can’t believe i made you believe i’d ever hurt you.”

“i’m sorry,” you pleaded with him once again.

“you have nothing to apologize for,” he hesitated to reach for your hands before settling on simply grabbing a spare pillow. “i came up here to apologize. for my tone earlier… i know john. he never knows his boundaries. i should’ve… you never should’ve been put in that situation. that’s my fault. that’s on me. and i will spend the rest of forever to make it up to you.”

“you don’t have to-”

“no, my love,” he shook his head. “can i-can i hold your hands? please?” you, without hesitation, grabbed his hands yourself. “i need to make it up to you. you’re mine. you’re my wife. it’s my job to protect you, to keep you safe. and to have someone ruin that? to touch what’s mine in my own home? i’m so sorry.” he brought your hands to his lips, pressing at least ten kisses to each hand. he was so gentle and careful it was a good thing you knew better than to think it actually meant anything.

you were surprised, to say the least, at how tender he was being with you.

how could you have ever thought he would hurt you? that he would raise his hand and swing? that he would cause you harm? he was here declaring that he would make up this incident for the rest of eternity when it wasn’t even his doing…

“will you stay with me tonight?” his eyes lit up at the request.

“are you sure you want that?” he became a touch more reserved. “i don’t know if it’s a good idea since you were worried i would…” his voice trailed off.

“i’m sure,” you nodded before scooting over in the bed.

sure, your marriage was arranged and didn’t stem from true love. you may not have talked outside of when absolutely necessary. you might have even been terrified of him at one point.

but now, the thought of forever with bucky barnes didn’t seem half bad.

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distantdarlings · 21 days ago

Text

WORSHIP // t. nott

RATING: R / 4.5K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader Insert

+ SUMMARY - *Requested, based on this* After Theodore Nott catches you drawing him in the middle of class, he feels he deserves to see your art up close and personal.

+ WARNINGS - SMUT! Fingering (f!receiving), slight dubcon? (Reader definitely wants it, it’s just not super obvious at first), soft!Dom Theo, sub!reader, Theo’s a bit pushy, fem!reader, slight nipple play, teasing, language, not fully proofread (lmk if I missed any)

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

I Feel It Coming - The Weeknd, Daft Punk

- - -

He was a god. Or as close to one as a human could possibly come to looking like one.

You had found yourself worshipping him daily, just not in the most mundane way. Your form of worship required a quill and parchment, in which you traced the curves of his cheeks and the strong bridge of his nose. Only, it wasn’t with your fingers or lips. It was with the quill and parchment.

You’d spent hours surveying him in classes, between them, at lunch… It was one of the only things that got you through each day, expecting to see his carved features.

Your knee would bob up and down, your fingers would tremble, and your teeth would punch holes into the metal grip of your quill. It was pathetic, really. But, you couldn’t help it.

The days he didn’t show up to class felt like hell. It felt like you were falling through the deepest riff of boredom you’d ever experienced.

Now, as you waited for him to arrive, you settled your things out on the desk before you just as you always did. You had a routine that you clung to that was reserved only for Theodore Nott.

A few breaths later, Theo was walking through the door with his friends trailing behind him.

His hair was perfectly tousled just as it always was; his leather, sharply monogrammed schoolbag was thrown lazily over his shoulder; his uniform sweater was tossed over his arm, whilst his white button-up was only partially fastened, exposing a bit of a lean chest. Beauty marks kissed the skin of his neck, traveling gently upward and onto his face. He was truly a specimen.

You exhaled shakily, inconspicuously preparing yourself to begin sketching. He glanced around the room, salt-spray eyes trailing over every face in the class until coming to rest on you.

As he came to look at you, you did a double take, reclaiming eye contact with him just as soon as you’d broken it. A second or two passed of staring that could have been considered rude and pure panic flowing through your body before he glanced away again.

You blinked a bit, seemingly snapping out of some powerful stupor that only clouded your brain whenever he was around. How stupid.

Despite the intensity of your awkwardness, Theo settled in at his desk as if you hadn’t just gawked at him only moments before.

And as he settled in, you did as well.

The professor entered the classroom from the rear entrance, announcing where the class would be picking up from the day before.

Sounds of rustling papers and thudding book covers echoed about the stone walls, but you only focused on Theo.

Your fingers gripped the quill they’d become so accustomed to as you began to sketch.

Gentle lines. Soft strokes of ink that barely held any space on the paper, but would eventually bear more weight. Your wrist flicked delicately in order to master the movements intended to convey perfection. At least, the way you interpreted it.

There were a few times when Theo looked up and managed to catch your eyes but, like earlier, it seemed to be a passing glance.

Disappointment would flood your gut every time he refocused on something else. Though he didn’t know you, you knew him, and naivety fueled fantasies that one day he’d truly see you and want you.

Your hand clenched tighter around your quill, annoyed by your situation. You made one, strong line and Theo’s nose appeared on your parchment. It was an exact copy. You didn’t need to practice anymore. You were able to replicate him perfectly because you drew him nearly every day and studied him on the days you didn’t. All things considered, you likely knew Theo’s face better than your own.

“I asked if you were still with us?” You heard the words faintly as if you were underwater. Then someone cleared their throat. Your eyes remained on your parchment. The same person cleared their throat again, in a much more exaggerated way.

You glanced up, catching the professor staring directly at you. A quick survey of the room told you that every student had their eyes pinned on you as well—including Theo.

Subconsciously, you slid your books over your parchment and nodded. A deep flush poured into your cheeks.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry,” you apologized. “Just doodling.”

“Well…just as long as you’re doodling and listening, okay?”

You responded with a small, forced smile. Though you didn’t dare look back up, you could tell Theo was still gazing in your direction. You couldn’t keep the nerves from picking up and manifesting themselves in all physical ways. Your left set of fingernails picked at the dead skin around their edges, your knee bounced again, and your right hand-picked at the dried skin on your bottom lip.

Only a few more moments passed until the professor called the end of class. You gathered your books and parchment up in one fell swoop and shoved them all into your bag. Embarrassment still shone on your face like a beacon of light as you made your way toward the exit.

***

You made your way through the halls of the castle you'd come to adore, trying your best to push all of the shame from your mind. Every time you thought of what happened, another round of hot blood would fill your cheeks. You knew you were red as a tomato but there was nothing you could do about it. You just hoped your hair covered your face enough for no one to notice.

By the time you reached the Slytherin common room, your hands were burning with how tightly you'd been clutching your bag. The leather had bit roughly into your soft palms, causing indentations along the flesh. It looked as if you had sutures wound through your hands. Amusedly, you traced your thumb down them—

“You’re in my History of Magic class, right?”

You jumped and spun around, your bag swinging and bumping against your back.

Now, as if all of your fantasies had come to fruition, you were standing right before Theodore Nott.

Fuck, had he always been this tall? The lean boy towered over you, so much so that he was tilting his face down to look at you. Your head barely cleared the base of his throat. You were enthralled. Your lips hung open stupidly.

“Er, yes, I am,” you chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I, uh—”

“You're all good,” he chuckled, shrugging slightly. “I was just curious what you'd been sketching in class.”

Suddenly, you were regretting all of the times you'd been cursing your body for filling your cheeks with red, hot blush just moments ago. You honestly wished for that sensation to return as your entire face drained of all blood and turned pale white.

“You—er, I was…,” you trailed off stupidly, begging your brain to come up with some kind of quick excuse. “Just, like, little sketches of—” a thought appeared in your head— “plants. For my Herbology class.”

You leaned down to the armchair your bag lay against and popped the buckle open. With shaking hands, you selected the pieces of parchment you'd been working on the day before and presented them to him.

He accepted them with gentle, yet strong hands. His eyebrows raised as he scanned the piece. “Wow, this is great.”

You could've died on the spot.

“Thank you,” you laughed breathlessly, awkwardly clasping your hands together before you.

“Really, this is some of the best artwork I've ever seen,” he smiled, handing it back to you.

You took the pieces of parchment back with a blissful smile and turned back to your bag.

“But I know it's not what you were working on today,” he said.

Your fingers paused their work in shoving the artwork back into your bag. You glanced over your shoulder.

“I'm sorry?” you asked, shocked at his bluntness.

“I know that's not what you were working on today because I saw you working on that piece yesterday at lunch. Today, you were working on something smaller.”

You felt as if you couldn't breathe. An awkward chuckle breezed past your lips.

“Can I see what you were working on today? When the professor called on you? When you covered it up with your books?” His eyes never left yours. They were demanding and soft all at the same time.

“Oh, that was…that wasn't anything special. It was just some lines and scribbles—”

“Were you drawing me?” he asked.

“Er, no! It was—”

“Please don't lie to me, sweetheart,” he said, his voice suddenly an octave lower. Sweetheart? Merlin, what the hell had you just gotten yourself into?

“I don't…”

“You were drawing a picture of me in class today, just like you have been every single day for the entire semester,” he said. “And I want to see them. All of them.”

“Why?” you whimpered, the useless word being the only thing your voice could force out.

“Because when someone watches me so intently every day, I want to know why. If you're drawing me, I feel I'm entitled to see that which I'm being a muse for.”

He had a point. Fuck.

“Okay, sweetheart, you’re gonna take me to your dorm and show me these drawings, alright?” he asked, his voice so painfully gentle.

His hand reached out and he selected a small strand of hair that slipped from behind your ear. He tugged on it gently, massaging it between his thumb and forefinger, memorizing the texture of it.

Your breath shuddered as he looked back at you and maintained searing eye contact as he tucked the stray hairs back behind your ear.

“What are you waiting for?” he murmured.

“What?”

“I asked what you were waiting for. I asked you to do something for me,” he said, seeming almost bored with the conversation. “Walk.”

You nodded slowly, immediately obeying his demands. In your mind, your first interaction with Theo would not have involved your drawings or the boy before you taking over the entire thing.

Theo watched as you turned away from him, eyes facing the staircase to the girls’ dormitory. Your breath pulsed in deep motions.

“Er, what about—?”

“I’ll get your bag,” he interrupted. “I’ve asked you to walk.” His voice was soft but stern.

You sighed shakily, willing yourself to take the first step forward. The fire crackled in the corner and covered the slight sounds his shoes made behind you. He moved silently, like a whisper in the evening. Like a shadow. A chill erupted across your arms.

Your feet carried you up the staircase, your mind barely forcing your body to move. If you stopped for even a second, you were sure you’d fall back right into the boy prowling behind you.

“Theodore, do you think—”

“Call me Theo,” he interrupted, placing a gentle hand at the small of your back as the both of you reached the staircase landing. A small gasp escaped your lips at the contact.

He stopped beside you and looked down at you. You gaped up at him stupidly, enamored and waiting for further instructions. You couldn't be sure why on earth you were listening so intently. Perhaps…?

“Theo,” you corrected. “Am I under the influence of the Imperius Curse?”

He smiled just a bit as if your accusations were amusing, though they weren't in the slightest. “Why don't you tell me? Try and walk down those stairs and see what happens. I think you'll find that I'm not controlling you at all.”

You looked behind you and weighed your options. Of course, you'd never been under the Imperius Curse before so you weren't exactly sure what it’d feel like. Would you have even been able to question him if you had been?

The fact that you were able to weigh your options right now alluded that you weren’t under any influences, but you couldn’t deny that you would have assumed your resistance toward him would have been a bit stronger. Obviously not.

You turned back to face him. His eyes hadn’t seemed to have left you at all. You swallowed thickly—desperate for him to either drop this whole thing or give you another instruction because the eye contact was driving you crazy.

“I won't ask again,” he spoke. A pause filled the air, his mouth forming a small frown. “Take me to your dorm and show me those drawings.” So gentle.

You nodded and walked past him. Once again, his footfalls were silent as he fell into step behind you. The feeling of not being able to sense him was eerie. Simultaneously, the knowledge that he was there was riveting. It felt as if you were being chased by some ancient creature. Like your body was in survival mode and trying to flee. Yet, seemingly involuntarily, tingles erupted in your abdomen each time he whispered a direction.

You stopped in front of your dormitory door. When you didn’t move after a few seconds, he reached past your frozen body and turned the handle.

The door creaked open, revealing a mostly dark room, save the enchanted stove in the center of the floor which emanated small waves of cozy heat.

Again, he placed his hand against your back, urging you forward. As you crossed the threshold of the room, you came to a realization—one that seemed to make the tingling in your abdomen ten times stronger.

It was just you and Theo in this room. That could’ve meant nothing but just the way he spoke had chills running down your arms. Surely, he meant to speak to you in that way. You knew it wasn’t just the way he sounded because you’d heard him plenty of times in class. Today, his voice was softer and lower and demanding. It was a far cry from his typical light, almost bored words. Today, he sounded purposeful.

Surely, it meant something. It had to. He shut the door.

“Where are they, darling?” he asked. Again with the pet names… Your breath caught in your throat.

“Er, they’re over here,” you whispered, leading him toward the leatherbound art portfolio crammed between your bed and bedside table.

You fell into a squat, sliding your collection of pieces out from their hiding spot and displaying them on the bed.

One by one, hundreds of sketches of the boy looming behind you slid across the satin duvet. His drawn eyes pierced through you, threatening to reveal every private thought you'd had since you'd begun creating these portraits.

Theo’s breath seemed to halt just as yours had moments ago. He leaned around you and pressed his fingers against the thick parchment. He traced the outlines of his own face and body, careful to avoid touching the medium itself, so as not to smudge anything. Your heart swelled as he looked at them.

Both panic and excitement vibrated in your body with each touch he placed to your works. No one had ever seen these before, especially not Theo.

“Why do you draw me?” he asked, eyes not leaving the parchment.

You both sat in silence for a few minutes while you debated your answer. There were a thousand reasons why you drew him—desire unfortunately being one of the main ones, but inspiration being another. You weren't sure if you could answer straightly.

“Er…” You racked your brain for a response.

His eyes turned back to you. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m sorry. I don't know.”

“Do you want me?” he asked, eyes never leaving yours. You nearly choked on your spit.

“What—er… what exactly do you mean? Do I want you to what?” you sputtered awkwardly.

“You know what I meant,” he said. Just like earlier, his hand reached out to select a stray piece of hair that hung next to your cheek. His fingers tugged gently on it as he seemed to inspect it. Only, this time, he didn't push it back behind your ear.

Slowly, he allows the curl of hair to settle against his palm, situated up against his thumb. The rest of his fingers press gently against your head just behind your ear, his pinky easing itself up and down the curvature of your skull in a soothing manner.

Your hands are shaking; you can't stop them. It’s so impossibly difficult to maintain eye contact with him, knowing that his steel blue irises are going to be burning their typical holes directly through your cheeks.

Despite his lidded, easy gaze, your heart rate skyrocketed every time he looked at you.

When you did nothing, his other hand came up to the opposite side of your head to mirror the movements of the first. Your lips parted as a blush blossomed within your stomach.

“Do you want me?” he repeated, all but whispering.

It felt like hours passed before you were finally able to will your lips to form words, though—in reality—it was only a few seconds.

“Yes,” you finally said, nodding your head desperately.

Theo wasted no time pressing his lips directly to yours. Your eyes widened in shock for only a few seconds before they slipped shut, and the kiss deepened.

Theo tasted just as you would always have imagined. Echoes of pine, rain, and even a bit of lavender billowed against your cheeks with each breath he took.

His hands held your head right where he wanted it, allowing him to maintain full control of the contact.

The uselessness of your body was apparent. In an attempt to combat that, you willed your hands to rest lightly on his chest. The warmth beneath your fingertips was reminiscent of dreams you'd had of him. Dreams where his lips were on yours and your hands were pressed to his skin, and the similarities between them and current reality were not lost on you.

His hands dropped from your face to your hips. He pulled you even closer to his body, his lips devouring yours, his scent all-consuming. Your back arched against him, deliciously molding into him like a piece of the earth. A gasp erupted between your lips.

“Draw me,” Theo sighed, pulling away from you. You stared at him, breath coming out in hard pants.

“What?” you gasped.

“Draw me right now,” he demanded. One hand still held you against him with the opposite reaching up to touch your hair once more. “I want you to draw me right now and let me watch the process.”

You weighed your options, eyes flicking away from his and then meeting them again. This pattern repeated itself a few times before you finally took a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down for the first time since this whole interaction started.

You weren't going to allow him to have this much control over you.

With shaking hands, you pulled away from him and turned to select one of the sketchbooks and charcoal pencils off of your desk.

He settled himself onto your bed, straightbacked and staring through your soul. You swallowed thickly as you selected the chair against your desk and willed yourself to calm down.

Drawing Theo had become a daily thing for you so—besides the obvious—there was no reason for you to be so nervous. The two of you accidentally made eye contact constantly throughout class, so why was this different? At least, that's what you tried to convince yourself of.

This was different because you were so close to him that you could see every breath, every shudder, every blink, every beat of his heart… you were now privy to every detail your art had been lacking in the past.

Everything that was missing was now able to be added. It was incredible. You could hardly contain your excitement.

But, after building yourself up and convincing your fingers that the shakes were not necessary, Theo stood from his spot on the bed as soon as your pencil touched paper.

“Er,” you started. “Theo, models have to stay put.”

He walked around behind you, staring at your paper. His hands rested on your shoulders.

“I know you don’t need to see me to draw me,” he murmured. His lips caressed over the curvature of your ear. You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your flesh.

“I want you to draw me and…,” he stopped to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the junction between your neck and shoulder. You bit back a moan. “…if you stop, I will make you regret it. Does that sound okay?”

His hands slid down your arms, warm and gentle. You nodded slowly—heat beginning to pool between your thighs. A shudder passed through you.

“What if—?”

“No, sweetheart,” he interrupted. “Just draw me and don’t stop.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of yours and positioned it against the piece of parchment. His thumb brushed against your knuckles as he pushed you to begin sketching.

For a moment, you did nothing and he did nothing, then his lips pressed once more to your neck as soon as you began drawing.

You shuddered but forced your hand to keep moving. A familiar portrait—his lidded eyes, his sharp nose—began to appear before you just like it had so many times before. This was so usual for you, it was almost comfortable.

But then there was Theo—lips at your neck, seductive words in your ears, fingers slowly tracing down your arms.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he whispered. “Keep going.”

His hands slipped to your waist past the wooden chair’s back. His finger sent shockwaves up your spine. Your hand shook around the pencil, mussing up a few of your lines. It didn’t matter, though, you still saw Theo. His features were much too familiar.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to,” he said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. You nodded, biting your lip to hide any embarrassing sounds.

His fingers, wrapped around your front, began to split your shirt buttons apart one at a time. Only, every movement was painfully slow. You almost wanted to shout at him to hurry up.

Once your shirt was completely open, he let the two sides linger for a moment there—not pulling them apart, not closing them back. Beneath those thin layers of fabric lay a whole new world of intimacy for him to explore, but it seemed that he was waiting for something.

Finally, you perked up enough to ask. “Why’d you stop?” Your knee bounced nervously.

“Why'd you stop?”

You looked down and, sure enough, your hand had ceased all movements and the portrait of Theo was only half finished.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered, resuming your piece. With each new inch of skin he touched, it was getting harder and harder to focus on something as minute as drawing a picture.

Then, as soon as you began working again, he resumed his teasing. At this point, he slipped your shirt apart and let it fall down over your shoulders. He allowed the sleeves to bunch around your elbows where they were bent against the chair's arms.

Your heart raced as his warm breath fanned across your naked skin. Thank Merlin the bra you wore was half-decent—all black and simple lace.

When his fingers made contact with your flesh, you could have sworn your heart stopped. The simple contact had your eyes fluttering, blurring your vision.

“Don't stop,” he growled, plunging his hands into your bra and massaging your breasts. You whimpered and continued your art. This was much harder than you ever could have imagined.

His hands found the clip that rested on the front of your bra and expertly unhooked it. Your breasts sprung free—hard and sore from his toying. A soft moan left you as his hands continued to touch one of your most intimate areas.

Then, as your pencil came to the curves of his neck, his right abandoned your chest and slid down your exposed stomach. Air caught in your throat.

His free hand slowly but determinedly tugged the edge of your skirt up to the top of your thighs. The uniform fabric pooled there awkwardly, showing off your tights and thin panties.

“Fuck, you look as good as I imagined,” he sighed against your ear. One hand is still on your breast, one hand sliding itself between your thighs.

By this point, you'd finished your basic sketch and, typically, would start to go back over everything a bit darker. Then, you'd shade all the appropriate spots. Then, the bell would ring. Typically. But this wasn't a typical thing.

His fingers made contact with your core through your panties. The sounds that left you now were much more shameless—wanton and desperate as he acted out everything you'd imagined in your most private moments.

As your pencil traced the edge of his cheekbones, he slid your undergarments to the side and pushed two fingertips through your mounting slick. Your head fell back and his shoulder was there to catch it.

His lips pressed back to your neck, not caring so much now that you weren't drawing. He seemed satisfied enough with how far you'd gotten. Or he was just too focused on your pleasure.

When he finally sank his fingers into you, your moans became high-pitched and your hips began to rock against his hand.

He groaned against your flesh, mimicking your breathy sounds. His left hand continued to pinch your nipple about, stimulating what he couldn't with his right.

Between his tongue on your neck, his fingers on your breast, his hand against your core, and his sporadically whispered words, you knew you wouldn't last long against him. Still, you forced yourself to try.

With a weak chest, you leaned forward and made your hand resume its previous work. You finished his cheekbones—your hips still rolling against him; you finished his ears—your lips parted in a whine; you finished his throat—your eyes began to roll back.

Then he was sucking a particularly deep bruise against an especially sensitive spot on your neck and you were cumming hard around his hand. Your spend pooled against his palm and your legs.

The pressure from your hands crushed the tip of the charcoal pencil against the paper, creating a big, black blotch across his cheek. It formed a sort of scar against his unblemished skin.

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of your face and collapsed onto the parchment, blurring another bit of the sketch. “Fuck.”

“What is it?” he asked, gently retrieving his fingers from within you. “What’s wrong?”

“The picture,” you whined. “It's ruined.”

He leaned around you to take a peek and, upon seeing the disaster that had become your art, he laughed aloud.

“No, darling,” he whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to your head. “I think this is your best one yet.”

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