#it’s very early on so maybe there will be something done with this concept but I doubbbt it. I would be very pleasantly surprised | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

vatelixx · 2 months ago

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On the concept of ‘want’, (part 1):

Spencer Reid x afab!BAU!reader (written with early-ish seasons Spencer in mind)

part two here.

SMUT!! (and fluff, and aftercare because im not a total hedonist), allusions to both Spencer and Reader being switches (but he’s mostly just down bad), autistic Spencer (the way it should be), mean reader (to everyone but him), reader has a very very high IQ when it comes to everything but a pretty genius— Spencer just wants that cookie so fucking bad.

Warnings: sub spencer (but also not entirely; he talks about human anatomy as he destroys her), maaaaaybe slight corruption kink (what? who wrote that there???), mentions of prior bullying and insecurity, first time (for Spencer, yess devirgin that hot nerd!!— do you think the BAU will get him a cake after?), brief mentions of past hypersexuality for reader, kinda rlly domestic. Some undertones of degradation but predominantly praise. Begging, crying (pussy so good he cried), etc etc

w.c: 5k (I feed)

a/n: Spencer’s first time getting fucked, my first time writing smut (we’re both going through it here). I’ve been watching too much Criminal Minds recently, so i’ve reverted back to my tumblr roots (im home i’m home). This is a new acc so like…. hi!!!

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Right person, right time. It’s a concept that Spencer Reid is more than aware of. Define luck, at surface level, it’s a made-up hypothesis, idealistic, fantastical. Conjured up to aid the desperate (or the delusional). It’s something he refused to humour, obstinate to the notion, well, that was until you came spitballing into his life, sharp features, sharper tongue. You could cut with your words alone, a weapon to the BAU, jagged and fast-thinking, and so entirely unattainable. Rorschach tests, and an endless sea of profilers, it doesn’t matter— he’s not sure anyone is ever capable of truly pinpointing you.

Rocky start— after you became a permanent member to the team, it took months to coerce you into dropping your guard. A year and 14 days, to be exact.

But, it was possible. Hardened words and blunt comments shifted into something more with time. A gravitational pull, perhaps, that led to evolution— you, softer with him, more tender than you’ve ever showcased before.

Maybe it was that night when he told you about highschool, about what they did to him, boys like him, who were too intellectual for their own good. Different, in every sense of the word. Bullying at such a young, impressionable age can have prominent effects, chronic stress inflicted on an underdeveloped brain, they tied him to goal posts, stripped him naked, endless torment that he still carries with him now. Maybe that’s why you lowered your defenses. Put down the sword.

And sure, he never expected anything, nor asked for anything. He was definite that he wouldn’t get to experience cliche-dating. Longing glances and anticipated moments. It’s not like he was ever the most appealing candidate, too nervous, too neurodivergent. It’s hard to grow out of the mentality that no, everyone isn’t making fun of you, not when it consumed the entirety of his adolescence. That you can walk into a room, and not be seen, targeted, as an outcast. He’s just different. But he’s also human, and the chemicals in his brain do make him want.

You apparently. Because, you looked at him softly once, and he was done. Ruined. Gone for good. Or, in Morgan’s personal opinion, whipped.

And illogically, you wanted him too. That wasn’t ever part of the equation.

But theres a pattern now— dates every weekend. Movies, cafes, museums, an endless onslaught of you. Because somehow, thanks to luck, you reciprocated. He’ll never understand why, you’re too beautiful (it’s a hazard), but he tries. He tries.

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December. A haze of christmas markets and blanketing coldness. You kiss him outside and he thinks he might be dying. You make him burn cold. He’s a logical person, so obviously he’s aware that he’s only freezing because your hands are shoved in his pockets, a desperate bid to seek warmth, but regardless, it’s more than he ever expected.

He laughs against your lips, fingers gripping the front of your coat as he draws you backwards so that you’re resting against a wall. “Mm..” he hums, “You should kiss me more often.��

Everyone knows. The entire team is aware of this, an unspoken agreement that your lingering moments and aimless touching are not platonic in the slightest. You work with profilers, secrets are never quite effective. Everyone knows, but it’s taboo, something that needs to be left undisturbed. Do they expect you to break him? Does he? Maybe, maybe it would be worth it— to hurt for you, because it’s always been you. He’ll take anything, he’s not greedy. He’ll live off scraps if he has to, anything to satiate this want that burns solely for you.

“Actually.. you should just always be kissing me,” he suggests, tone soft, “Every day of the week. All the time. And—“ he laughs, “You should also stop stealing body warmth. It’s rude. Hypothermia usually occurs when body temperature dips to around 95F, oh oh but there are so many factors to consider—“

“Is this you trying to imply you’re cold?” you ask.

“Perhaps. Or maybe i’m implying you should be working harder to warm me up.”

You’ve grown soft, he thinks. He shouldn’t be allowed to get away with this level of affection. But its okay, you justify, mostly because it’s him. Spencer, and his pretty smile, and strange habits (sitting cross legged on tables, drinking coffee with excessive sugar, endless facts and a plethora of soft yearning glances at you when you’re interrogating— as if you’re not tearing an unsub to pieces). It’s terrifying, constant eggshells, because you can’t hurt him. Not like the others, distant fragments of your past.

You laugh in response to his comment, admiring the sight of him: flushed, with swollen lips and dilated eyes. He deserves to be like this, so thoroughly assured that despite all odds, you’re invested. All cards on the table. “You have a lot of requests, boy genius.”

He smiles boyishly. You’re hard lines, sure, a blade that can draw blood, but somehow, somehow, he’s always left unscathed. “Alright,” he answers, “You want requests? Here’s one, stay the night. Come over, stay over, i’ll cook breakfast and try not to burn it— and, and you can have the good side of the bed.”

“Spence,” you mutter, because of course there’s an underlying intention to ‘staying over’ and you're trying to be good here. To not let this fall into your past mistakes of sex and inevitable self-inflicted disgust. A cyclical cycle that clings to your skin. Everything is so new to him, the intimacy, the affection, and it’s nice being able to witness it— to see his reactions to innocuous touches, always disbelieving that he’s capable of this.

Fresh-eyes, so untainted to the sharpness of modern ‘love’.

You cup his face, god, under the dim shadows of the streetlight he’s beautiful. It’s a little alarming to be honest. More so disheartening really, because despite how much you remind him, he never believes you— obstinately refusing your compliments, as if you’d ever mock him. No, he’s different. He’s tender and disarming, and sometimes it feels unholy to touch him with calloused hands.

But, to Spencer, there is nothing unholy to this; the second you touch him, the entire universe crashes down into a singular moment.

“Just stay the night,” he reaffirms. It’s taken him over a month to get to this point, to be able to voice his wants, to comprehend his wants. Now, his thumb traces its way down the side of your face, tangible, real. “And tomorrow morning, there’ll be coffee and pancakes and—“ he laughs, “And there won’t be any regrets. I promise.”

You’re looking at him, wide-eyed and slightly disbelieving (because he’s somehow stumbled through the minefield of you without any consequences). He leans forward, his forehead resting against yours. “Don’t make me beg. I will beg.”

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To confirm, he makes you incautious, irrational, willing to blatantly disregard any sort of control. Of course you end up at his apartment; the moment he mentioned begging, you were already half-way down the street.

Spencer’s place is… well, it’s everything you’d expect of him. Scattered novels adorning the floor, a mess of untidy thoughts, neglected papers on science, endless open textbooks left half-abandoned for other pursuits. It’s so him, clean but discombobulated.

He wants to apologize, make excuses for the lack of order, he probably should. He doesn’t do that though. He only crosses the room, stopping when he’s standing right in front of you, just gazing down. He has no idea what’s to come— for once, there are no patterns, no statistics he can reference.

So, he reaches for you, fingers tugging at the edges of your jacket. “Arms. Up,” he instructs and god, it’s a stupid order, but you follow it without any protest. He folds it over the couch, abandoned. Putting it back on alludes to leaving, and he’s hopeless enough to never want you to leave.

His hands then gravitate back to you and he starts to tug aimlessly at the material of your shirt. It’s been raining, and the fabric is soaked. “Hm,” he hums, “Off. Take it off.”

You laugh at that. Straight to the point. You don’t follow his orders, because one was certainly enough, and you’ve never been the type to obey blindly. Instead, you grip his waist, drive him back towards the nearest surface. An end table, some books go clattering, light damage, they’ll survive. His response is a gasp, a hitch of the breath.

“I was promised the good side of the bed, breakfast, pancakes. But sex? Hm, did you invite me over just to get in my pants? I’m wounded, Reid.” you mutter, pressing a series of soft kisses along the curvature of his jaw.

“No! No,” he retorts, breathless, “I was going to get you some comfortable clothes to change into. Damp clothes breed bacteria. You made this dirty,” Adding, “And not in the way I was concerned about.” under his breath.

You roll your eyes, “Oh, here we go—“ sure, you have the experience he lacks, but you’ve been on your best behavior. Dirty? That’s an insult to the exhausting self-restraint you’ve upheld recently.

“Yes— i’m the dirty one here, clearly.” you scoff, “Just casually corrupting you,” You tug him away from the end-table because you don’t want him bruised in any way, shape or form (it’s actually distressing; when you’re working, you seem hellbent on making sure no one even thinks about laying a hand on him. Unsubs be damned.)

Ego-centric, completely independent, individualistic until he came along.

You push him back against the couch, watching as he stumbles, as he falls. For a minute he just lies there, looking up at you with hazy eyes— pupils dilated and lips parted on a half-pained gasp.

And it’s a sight to see, the brilliant prodigy, the young genius, his normally-composed features now twisted into something stricken. His hands tighten around the material of the couch and he lets out a sound that’s a cross between a whine and a groan.

“Oh—“ that’s just a clear-cut moan, “You can definitely definitely keep corrupting me, in fact I endorse it. Completely.”

“3 PHDS, 2 B.A’s and you’re currently asking me to corrupt you? I don’t know, Doctor Reid, that’s certainly very forward,” you say, moving to sit on his lap, aware that you really should entertain this spot more often, even if you’re at severe risk of deflating.

Deflating. God. When did it come to this?

He laughs, “You’re the only person in this entire world that makes me act without a single coherent thought,” IQ abolished. “So yeah,” he murmurs, fingers tracing mindless patterns across the exposed strip of skin above your waistline. “Defini-definitively corrupt me.”

It’s taken so much to get to this point. So much to unpack, to understand, from Spencer’s perspective. There’s a lifetime of bullying that he has to dismantle, and sometimes he still anticipates the punchline when you kiss him— the biting laughs, not entirely dissimilar to school, when someone would belittle him, fake being his friend just for entertainment value.

So, when you stumble into the bedroom, when you remove his shirt, he knows this is improvement. He’s fighting this internal battle, unsure on how he should act: coy or defiant. Both, really. He wants to cover himself up, to pretend like you don’t disarm him, to fight and fight until you make him bleed. Anything, he’ll take anything from you.

“You are so so pretty,” you mutter when he’s sprawled out across the bed. You’ve never been someone to resort to praise; sex had always been cold and clinical, something to relieve stress, to undermine the burden of work, and the endless weight of sanguinary. But now? If he is the eye of the storm, then you’ll happily commit to the chaos of this.

“Careful, you’ll make me inherit a disorder here.” he mutters. Narcism— he’s the least likely to ever develop such symptoms. “Or cry. I could cry, it’s a potential. Maybe break-down?”

“Or,” he adds, his hands tracing up towards your shoulder blades. “All of the above. The trifecta of issues. It’s very likely.”

He rolls over on top, you’re down to just your lingerie now, pretty lace contrasting against your skin. Removing your clothes had been a whole ordeal, he’s fairly certain he almost died; you’re the epitome of beautiful, and he’s not sure how he ended up with everything when he was so resolute, silently accepting, he would always obtain nothing.

“I want to kiss you, but I don’t know, I feel like my body has lost the ability to function at the moment.” he breathes out.

“You should definitely kiss me,” you confirm, posing it as a choice, one that he has any say over— when in reality, youre already tugging him closer. Lips meeting lips. It’s not sane how the world fades into a nebulous haze the moment your mouths connect; time remains constant, logistically, nothing has changed. But it’s just so much that for a moment you doubt the concept of existence, doubt everything but him.

Genius falling for genius. Only you could laugh when he traces molecules into your skin. Spelling out words with elements: Livermorium, Uranium. LV U, it might not be an exact replica of the three worded phrase, but it certainly gets the point across.

“Spence—“ you bite into his lip, tugging the soft tissue between your teeth.

He groans, whimpers, pulls you closer, eliminating every infinitesimal distance between, slotting his hips against yours. He draws away from your mouth, lips leaving a trail of kisses down your neck as he reaches for your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours and pinning it against the bed. His free one is now wandering, slipping beneath your panties to touch.

“Do you know how much I studied about human anatomy after you first kissed me?”

“Weeks.” he answers when you respond with a muffled groan. Your hands are on his back now, tracing the journey of his spine. He’s in over his head, but there’s so much want, so much he wants to do but never thought he would be capable of. And oh, when he begins to draw circles against your clit, slow experimental halos, those soft touches of yours evolve into grasping, gripping. By the time he’s got a finger slotted inside, he’s fairly certain he’s being scratched. Nail indents and faint white lines, souvenirs.

“I know about every erogenous zone the human body possesses, every single one.” He says, because whilst he might lack in physical experience, he has enough intellect to memorize placement, biology. Plus, he’s a fast learner. His finger bends, and both of you moan.

“Spence— fuck, feels good.” you gasp, tangled hands clutching tighter, tighter again until your knuckles are white and you’re trembling.

The human body is something of a fascination to him; the way it reacts, how each nerve and ligament can respond to even the most tentative of touches. But you aren’t every human, you are you, and he has an insatiable desire to discover and catalog every single response your body gives.

He adds another finger, slowly, eyes fixed on your face, gauging the reaction. When he curls both digits, a sharp exhale is your response. “I’m convinced I’ve discovered new anatomy facts in the last few months, just because of you.”

Maybe it’s not fair that he’s so good. First times are supposed to be fumbling and awkward, a mess of hormones and inexperience. To say you haven’t been touched like this before is a severe understatement. The meaningless sex, the onslaught of bodies doesn’t measure up to him, the way he’s so focused on how you respond, on what your body enjoys— it would be endearing (and it is!), but you're currently too preoccupied to voice such a notion.

“Doing so good, holy shit—“ you mutter, blissed out beyond comprehension. You're making art on his back, only vaguely aware of the pain. Though when you realize you’ve scarred his skin, you're drawing away, moving to tangle your hand in his hair instead. But Spencer doesn’t even care, doesn’t even register the inflictions; he likes the physical marks you leave behind, a tangible remnant of all you do to him.

And sure, he’d laugh, usually, at your responses. But it’s hard to laugh, when his own ability to form any coherent sound has been completely destroyed. He’s a mess, his breathing shaky, and his brain is a constant buzz of fragmented musings consisting of you, you, you.

He draws his fingers out, earning a discernible groan, maybe a fuck you (which he does intend to do). But right now, he’s already slotting his face between your thighs, removing those soaked, ruined, panties of yours. He doesn’t have a single thing to compare it to. But he already knows this is his favorite place to be, and he’s fairly certain he’ll be spending most nights between your thighs, learning and memorizing every reaction and noise, each movement, and the ways to repeat them.

He runs his tongue along your clit, savoring just how wet you are, a mess that he can bury his face into. You’re looking down at him with something akin to shock now, and he can only laugh, blow air against your clit, then drag his tongue back over the sensitive bud, drawing it into his mouth to suck.

His movements are tentative at first, unpractised, but soon gaining confidence. He doesnt need to do this, you're aware— you could take him now. And yet, hes here, between your thighs for no reason other than want. Your reaction is visceral, because it’s always been about efficiency in the past, quick touches to get you there before the other person can derive their own pleasure from the act.

He’s not like that. God, hes not like that at all.

“Oh,” is all you can say, gripping his hair down to the root, instructing each movement until he gains incentive, finding repeat patterns that your body reacts to. Then, you can only arch and moan, noises filtered out into the air. He’s back to opening you up now, two deft fingers pressed inside, working diligently to tear you apart.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say to me? Oh?” he retorts.

“Shut up,” you huff, “Put that mouth of yours to work.”

“Mhm— I plan to. God, you’re so perfect.” he mutters, voice distorted, muffled. “That’s it—“ he fights the urge to explain exactly what’s occurring in your body every time his fingers abuse that spot. Instead, he keeps his mouth busy.

He’s certain he’s memorized most areas of your body from years of pining, and that’s what brings him an unrepentant sense of satisfaction. Because he was memorizing your body, you, long before he even got the chance to touch or taste you.

“Wanna stay here,” he says, and he’s being petulant now, because there’s something so good about being reduced to movements. To follow the pattern, to take care of your body, mindless to anything else but you. Pussy-drunk, to put it less eloquently.

“Shit,” you buck up against his mouth, watching as he buries his face entirely into you, as he replaces his fingers with his tongue, nose bumping bumping your clit, consuming his senses entirely.

“Use my face, yeah. ‘M all yours anyway.”

“Fuck, fuck fuck— Spence. Gonna cum—“

When you fall apart, inevitable, he doesn’t stop— not until you’re boneless and spent beneath him. Back arching, stars burning through closed eyes. Pretty constellations that have you blissed out beyond belief. The pleasure is white-hot, feverish in intensity.

And then he’s moving, shifting his body back over you. He’s all soft touches and languid kisses against your mouth, not bothering to break contact as he settles himself fully over you, the weight of his hips pressing into yours. He’s hard, dick pushing up against his boxers, his sexual libido had always been low until you came into his life. Now, his wants seem to fight for release constantly.

“My turn, I believe.” he grins, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Not that you have to, of course. It’s not an obligation, uh— more so a beg?”

“Of course it’s an obligation,” he goes to protest, to say you don’t owe him anything, so you sigh. “A thankyou, maybe?”

Fumbling hands, still shaky from pleasure, undo buttons. Unclasping his belt, removing loose fabric until he's bare before you. There’s something nervous to his gaze, something unspoken, lingering in the air. “Hey, hey. I’ve got you, yeah? You’re okay,” you promise, before your eyes shamelessly look down. He’s straining, pre-cum lingering at his tip, dick pressed up against his stomach now. “Fuck, okay— yeah. Good. Great even.” first time you've ever stumbled over a sentence in your life.

There’s so much to be concerned about. The fact he’s naked, that you could destroy everything with a few serrated words, years and years of rebuilding, reconstructing. But you don’t— and he can’t help but laugh nervously. “Glad to be up to your standards. I’d uh, hate to disappoint.”

“Always the over-achiever,” you respond, shifting away from him— there’s amusement to your expression when he groans, pitifully, when he rolls onto his back, draping an arm over his face.

Predictable. Condoms in his bedside table. At least he's prepared. You open the wrapper with your teeth, discarding it somewhere amongst the tangle of limbs and sheets, too hellbent on finding him again.

Oh, in this position, you have full, unrestricted view of his body. Endless planes of skin, begging to be marked, sentenced indefinitely to your touch. By the time you straddle his hips, hes a flushed mess beneath you. “I— um, you look really really pretty right now.” he stumbles, idiot.

His dilated eyes take you in. Every contour and curve, the way your hair hangs over your face, eyes up eyes up eyes up. He fails when you run your hand across his dick, thumb brushing against the tip. By the time you’ve slipped the condom over him, hes gone. Bucking and moaning, and so so much better than his hand could ever be.

He wants to be inside of you, but it’s hard to think right now, let alone vocalize the words. I want, he thinks, I want everything, with you.

Your name is on his tongue, muttered and repeated, a reverent prayer of sorts. He needs to gain back his control here, to return to equal footing.

“Yeah—“ he breathes out, “So much of an overachiever, considering I had you making all of those noises—“ his words falter, die out, when you sink down. When you take him. Wrapped around, tight. Warm heat that sets alight every nerve in his overstimulated body. He has half the mind to apologize for his comment because you’re about to ruin him, he knows.

“I thought you wanted me to corrupt you, hm?” you retort. The pace is slow, mostly for his own sanity. Though, the feel of him, the way he slots into you, warm skin pressed against warm skin is intoxicating, and it’s a battle to keep your composure. To not just fall apart under the weight of him.

“What’s that, pretty boy? Struggling? Because you were so egotistical a few seconds ago? Where’s all that ego gone? Straight between your legs, I think.”

A whimper. It’s a whimper, a pained thing ripped straight from his throat. He’s making indiscernible noises now, messy sounds pooling from his swollen lips. The praise, the strained undertones of degradation? It’s too much. But god does he love you for it, because that’s you through and through. Sharp, and brittle to everyone but him, he wants to look, he does, albeit he has to turn his head to the side, bury half of his face in a pillow because he’s gone. At this point, he can only take it.

“I— um, mhm. Yeah,” he slurs. He’s almost incoherent at this point; he’s been reduced to nothing, just a mass of skin, bone, and flesh at your disposal, to own and use and he can’t find it in himself to feel humiliated about it, not when it’s you.

“Can’t— um, I was wrong, you’re— oh god,” the sounds of your body hitting his, back arching as your pace picks up. “Oh, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry —baby, can’t, can’t take it. That’s…”

It’s a lot for his first time, that’s for certain.

“Yes, you you can. I know you can, Spence.” you mutter, interlocking your fingers, letting them hang near your hips. “You feel so good— so so fucking good. Look at you, so brain dead for me. Taking it all so well, love.”

Love?— oh he wants to be buried with that one. He’s a mindless disaster, impenetrably devoted to you alone.

He doesn’t even know how he’s saying words at this point, it’s as if his brain-to-mouth connection has been severed by your very presence itself. It’s not possible to form a coherent thought when you’re riding him like this, taking him so deep that he’s seeing stars. There’s tears pooling in his eyes, he looks pretty when he cries. Especially when it’s derived from pleasure, when he can let go of the burdens, everything he’s endured, when it’s just sensation. Nothing more, no more thoughts.

There’s safety here, an element of home, home home bliss, that has him keening. He wants to stay buried here forever, where nothing can ever hurt him again. When it’s just you, and your pretty words, and your exploitative power to destroy him. You never do, anyway. Even when you could, you restrain.

“Can’t, ’m gonna…, Please, please, don’t stop.” he whines, “Pleasepleaseplease— oh, can’t— I can’t.”

He grips you tight, rolls you over, mostly so he can feel you closer. The sight of you riding him was excruciating, but this is worse because now there’s no gap separating you. Now, he can bury his face into the crook of your neck, burn himself in the warmth of your touch.

“Spence..” you mutter.

“I know. I know—“ hes ruined, sloppy thrusts, whimpers catching against the stifling air. “Feels s’good.”

He doesn’t know what to do, how to breathe, so he just runs his thumb over your clit, watching your prominent reaction, watching as you gasp, moan— oh, and then you’re clenching around him, tightening the pleasure, and yesyesyes.

You’re too gone, moving still, and he can only cant his hips forwards, buck and squirm until he’s sobbing under the weight of your ministrations, releasing so hard that he can barely remember his name, no cognitive function, in the haze of his orgasm.

“There’s my boy— so pretty for me.” he can vaguely hear you saying, and if you’re talking him through it, he can only hear snippets of praise now anyway.

“Mhm— mhm. Yours, yeah.” he mumbles, body sinking against the sheets, a few little whimpers escaping his lips as you milk the rest of his pleasure from him.

Tangled limbs and sweat-stained skin. “You okay?” you ask in the aftermath.

“So okay,” he agrees, shifting closer, back pressed against your torso— sue him for being little spoon.

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The next morning, you wake to an absence of Spencer. It’s unsettling, to say the least. So, you're quick to fumble over the buttons of one of his shirts, fabric creased, matching the tousled nature of your hair, disheveled, remnants of the ruination of last night.

For a moment, you consider that he might’ve left — but there he is, in the kitchen, attempting to make breakfast.

“Hey,” you mutter, leaning against the counter to watch.

Scratches adorn his back, indent marks from your nails, crescent reminders, stain his waist, and he’s content to wear them. If anything, he can’t wait to add to the budding collection.

Pancakes. The good side of the bed. Coffee. All of his promises from last night are being thoroughly met, even if he’s burning the food, and shit, he didn’t realize the coffee would be finished so soon. For all his calculations, he’s fairly off-center today.

And then, you come padding across his kitchen, embellished in only his shirt, unbuttoned near the top to expose your collarbone, and he’s fairly certain the last remainders of his IQ disappear.

“Hi! Hi,” he says, wide-eyed, “Um, making.. breakfast. You look, wow yeah.”

Breakfast lays forgotten.

#spencer reid #sub spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #he deserves this #let the man fuck!!!!!

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reiderwriter · 9 months ago

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Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out.

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names.

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect.

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well.

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room.

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room.

“I… read, I guess?”

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?”

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you.

Because he definitely was.

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray.

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU.

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier.

“Hey I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word.

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching.

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended.

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower.

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.”

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice.

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all.

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock.

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?”

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion.

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was.

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?”

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand.

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.”

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock.

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention.

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial.

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release.

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for.

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him.

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart.

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes.

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?”

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody.

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment.

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes.

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum.

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy.

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing.

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still.

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough, you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker.

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed.

Until he went to prison.

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking.

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all.

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before.

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was.

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together.

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours.

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore.

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away.

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure.

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack.

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to.

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation.

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?”

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger.

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?”

“I…I want you to touch me again.”

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips.

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders.

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette.

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear.

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.”

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you.

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.”

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features.

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on.

“Spencer? Look at me, please.”

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him.

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.”

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace.

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on.

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again.

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.”

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth.

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss.

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again.

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.”

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.”

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.”

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands.

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him.

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back.

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.”

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously.

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!”

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock.

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?”

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!”

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him.

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me, missed this.”

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions.

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.”

“I'm not leaving.”

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss.

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom.

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt.

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question.

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’

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d0rothydraws · 2 months ago

Note

So I saw a reel on Insta theorising that Sylus is a fallen angel (very Lucifer coded)... would love to see that concept in a fic.. maybe wings could be involved 🤭 but will leave the specifics to you!

Sorry this took so long! also thank you for being my first request <3 I really appreciate it and I hope you like it

After you almost die from a surprise attack, you were saved. Waking up, you have a few questions for a certain someone.

Content: f!reader, switch!Sylus, slight praise kink, angel!Sylus. 18+

w/c: 3.7k

ao3: Here

a/n: I enjoyed writing this one! It was different than what I'm used to which was enjoyable. I wasn't quite sure where to take it so I hope its ok. Also happy kinktober! Let me know if theres any special kinks or prompts you want to see this month and I'll add it to the list.

It started off fine. Just a couple wanderers. It was a solo mission, nothing you haven't done before. It was late at night, almost 11. As the first wanderer fell to the ground in a heavy heap the second one lunged at you. Dodging, your sword caught it on its side making it cry in pain.

You pushed it farther, digging your sword between its crystalized ribs, groaning as you turned the blade. You felt a satisfying feeling deep inside you. This would be over soon, you told yourself. Just this one and you can go home and shower. Have a warm meal, catch up on your shows and go to bed.

Your body felt airborne. Weightless. And then, pain. Sharp paralyzing pain as your body was flung across the ground. A third wanderer appeared out of nowhere. Twice the size of the others and it was out for blood. You didn’t know if wanderers had families. But if they did, this one would most definitely be the mother of the two you just slaughtered. You felt weak, faint even. As you tried to stand, to defend yourself, a sound that you didn’t even recognize came out of your throat. An agonizing scream of pain as you tried to move your body from whatever the monster had launched you into. You didn’t know if you were impaled or crushed. All you knew is that your vision was fading fast, a vignette of black teasing the corners of your vision.

Your chest tightened as you tried one more time. If you stayed, you would be dead. Simple as that. But when you moved, it felt like you were being ripped in two. You felt something wet against your side. Most likely blood. You moved to try and use the device around your wrist, to call for help, for backup. For anyone. The feeling was gone from your fingers. Numb. Cold.

You never thought that your life would end like this. You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you had no regrets. You did. More than a handful and if you were given a second chance maybe things would have been different. You would enjoy your friends more, don’t take the people you love for granted. And most importantly, tell the people those same people.. or person.. that you love him.

A cold chill trailed through your body. You never told Sylus that you loved him. Sure, you had been early in your relationship. Maybe it was off to a rocky start but you had never felt so appreciated and cared for by any person in your life. Your hands curled into fists, your eyes burning with the realization of not only have you never told him that you loved him, but that was going to be your final thought as this wanderer rips your throat out. Tears burned your eyes as you took a shaky breath. The creature was circling you in the air. Wingspan twice as wide as you were tall. Your heart raced as you felt it begin to fly straight down to you. You closed your eyes, taking another deep breath to utter one last word.

“Sylus.”

A strong breeze flew past you. Your body braced for impact that never came. You opened your eyes, your vision blurry. A tall man stood in front of you. His back was to you, even in your slowly dying state it looked like… no it couldn’t be. It couldn't be because no matter how hard you focused, how many times you blinked, or squinted there was a pair of large black wings coming from the man's back. A stark contrast to the white hair that you knew so well. You heard a scream, the pained scream of the wanderer as it exploded from… whatever he did to it. You weren’t in a position to really tell or frankly care. You were dying. You felt your heart start to weaken, your body growing numb from the blood loss.

Warmth enveloped you. Strong arms carefully lifted you as if you were a fragile doll. Soft lips brushed your forehead as you felt the wind suddenly flow past you. The last thing you remembered was the sound of his heartbeat. As fast as ever, before you passed out.

Your eyes fluttered open.. Quickly you sat up, bracing yourself for the hot scorching pain that you remember. And yet, it never came. As your eyes adjusted to the candle lit room, oh so familiar to you. Sylus’ bedroom. Your heart raced. Why was there no pain? Was it just a vivid dream? And more importantly, where was Sylus. The memories flooded your mind. The feeling of the wind against your skin, the soft feathers that encased you in a warmth that you couldn’t describe. It felt so real.

The sound of footsteps made you turn your head as you seen Sylus at the doorway with a plate of warm food. Your stomach growled. It felt like you haven’t eaten for days suddenly. And maybe you haven’t. Even as your body screamed for the food though you couldn’t be bothered. Not when the candle light was flickering against his face like that. Not when his eyes rivaled the fire of those same candles. Only one thought was on your mind right now.

“What happened?” You said, trying to sound as stern as you could muster. You knew he would try to brush it under the rug. But you needed answers. To your question he only sat the tray of food on your lap, his eyes softer than usual as he looked at your face. Gently a hand cake to your cheek, brushing the softness of your skin.

“Eat first.” He said, gentle but unwavering. “Then questions.” His hand lingered for a moment longer. Long enough for his facade to crack just slightly. Concern and worry flicker in those eyes. Your heart skipped a beat as you took a soft breath and did as he said. As you eat he sits on the end of the bed by your feet, his hand gently caressing your leg.

“You're not allowed to go off fighting on your own anymore.” His words were stern, sending a cold shiver through you. The sound of his voice though was almost strained as if he was trying to hold something back. “You are very capable, but I can't risk losing you.” He said his voice softer as his hand continued to rub your legs under the blanket. You couldn't really blame him for being so worried. You were on the brink of death. Which brought you to your next question.

“Sylus.” You said softly, setting the food to the side as you moved to sit up more on the bed. “I was dying. I could feel it. How am i..” you paused trying to think of the words. “Not only alive, but there's not even a scratch on me.” You whispered, feeling your heart race with anticipation.

Sylus didn't answer, as if he was trying to think of his own answer. Your mind thought back to the moments before you passed out. The fear. Your final thought being of him. And in the last second it was as if..

As if an angel appeared.

As if a prayer was answered.

Sylus must have noticed your eyes widened slightly at your thoughts. You body stiffening slightly as you looked at him. You moved to your knees, crawling over to him as if to examine him. He didn't flinch or speak. Your hands moved over his back softly. Even over his shirt it felt normal. And you've seen him shirtless enough times to know that he didn't have any outstanding scars on his back that would indicate..

“Are you looking for something, sweetie?” He finally said as you lifted his shirt to get a closer look. His voice was teasing and yet there was a slight edge to it. You didn't say anything as you pulled the shirt over his head, leaving him shirtless. Positioned behind him on the bed, sitting on your knees, you ran your hands over his back. Tracing where you thought you had seen the wings. Very faintly you heard Sylus take in a breath, the muscles of his back flexing. Your hands continued, beginning to trail down his spine.

“You had wings.” You said finally, it was not a question. The tension in the room was thick enough that it was almost hard to breathe. A soft chuckle broke the long silence which didn't help.

“Kitten you were passed out by the time I found-”

“No.” You said sternly. You weren't playing this game. Something came over you and you didn't know what. Suddenly moving from behind him, you used a hand to push him back onto the bed. In a second you were sitting on his chest looking down at him, frown on your face, eyes staring into his. The look of genuine surprise filled you with adrenaline.

“We both know that I was awake. I know what I saw. And you had wings. Big. Black. Wings.” You said, each word enunciated. You seen a look that you never seen behind his eyes. Hesitation. It passed in a blink of an eye as he smirked, raising his eyebrows. Hands moved to your hips, fingers sinking into your skin.

“Tell me, sweetie.” He said, his voice oozing with a condescending tone. “How exactly could I have wings? You just checked me. No wings, correct?” He said his voice confident and proud as ever.

You looked down at him, hating the smug look on his face. You sounded insane but you knew what you had seen. Not only that, you didn't have a single scratch on you. You weren't even sore. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words.

“You're an angel.”

You didn't know what you expected but you really didn't expect the sound of him laughing. A deep guttural laugh. Your lips tightened into a thin line as you glared down at him. Was he mocking you? His eyes were filled with so much amusement.

“I'm flattered, truly.” He said as he chuckled a few more times. “Humor me again kitten. Why would you think I'm an angel?” Sylus said, the laugh not reaching his eyes. Your body tensed. It felt like you said something you shouldn’t have. But you weren’t backing down. You weren’t going to let him gaslight you. Taking a deep breath you tried to not let your voice betray you.

“First, you appeared when I called your name. Second, there isn’t a scratch on me even though I was dying. Third..” You trailed off not wavering your eyes from his. The tension was thick. Your third remark was only half a joke but you hoped it would help ease how tense everything was. “Third, you’re too pretty to be human.” You said with a half laugh but part of it truly resonated with you. It was said Lucifer was extremely handsome even after he became a fallen angel. Sylus’ eyebrow raised as he looked up at you as if processing your words. Just when you were about to think of something to say to break the silence he finally spoke.

“I truly thought I was going to lose you.” He said softly. His expression changed as his hand moved to cup your cheek. Your breath caught softly. He didn’t deny it. Didn’t deny a single one of your words. “I never expected things to go this way, though when it comes to you, things are unpredictable.” He said sitting up, sliding you down to straddle his waist. “With how severe your injuries were, I didn’t think you would truly believe what you saw.”

“So it’s true.” You whispered, your breath catching as you lifted a hand to caress his face. You trailed over his jaw, his cheek. “You’re an angel?” Your voice started to give away. You had dealt with the supernatural before. Wanderers, mermen, aliens, but angels? This was a new one. He leaned his cheek against your hand, his eyes soft as he chuckled, enjoying the look on your face.

“Once I was. And now I am not. I suppose fallen angel is the correct term you would use.” He said, his thumb brushing the curve of your chin as his other hand held your waist. Tilting your head to look up at him, his voice dropped an octave, making you shiver. “Though the reason I've fallen… shall remain a secret for now.” He said as his forehead rested on yours, his breath grazing your lips. Your heart fluttered. He was so close. You couldn’t stop the temptation of closing the distance.

The kiss was slow, tender. As if you had all of the time in the world. As you kissed him, the thumb on your chin moved to your cheek, holding you there as his lips embraced yours. Even as you kissed him though, one thought trailed through your mind. Painfully so. The memory of what you were sure was to be your final thought. Your biggest regret. Not telling Sylus that you loved him.

You felt a rush of adrenaline rush through your body, your heart beginning to race as you broke the kiss, looking up at him. You tried to use words, your mouth opening but your brain wouldn’t cooperate. As he looked down at you, piercing red eyes staring down at you with a mix of curiosity and desire, you followed your instincts. You put your hand on his chest, gently tracing the defined muscles and skin that stretched across his body before you pushed him down onto his back. His eyes widened for a second, his hands moving to your hips as your lips found his again in a rougher, deeper kiss.

Nails bit your sides as he gripped harder, your teeth pulling at his bottom lip before pushing your tongue into his mouth. One hand curled in his hair, pulling slightly as you made him lean his head back more so you could kiss him harder, deeper. Your hips circled against his quickly hardening cock. There weren’t many times you got to be on top like this, and you were going to take advantage of every second. You felt him groan against your lips as your hand kept a firm grip on his hair. Pulling away from this kiss, his bottom lip between your teeth as you did, you looked down at him. Panting slightly your voice dropped to a low whisper.

“You are beautiful, aren’t you? My handsome angel.” You said as you leaned down to kiss the shell of his ear, teeth grazing the cartilage. “My own guardian angel.” You felt the shiver of his body under you, the hitch of breath. It clearly was a soft spot. One that you were going to prod and push until you couldn’t. Your lips moved down his neck, your hands trailing back over his chest as you gave a soft moan, letting yourself enjoy the feeling of his body under yours. His muscles twitched as your hands caressed him, lips kissing down his neck. “You really do like when I praise you, don’t you?” You whispered against his neck.

You felt his hands grip your hips tighter as a shiver ran down his spine. His breath caught as you circled your hips again. It was as if you could feel him start to lose his composure under your touch. His voice was strained as he finally spoke.

“You don’t want to know what happens when you call me that.” Sylus said, his hands moving to your thighs, groaning as you moved your hips against him again. You chuckled softly against his neck, lips kissing down to his shoulder. Your hands moved down his sides, nails gently scratching along his skin.

“Oh, and what’s that, my angel?” You purred, your body moving lower down his. Lips at his nipple as you looked up to meet his eyes that were looking down at you. Eyes that watched as your tongue flicked out against the nipple and how you smirked at his small gasp. “Relax. Let me reward my guardian angel for saving me.” You whispered against his skin.

Your tongue flicked his nipple again, hands moving to peel off his pants. As they were discarded with a little of his help, you moved your hand to the bulge that was hard between his thighs. A low goan echoed in the room as you began to shift his boxers down next, freeing him. Gently, your hand wrapped around his cock, twitching softly in your hand. His head leaned back as he groaned again, hips thrusting against your hand.

“Oh, you do like that, don’t you? All I’ve done is call you a pretty angel and you’re hard for me.” You said looking down at him. There has only been a handful of times that you’ve been able to see him blush like this. And each time sends adrenaline through your system like a shockwave. It was like a drug. Especially as you kept stroking his cock, thumb rubbing against the tip that was beginning to leak.

“Of course I do, kitten.” He groaned, looking up as you sat on his thighs. His hand moved against the skin of your inner thigh, tracing the outline or your panties. “How could I not when you’re on me like this, using such pretty words?” His voice was a low timber that made your hand around his cock tighten just a little. His mouth opened in a low moan, hips buckling slightly. You grinned down at him, eyes hungry. He was putty in your hands.

His moan distracted you from his hands moving your panties to the side. Suddenly you gasped as his fingers grazed past your lips. Wasting no time he moved a finger inside you making you gasp out a moan. He buckled into your hand as he added a second finger quickly after the first, You moved your hips against his hand, eyes half closing as his thumb pressed against your clit.

Suddenly you moved your hand from his cock, lifting your hips away from his fingers. His eyebrows knitted as he was about to make a comment before he saw you begin to adjust yourself over him. You see a fire behind his eyes ignite. Lowering yourself onto him you cried out, you both moaning in unison at the feeling. Slowly you lowered yourself all the way until you were sitting on his lap. Circling your hips, his hands came to grab them. In a swift motion you felt yourself be lifted slightly as if you were weightless before being brought back down onto him.

Your eyes widened as you cried out, gasping from the feeling. His hips met the movement, a low moan fell from his lips as he lifted you a few more times, hips fucking up into you. You laid your chest against his, kissing him through your moans. You loved that he could handle you like this. Like you weighed nothing. His kiss was deep, rough, hungry, matching the vigor of his movements.

You felt a gust of wind around you, gasping you pulled back slightly, looking up at Sylus. Spread out under him on the bed were those wings. Dark as night, the feathers having a vague red undertone. His movements slowed slowly, his cock still deep inside you as you reached out to brush your hand against the feathers. He gasped softly, you felt his cock twitch inside you. And as you did it again, your back was suddenly against the bed, hands above your head as he looked down at you. The dim candle light of the room illuminates his silhouette like a painting. Wings embracing you on each side of the bed. Closing you off from the world. The only thing you could see was him and him alone.

“It’s polite to ask before you touch, sweetie.” He said, breath heavy as he moved his free hand to reposition him against you again. Before you could say anything he thrusted back inside you. Your legs wrapped around his waist and you felt the feathers brush against your skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the sight. His face flushed, body above yours as he fucked into you. Moaning and grunting with each thrust. You knew you wouldn’t last long but your orgasm rushed through you suddenly. Your eyes widened as you felt the coil in your stomach break, hips arching against him, his name on your lips. And then, not realizing it, another set of words followed.

“I love you.”

You gasped the words out in a heat of passion but you knew you genuinely believed them. But you couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that this is the first time you said it. Sylus’ thrusts slowed as he looked down at you. His eyes suddenly soft, almost curious as his hand let go of your wrists to cup your face. Your words did not go unnoticed. And you could see that they had an effect on him.

“I know.” He said gently, his nose brushing against yours. “But it is nice to hear you finally say it.” He whispered, lips brushing against yours as he tilted your head to meet his eyes. “I love you too.”

His hips moved slowly, deeply. You gasped as your hands moved to claw his back, brushing against the area where the wings met his skin. He groaned softly, gasping. You couldn't stop touching the area again, fingers brushing and trailing along the sensitive wings. He didn’t pin your hands above your head this time, though. He let you continue as you felt his thrusts get more and more desperate. His body tensed under your hands.

Sylus closed his eyes, moaning as his mouth opened with the sound of your name on his lips. Hips stuttering as he released inside you. He rode it out, gasping as you continued to touch and tease this new sensitive part of his body. After a few moments his movements stopped as he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes opened, seeing yours looking up at him.

You arched up, kissing him softly. Pulling away you smiled, a hand cupping his cheek.

“I love you.”

#love and deepspace #sylus #lads #lads sylus #love and deepspace sylus #l&ds #sylus x reader #fic #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #sylus x you #lnds smut

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fatuismooches · 2 years ago

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OH NY GOD THE CHILDHOOD CRUSH CONCEPT BUT WITH DOTTORE 😭😭IF THAT'S OKAY?? reader is the only one who was interested in his endeavors and helped, so probably they're just as bad as him so they're partners in crime 👉👈 he's gotta have done experiments on then but they were never painful, only for them fr

♡ 𝐃𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞’𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 ♡

synopsis: When you were a child, there was a peculiar boy who seemed to never have any friends, alienated away from the others. Perhaps you could be his first one.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: Yes yes yes, I love this! This is so very cute, thank you and I hope you enjoy this! The use of Dottore's real name, Zandik, is used mostly in this because, well... that's what he was called as a child. (And to be honest, if you're dating any of the Harbingers you have to be somewhat... you know. And I think pre-Fatui Dottore would be different when it comes to affection and such... so yea. Subby Dottore I guess?)

Childhood was something you cherished growing up in Sumeru. The pursuit of knowledge, the Akademiya, being a scholar, was something that was drilled into the heads of the young ones even from an early age. But when you were a child, you had the freedom to actually live, the ability to dream, to have fun, to run around and play freely without having to worry about all that boring stuff. So needless to say, you made sure to spend every second of your childhood the way you wanted as much as you could. You were going to have as much fun as possible! Perhaps that was why the rumors about the teal-haired boy did not make you waver in your pursuit to befriend him too much.

Despite the child being your neighbor, you didn’t really know much about Zandik, but what you did know was that Zandik’s mother was a kind woman. She always waved hi to you when you saw her and made small talk with you. Besides that, you never really thought about it further until your friends brought it up one day.

“That lady really seems to really like you, [Name].”

“Hmm? Oh yeah, she’s always nice to me. She even makes me Pita Pockets sometimes!”

“Her child is too creepy though,” your friend complained. You were taken aback by their statement.

“What do you mean?” you questioned.

“Zandik’s always just been weird. That’s why no one ever plays with him. I heard that he always wants to do these weird… um, experiments I think. There are other rumors too, but I just know the way he acts is just bizarre.”

“I feel bad for her,” another one of your friends chipped in. “It must be hard to deal with such a freak. Aren’t you his neighbor, anyway? Don’t you know this?”

You just frowned and shrugged your shoulders. You didn’t really like the way they spoke about Zandik. Surely he couldn’t be as bad as they made him out to be. Maybe he was just an introvert?

Then again, you barely ever saw Zandik before. He never played with anyone, never spoke to anyone, hell, you didn’t even know if he left his house. The most often you saw him was when you happened to be walking by and caught a glimpse of him through the windows. He always quickly moved away when he was spotted though.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Just try to stay away from him, [Name].” You nodded your head, but your mind was already made up. You were determined to find out how bad Zandik actually was.

—

You did say you were going to befriend him, but you soon realized you were not sure how to go about it. You had never met someone like him before, so your choices were limited. The easiest thing you could think of was waiting near his room’s window. It was a bit embarrassing hiding behind a tree, seemingly waiting for nothing, but soon enough you saw him take a seat near the glass. You weren’t sure what he was doing, but he looked very focused on it, and you were a bit mesmerized for a second, as this was your first real look at him. But you soon snapped out of your daze and came out from behind the tree.

“Heyyyy!” You yelled, jumping up and down, attracting his attention. Zandik’s shoulders jumped for a second at the noise, and when he looked up, he was greeted by your figure on the ground. Your expression brightened when you noticed he saw you and began to wave your hands, mouthing something he couldn’t hear clearly.

Zandik was stunned. If he recalled correctly, you were the person who lived next door. He saw you occasionally but of course, did not care much about you. So why were you here? Were you standing there the whole time? What did you want? His active mind produced many questions, but in the end, he knew what you were. Your intentions could not be different from the other children.

The boy looked at you incredulously for a moment before getting up. Your smile grew wider, oh, was he going to open the window and say something? But then he pulled his curtains shut on you, blocking your sight into his room completely. Damn it.

Well, that failed terrifically, but it was a bit stupid now that you thought of it. You sat down against a tree and tried to think of your next plan, unaware of the now slightly drawn curtain and curious red eyes peeking out of it.

—

Any other ideas you tried had failed, and you were not sure what to do. You had become aware that he was closed off, unwilling to interact with you or any others. But this had only made you far more interested in him. So, you had only one plan left - to go directly to the person who could tell you all. And so you knocked on the front door of his house, revealing a familiar face.

“Oh? Hello, my dear! What a pleasant surprise to see you, [Name]. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Hi, ma’am. You see, I, um, have a request. I need help with something.”

“Well, I’ll certainly do my best to help you then,” Zandik’s mom affirmed.

“I want to see Zandik,” you said bluntly, shocking the woman for a second. “I want to befriend him and talk to him.”

“I-I see. It’s not every day another child comes and asks for my son. He is a… peculiar case, after all, and he doesn’t like speaking to other people. Are you sure about this?”

“Please, I really do want to be his friend,” you said resolutely. Her face softened and she relented.

“Alright, my dear. I know he usually frequents this spot…” the woman gave in and gave you directions to where Zandik apparently spent much of his time.

As you made your way there, you were a bit in awe of how he managed to find such a place. You never knew this route existed until now. Soon, after a bit of trekking, you found an opening that boasted lush grass and smooth stones, with trees surrounding it in a circle. It was quite pretty. And then that was when you saw Zandik in the middle, his teal hair matching the greenery. For a moment, you pondered over how to approach him, but you did not need to think long since he spoke first.

“How did you manage to find this place?” His voice echoed throughout the clearing, letting you know that you were spotted. You tentatively took a few more steps closer, his small body getting bigger.

“I asked your mom,” you began, “and she told me I could find you over here.” He let out a sigh.

“Admittedly, I did not expect you to go to such drastic lengths. You are more persistent than the lot of them,” Zandik acknowledged, though still not looking up from the rather complicated and thick book he was reading. Then, he snapped it shut and stood up.

“So, what is the reason for your tireless pursuit? Perhaps you’ve come to ridicule me? Or are you here to see whether the rumors are genuine? Do tell, I am truly curious as to what would warrant such an extended hunt.”

You were a bit stunned at that whole statement, but you only had one thing to reply with. “I mean… it’s none of those. I just want to become your friend.”

A moment of silence passed before a chuckle broke it. Then, full-out laughter rang out, echoing throughout the forest. It was almost maniacal, and you couldn’t lie that it kind of scared you a bit, but you bit your lip and remained calm.

“Aha, hehe, why, I have not heard that one yet. How creative. I must say, they are getting better at these.” After that little outburst, Zandik returned to his previous sitting position and became absorbed in his book again. You were honestly unsure of how to react to that. Did the other kids truly pick on him that much, for him to think another wanting to become his friend was a lie? You stood there unmoving until Zandik spoke again in a dismissive tone.

“You can go now. It was amusing while it lasted,” he said disinterestedly, waving his hand. You were dumbfounded but determined, so you answered back very simply.

“No. No, I won’t leave,” you declared so firmly that the boy stiffened.

“No?”

“Yes, in fact, I’m going to come over there right now. You know I wasn’t joking in the first place?” you said rather calmly, trying to seem as serious about this as possible, taking steps toward him.

He scowled, his attention drawn from his book once again. “No, you won’t. You won’t dare to come near me,” he stated just as firmly, having recalled how the other children wouldn’t even look at him. You grinned and picked up your pace until you were only a couple of footsteps away from him, and that was when he truly realized you were not joking. Zandik hastily tried to get up to avoid you but you dashed towards him, nearly tripping as you lowered yourself to a squatting position, becoming face to face with him.

You leaned in close to Zandik’s face, your nose almost touching his. His unique, red eyes held annoyance and a variety of other negative emotions, but there was something foreign in there too, which was the reason he didn’t pull away - confusion and curiosity. You smiled.

“Well now, hopefully you finally get it into that head of yours that you are now my friend. So, why don’t you tell me about what you’re reading?”

At first, he vehemently denied your friendly advances. He’d mock you, roll his eyes at you and such, or flat-out ignore you which was what he usually did. Zandik was honestly not very welcoming, which you began to expect at a certain point. But you persisted nonetheless. You followed him around no matter where he tried to go. You’d sit close to him but not too close. You’d speak sometimes and would either be met with silence or a sarcastic remark but you began to somewhat enjoy it. You’d stretch your neck to try and read the books he always brought with him in an attempt to better understand him. Though, the day he put the book on the ground so it could be read by both of you was the day you knew you won.

Zandik would always tell you not to come back, but you always came back of course. He’d roll his eyes and scoff at your tenacity, but you came to realize that he liked it. After all, he could very well just go to another hiding place, or arrive at a completely different time if he truly didn’t want to see you. He’d never admit it, but he warmed up to you. You also learned that Zandik really liked to talk. At first, when you would ask him questions about science, he wouldn’t respond but you could see him biting the inside of his lip, restraining himself from going on a tangent. It was the first time anyone had shown any real interest in him. Zandik would ramble on about many, many things, often transferring to a new topic in the blink of an eye. Even when he spoke about less-than-pleasant things, he looked to you all excitedly to hear your thoughts. When it came to those kinds of topics you satiated him with a smile, but you always voiced your thoughts as much as possible which pleased him greatly.

Eventually, you started to invite Zandik over to your house. His mom was positively ecstatic and encouraged this behavior. And yet you didn’t do what typical children did. He wanted to do experiments. Which did not really surprise you after everything was done and said. Despite being your age, he always spoke in such an… advanced way. It was hard to describe, but he always employed these big terms and used such proper grammar and language, something that was very uncharacteristic for a child. And experimented he did. Zandik’s experiments were not limited to mixing and combining different elements but also extended to you, somehow. He wanted a strand of your hair, your eyelash, a paper with your fingerprints all over it. What he used these for, you didn’t know.

Your own parents were scholars, so even though you didn’t see them very much, they left a multitude of advanced books and texts in the house. While you had never cared for them much, Zandik devoured them with ease. Even though you invited him to your house to talk and play together, there were times he’d just take one of the books and read for the whole time, shushing you whenever you tried to speak. You had to settle for simply sitting next to him and trying to follow along, which he… surprisingly did not mind. Under his breath, he’d mutter phrases like “Khaenri’ah” and “Visions” and “ruin machines” which frankly did not make much sense to you, but you always happily entertained him.

One day, Zandik wanted to go somewhere deep in the forest. You had played around there a couple of times, but you had never entered into the depths of it, heeding the warnings of danger from the adults. Naturally, you were a bit worried and scared, but you knew that Zandik would enter with or without you, for there was no length he wasn’t willing to go to cure his curiosity. Though he would not tell you why you were making this journey, you followed him nonetheless, until you reached an area with many damaged stones and pillars. As to how he found this location, you didn’t question it.

“There it is,” Zandik said almost breathlessly. You were confused at first but then you followed his line of sight, and then you saw it. A Ruin Guard sat on the ground, unmoving. Your jaw dropped as you had never seen one of them before, only hearing about their destructiveness from others and in books.

“So you came here to look at that?”

“Indeed. But we are not merely going to look. I’m going to investigate it.”

“Huh?! But what if it awakens and attacks us?” Even though the two of you were a good distance away, you could easily tell the Ruin Guard dwarfed your tiny bodies by a great amount.

“From what I’ve read and heard, it should be deactivated. There is no need to worry,” Zandik affirmed.

“What do you mean by ‘should be’- hey, wait up!” Before you could finish your sentence, your friend had already made his way toward the Ruin Guard. You scrambled to catch up with him and soon enough you two were close to the robot. Both of you stood there for a bit, just taking in the sight until Zandik couldn’t hold back and approached the Automaton, circling around it, clearly fascinated.

Clink.

The two of you stiffened at the sound.

“Zandik… did you hear that?” He did not respond, but soon enough your question was answered as the eye of the Ruin Guard beamed awake.

Zandik could only stare in amazement as the complex machine glowed and lit up back to life. You were momentarily shocked but you quickly regained your senses and grabbed his hand to get away from there, because you two would be dead in a couple of seconds if you didn’t move. You had to literally drag him because the machine had him in an astonished stupor.

“I thought you said it was DEAD?!?!” you practically screamed at him as the Ruin Guard lowered itself to shoot missiles at you both. You managed to hide the two of you behind a small stone wall as the projectiles hit that instead. “And snap out of it!!”

“I suppose I have miscalculated.”

“You suppose?” Your voice had quieted down so as to not bring back the attention of the robot, which was now walking around the area since it had lost sight of you. “We need to leave before it spots us again.”

“No,” he disagreed. “We’ll incapacitate it ourselves.” It took you a few seconds to process what Zandik said to you.

“Are you crazy? Ah, never mind that. I already knew you were from a long time ago. But this is something far from our level!”

“I believe that we would be able to disable it.”

“Trained adventurers have died from that thing,” you insisted.

“We aren’t adventurers. We are better than them.”

“We’re children,” you deadpanned.

“Two intelligent children,” Zandik corrected you. For a second you were shocked that he called you smart, as you did not expect that sudden compliment. You always considered him the brains and you were… the supporter from the sidelines. “Furthermore, I have a plan.”

You sighed and rubbed your temples. “Fine… what is it?”

“It is quite simple. First, you will hit the eye of the Ruin Guard twice to stun it, and while it’s knocked out, I will remove the core to deactivate it.”

“...Yeah. So simple, Zandik,” you said sarcastically. “And how do you suppose I manage to hit its eye? It’s extremely tall and my aim is nowhere that good.”

“I would not have brought up this idea if I did not think you were that incapable. You are quite useful to me,” he said straightforwardly. Boy, did Zandik have a very odd way of cheering you up.

“I… well, okay then. And you know how to get the core out of it?”

“I’ve read multiple passages of these machines in textbooks. I assume I have enough knowledge to do so.”

“I’m not going to even say anything. You owe me a play date after all of this,” you pouted. Zandik rolled his eyes begrudgingly.

“I suppose I can engage in your nonsensical childish activities when all of this is over. But just for an hour,” he proclaimed. You gleefully smiled, pleased to have won him over.

You didn’t care much for the Archons or Gods but you suppose they must have been watching over you because you eventually managed to stun it. Keyword: eventually - after whole minutes of running around dodging missiles and picking up random stones along the way, while Zandik sat there waiting for the right moment. You swear he was laughing at you. And true to his word, the young boy dismantled the machine’s core, rendering it unable to operate.

“Wow… I can’t believe we actually did that,” you mentioned, still in awe of it all.

“Of course we did. I would expect or accept nothing less. Now, come here. We have work to do.”

Somehow he had brought along small tools to try and dissemble the Ruin Guard. The red-eyed boy’s intelligence had always amazed you. Although it may seem boring to others, watching him fiddle was quite interesting for you. Zandik had also apparently appointed you as his assistant without informing you until now, so you always sat next to him. You made sure to keep an eye on what he did, for sometimes he would put his hand out and expect you to pass him a tool or screw without saying anything. At the end of the day, at least you could say the two of you had feats that no other child could claim to have accomplished.

It had gotten to the point where Zandik constantly wanted your presence around him, claiming that it would do you well to join him since you had nothing better to do. (He just didn’t want to admit he craved your attention and company.) You had accepted this with no complaints, having enjoyed spending time with him far more than your other friends. But you couldn’t deny that your friends were somewhat right about their thoughts towards Zandik - he cared little for others’ lives or feelings, was interested in things others would find disturbing, and even as a child you could tell he was not too right in the head. And yet his morals being concerningly low despite still being a kid, you could not bring yourself to care much. Heh, perhaps he was starting to influence you too.

Many years had passed since the two of you were little kids. Zandik had grown into a handsome, young, man. His mother was no longer in the picture, but the two of you were still together despite it all. And as much as you wanted to end your story off with a cliche everything was well, nothing could be farther from the truth. The atmosphere of your hometown had begun to grow tense. Why, you ask? Because of Zandik. The villagers had always not been the kindest to him, never fond of his rather strange ideas, though Zandik usually brushed it off with disinterest. But as he grew older, it seemed that the town’s dislike for him grew as well. And while you were a bit worried for him, you weren’t too concerned. You were sure the two of you would leave the place one day anyway. No way in your wildest dreams did you think you’d look outside your window and see people waving around pitchforks and clubs. And if that wasn’t bewildering enough, they were pointed toward Zandik.

You never scrambled to your feet and out the door so fast in your life, rushing to your dear friend’s side. His expression was unreadable when he saw you.

“Hey. Hey! What is this all about, huh?” you demanded to the crowd.

“He has to go. He is no longer a child, and so we no longer have any reason to have to harbor him here. He is a threat to this town,” someone spat.

“He’s never even hurt you,” you argued. “He never laid a hand on any of you. It was rather you who did that!” You think you heard Zandik whisper your name quietly.

“He’s a heretic,” another voice hissed. “He and his ideas do not belong here.” The clattering of pitchforks pitched in to agree. Zandik remained silent.

You gritted your teeth. You could see there was no point in arguing anymore. “Fine. Fine then. We didn’t even like it here anyway,” you fumed. In your spur of anger, you clasped your friend’s hand and practically dragged him in the opposite direction, blocking out the boos and mockery from the rest of the town.

Surprisingly, Zandik did not say a word throughout your little journey to who knew where, until you had to take a break from the sheer exhaustion. Embarrassingly, you had to release his hand that you had kept hostage the whole time, but Zandik seemed far less perturbed than you. Perhaps he saw it coming, with how assured his next statement was.

“We shall attend the Akademiya.” Out of all the possible things he could have said, you did not expect that one for some reason.

“The A-Akademiya?”

“Yes,” Zandik said quite simply.

“I mean, it’s not a bad idea but… the people there might be…” You did not finish your sentence, but you were referring to how the place could have a good amount of judgmental “scholars.”

He laughed bitterly. “After this morning, I highly doubt anything they do shall ever bother me.” You did not know what words would console him, so the only thing you offered was an agreeing nod and your silent presence.

“They did not exile you, [Name],” he said all of a sudden.

“It doesn’t matter. Getting rid of you would be the same thing as getting rid of me. I wouldn’t stay in a place where you aren’t,” you shrugged simply, placing your pinky over his own.

Zandik did not respond, but he didn’t move away.

—

The Akademiya was… an experience, for sure. It was many things all at once, the different Darshans and the beautiful architecture, the great looming trees. And the dorms were far nicer than you expected. At least they were spending their funds decently enough. So, the two of you settled into the scholarly life relatively easily. Zandik easily climbed to the top of his classes in no time, quickly garnering the attention of others and then losing it equally as fast when they encountered his prickly personality. There were always gossip and rumors floating about, many of which proclaimed Zandik to be a madman and a monster. And while he rarely ever showed any expression to these words, besides perhaps a roll of the eyes and chuckle or a scoff, you wondered if it really did bother him. As such, everyday life for you was being known as the normal person who hung out with the weirdo.

But, the years spent in the institution were ones you cherished deeply. You were close with your friend for many years, but perhaps staying together in such close quarters deepened the relationship. The two of you would sneak out after hours to do whatever Zandik demanded to be done. You were a bit iffier about breaking rules, but Zandik was firm on not letting anyone hold him back in his pursuit, so you began to think less of it. Many nights would pass by with the two of you staying up until unreasonable hours, whether it was studying together (or more like Zandik helping you study), or listening to him ramble on about his latest ideas and inventions. The strangest times were when he made you stay up despite not speaking at all. You would blink through bleary eyes as he remained silent, the only noise the clinking of bolts and nuts. In your heart, you liked to think he just liked your presence.

But the day you found out Zandik was to be expelled from the Akademiya was one you’d never forget. You knew he had a tendency to act without permission, to turn off others with his radical ideas, so perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. You also had some knowledge of what happened in his expeditions with the team - almost everyone did, considering what happened with that girl - and you knew deep down what her true cause of death was. And Zandik knew that you knew too; you could feel it unspoken in his eyes when the subject matter was brought up briefly. You knew you were too far gone when you accepted it. But still, him being expelled was still a shocker. Yet the only thing he bemoaned was losing his space to work.

“It is quite literally your last night in this dorm and you’re sad about losing your progress on your experiments?” Actually, now that you thought about it, it was quite a Zandik thing to think.

“It was the only good thing about this place,” he shrugged. “It is too bad. I shall have to find somewhere else now.”

“They’re going to exile you to the desert, aren’t they?” you frowned. “That’s what they do with the expelled and mad scholars, no?” He nodded in agreement.

“You can’t go. You won’t be able to continue your kind of research there,” you argued.

“And what do you propose? That we fight them?”

“Yes! I’ll fight them! I’d ambush them or something!” you knew you sounded crazy by now but you couldn’t help it. The idea of no longer being with your childhood friend was tearing you in half. “You know, the matra stationed there keeps an eye on all of the scholars who were exiled there, in order to keep them in check. Even if you managed to escape, it won’t be easy to survive in such conditions and they could find you,” you insisted.

“Good thing you’re so eager to fight,” he chuckled. You knew what he was thinking when he laughed like that. “I have a plan.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Did you really think I’d go in there without preparation?” he scoffed. “In due time, I shall find a way to contact you.”

You sighed. “Alright, just… let me know who I have to fight later,” you responded. “And…” you trailed off, not knowing if you should verbalize your true worried feelings. He seemed to notice, and he contemplated, trying to figure out what to say.

“You need not worry about me, [Name]. We both shall be fine.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, as they were things he would never say. But he did anyway.

And that was the last you saw of Zandik. But unbeknownst to either of you, he would be visited by a special man - the first Harbinger.

—

You stood outside on the small balcony, gazing down at Sumeru’s city. You had managed to nab one of the dorms with the platform, much to the dismay of the other scholars. The two of you always loved seeing them fume, as they had to take their star gazing elsewhere. Neither you nor Zandik had cared much for the stars, but admittedly it was just… nice to feel the wind blow.

Sleep had escaped you ever since Zandik left. Not hearing the usual metal clink and unscrewing noises, soft grunts, and occasional chair shifting from Dottore had left you unsettled and bothered. You had begun to think about whether you should continue to stay in the Akademiya. Zandik was no longer here, and the place crawled with rumors and gossip regarding him. You weren’t so popular anymore either, as the whispers even extended to you, his roommate who people began to question if you were truly innocent.

You had been feeling a bit lost in general since Zandik had been expelled. You were fully aware of the heinous things he had committed. You had come to terms that he was a criminal, and you were accomplice of sorts as well. Actually, the moment you decided to associate yourself with him was the moment you became not so good of a person. But that wasn’t what bothered you. What bothered you was Zandik’s absence.

Any normal person would have called you absolutely crazy for desiring such a madman’s presence. And you couldn’t blame them. They were right. Yet your heart could not let go of the man who you stuck with since childhood. You could not let go of the boy who scowled and doubted your intentions at first, the boy who eventually warmed up to you, the boy who demanded you be his test subject and assistant at the same time, the man who tutored you in science and maths and everything else, the man who stayed up to ungodly hours to tinker.

The man who you fell in love with.

The revelation was enough to make your knees weak, and suddenly the cold air was too much for your warming body. Quickly, you locked the doors to the balcony and stumbled onto your bed, rubbing your temples at this acknowledgment. Archons, how stupid were you? You were in love with someone whose character was… words you could not describe. Though you knew it all along. You just were scared to admit it. You internally cursed Zandik for doing this to you, as you knew you were too late to say anything. Not that you’d have a chance though, considering his whole outlook. He’d think that love was for fools only, a waste of time when he could pursue more fruitful endeavors. So all of this only caused you to miss him so terribly much more.

You missed his eyes - such a unique red that could only be compared to the one that flowed through living beings. You missed his hair - the softness that you only felt once, when you gently caressed the locks when you thought he was sleeping, but he grabbed your wrist so quickly it nearly scared the living daylights out of you. You missed his sharp and smart tongue that could put someone into their place in a matter of seconds. You missed everything about him.

But you shouldn’t sulk. No - you would not brood. If he was here, he’d probably be reprimanding you for being distracted when there was so much left to do. Sooner or later, you knew in your heart you would see him again and-

Knock-knock.

You bolted up at the series of knocks. Were you hearing things? Surely no one would be at your door this hour of the night. Did Zandik make you delusional now?

Knock-knock-knock.

Nope, you still had some of your sanity left. You swung your feet off the bed, about to head towards the door when a rather strange shadow blurred across the floor. It looked oddly like… a figure… at your balcony… Your heart pounded as you convinced your head to look up.

Zandik was on your balcony. How he managed to get up so many stories of the building, you had no clue. No longer did he don the Akademiya’s uniform, but clothes that were rather nice and expensive looking. It seemed your stupor lasted longer than his liking as he tapped impatiently on the glass door and pointed towards the lock.

Well, it seemed your reunion with him was happening sooner rather than later, that’s for sure. Quickly you scrambled to open the door and pull your beloved inside.

“Z-Zandik,” you sputtered, not believing your eyes. “I- what- how are you here? Did anyone see you? You have to leave, they’re going to catch you!” You fumbled over your words, fighting with the happiness of seeing your friend again but also concerned about him being caught. “What happened with the plan? What happened in the desert? What are you wearing? How did you-?”

Zandik quickly shut you up by tapping his newly gloved finger on your lips. “You must not speak so loudly. But you are correct, we do not have much time.”

“You’re r-right,” you agreed, lowering your tone. “But I just need at least some kind of explanation. Why and how did you come back…?”

“The Fatui has recruited me.”

“The Fatui?” you echoed softly, trying to remember what that was. A few seconds of thinking and remembering the daunting masked men and women who carried around weapons caused you to snap back to life. “The Fatui?!” you whisper-yelled. “Those scary people who always eyed us up when went into the forest and stuff?! I- ah, I won’t even question it anymore. Just… go on.” Zandik smirked at your halting.

“They have provided me with sufficient equipment and a space to work. We no longer have any reason to stay at this ignorant institution,” he declared. “And, from now on, I am to be called Dottore, a new Harbinger.”

“Dottore?” you repeated. “How clever,” you snorted at the irony of the name. “And… what do you mean by ‘we’?” your voice got quieter towards the end.

“I mean what I said. You shan’t stay here any longer.”

You already knew you were following him, but your chest twinged due to your recently newfound feelings. What if you somehow turned out to be a nuisance for him? Eternally distracted by this foolish love?

“Oh really? And what makes you think I’d follow you so easily?” You don’t think he was expecting you to say that. He cleared his throat.

“I’ve already made it clear to the Jester I shall not work without a competent assistant. There is only one person who has proven themselves to be capable. I will not settle for anyone else,” Zandik stated resolutely. “And,” he paused, uncharacteristically unsure of how to voice what he wanted to say next. He had always been a man who would proclaim the most damning ideas with no remorse. Yet he had trouble formulating his thoughts because of you.

“You are… infuriating,” he began, making you raise your eyebrow. How charming of him. “Since that day in the forest, I knew you were going to be vexing. You would not bend to anything I said, would not leave me alone no matter the methods I used. Infuriating,” he repeated.

“But,” he very cautiously raised his hand to hover near your cheek, just barely making contact, “I never thought I’d become so… accustomed to you. I remember your habits and likes just as much as I remember those formulas you hated so. It’s laughable to think that almost all of my memories have you there somehow.”

“You are irking, but without your presence, I am strangely irritated myself, which is far more of a hindrance than I would have ever anticipated. Without you, I find my mind wandering - it is like nothing I have experienced before,” he finally cupped your cheek with hesitance, as if he himself was in disbelief at his own actions.

“I have known you almost all my life, yet I seem to still need more time to truly figure you out. I am not merely speaking as a scholar, but as… me,” he finished. Now, that was the last thing you expected from a man such as him. But he quickly regained his composure as he asked you the final question.

“Now,” he concluded. “What say you?” For all his talk of bravado and confidence, his hesitant show of affection revealed all the vulnerability that you desired to see and gave you the answer you needed. You placed your own hand over his one on your cheek, maintaining eye contact with him as he stiffened at the feeling of your skin against his, even if it was clothed. You moved closer to Zandik, until your chests were nearly touching.

Zandik knew what you were going to do. Although the thought of such affection usually made him… ill and annoyed, he could not help but think that the feeling would be different if you were the one initiating. How would his body react? Would he enjoy it? Would he want to do it again?

You moved closer to his face, and without hesitation, you kissed him. Zandik was rigid, the foreign sensation of another’s lips against him was completely unfamiliar to him. But it seemed that the answer to his questions was a resounding ‘yes.’ You pulled away from him, trying to gauge his expression. You did not know too much about kissing, but you knew your newly found lover understood even less, which spurred you to continue.

Running your hands down his firm arms, you leaned in again to nip and suck at his neck, drawing out a shudder from Zandik. He felt intoxicated by you all at once. He would be sure to write some notes on this later… they would be needed for further… research and experimental trials. He nuzzled his face into your soft locks, silently encouraging you to continue your course of action, eager to indulge in it with as much excitement as he would indulge in forbidden knowledge.

But then you released him with a pop of your lips. “Well, let’s not get too carried away,” you teased. “Wouldn’t want your new subordinates seeing you like this, hmm?” you straightened his collar and smoothed out the wrinkles you created on his clothes. To say he felt bewildered and betrayed was an understatement.

“And if that wasn’t enough of an answer for you,” you changed your tone to a soft, honest one, “Wherever you go, I shall go too. I decided that a long time ago, Zandik.” There was no need for either of you to say the three words that many others longed for. You knew that the relationship you now had with him was far stronger than a few mere words could describe.

Zandik quickly regained his composure. He would be sure to pay you back for your little stunt later. “Well then, there is much to be done. We have not a moment to waste,” he grinned, halfway out onto the balcony. “Take my hand, and we will be off,” he extended his arm, his gloved hand awaiting your own.

Taking his hand meant abandoning this current life. It meant embracing a new life that was far from morally right, one that should surely lead you to be despised by many. It meant becoming a part of the Fatui for Archon’s sake, an organization that was far from reputable. Zandik and [Name] would become lost to the world, the names only being remembered by the two of you in loving, soft-spoken whispers. Others would only know Dottore and his loyal assistant. If you took his hand, there was no going back…

And yet with no hesitation, you placed your hand in his.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #dottore fluff #genshin impact il dottore #il dottore #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #dottore angst #zandik x reader #genshin impact dottore #genshin impact zandik

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bad-and-drawn-that-way · 9 months ago

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Let me just say, I absolutely adore your writing so much!! Your More Than Anything series with Vox is honestly one of, if not my favorite Vox series!!!❤💙 I was wondering if you could do a kind of silly, fluffy imagine with Vox where they're in their early stages of flirting/crushing and the reader avoids the topic of kissing... because they think Vox isn't able to kiss with his screen? Literally before episode 8, the question in my mind was "Can the dorky TV man kiss?" And then we got confirmation he most DEFINITELY could 🤣 I just think it'd be so cute and funny for that to be something the reader was wondering as well but wasn't sure how to ask him about it without being weird lol

Oh my goodness, such high praise aaaa! I actually have a scene in my Ao3 fic based on the same concept! I'd be happy to write some awkward smoochums! This guy is such a fucking dork and I love him.

Assumptions [Vox x Reader Fluff]

You and Vox had been dating for a month and the overlord was on the verge of insanity. He knew that Valentino had much more intense needs when it came to physical affection than most, but he wasn't expecting such a drastic shift in needs when it came to you.

He knew that being in a real relationship was very different from what he'd experienced before with his fellow overlord. But he thought the two of you would have done something by now. Not even necessarily sex. (Although he'd definitely been fantasizing about that more than he cared to admit.)

The two of you had cuddled, slept in the same bed, and even h*ld h*nds, but you hadn't kissed yet and it wasn't for his lack of trying. He'd invited you on romantic dates and set up several perfect opportunities. But whenever he'd try to go for it, you'd always pull away before he had the chance.

He didn't understand. The two of you had been doing so well. You always seemed to be swept up in the little heated moments just as much as he was, so why?!

Vox had been completely distracted during his entire news segment and groaned as slipped into his secluded dressing room. If it wasn't for the fact that he caught sight of you in his mirror, he probably would have flipped out when he felt your arms slip around him from behind.

"What are you doing here?" he chuckled as he lifted a hand to rest on one of your arms.

"I missed you," you smile, squeezing him gently before letting go. "And I saw that..." you cringe. "Performance. You seemed off. Is something on your mind?"

Vox's eyes widened and he cursed himself mentally for putting on a subpar show in front of the camera. If you noticed, then the audience probably did as well. No one really gave half a fuck about the news, but ratings were ratings.

"It's nothing," Vox muttered. "It's just..."

He looks up at you with an unreadable expression and you gasp as he reaches up and gently takes hold of your chin. His brow furrows as he tucks your hair behind your ear and your heart races a million miles per second as he searches your blushing face for something. His eyes flick down to your lips and he slowly starts to lean, only for you to suddenly push him away.

"A-Anyways I just wanted to check in on you and see if we were still on for a movie tonight," you stammered.

Vox froze, not listening to your ramblings as he processed your deflection. He felt a sharp, cold sting of rejection in his chest and wondered if maybe you weren't as interested in the relationship as he hoped. His heart started to break, but then he noticed the way you were blushing.

"Why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, I just thought maybe you wanted to-"

"No," Vox grit his teeth as he grabbed you by the shoulders. "Why the fuck won't you kiss me? Every time I try, you pull away. We're dating, so why?"

You blinked up at him owlishly, your jaw hanging open before you grabbed his arms and breathed, "You can kiss?!"

Vox's brow furrowed as he looked you over, "Wh- The fuck are you on about? Yes, I can fucking kiss! I've been trying to kiss you for the past three goddamn weeks!"

You gasped before burying your face in your hands and groaning. "Oh my god, I thought... There were a couple times that I wondered, but this whole time I didn't think you could and I didn't want to be weird and..."

Vox stood taller as he processed your words. You didn't hate him. You weren't repulsed by him. You were just...

He burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he absolutely lost it. "O-Oh my god! You're such a fucking idiot!"

Your face was burning with embarrassment. You knew he wasn't being malicious, but you were still mortified at the misunderstanding. "Oh shut up! It's not my fault you're a flat-faced fucker!"

You were about to go bury your shame into the couch, fully expecting him to hold this against you for the rest of the day, but you were barely able to take two steps before Vox intervened.

You let out a startled yelp as you felt his claws wrap around your arm and yank you back. In the split second it took you to blink, he'd trapped you against a wall. You flinched as his hands slammed against either side of your head, trapping you as he grinned down at you.

"You are so fucking stupid," he snickered.

Your face only grew warmer as your heart pounded with mixed anger, embarrassment, and something else entirely due to the position he had you in. His hand traces lightly over your cheek before cupping the side of your face as he looks at you with the softest expression you'd ever seen from him.

You gasp as he leans down and presses his lips against yours. Your entire body feels like tiny fireworks are dancing lightly over your skin. You shiver as your hands instinctively reach up to grasp at his vest when he pulls you close.

You're both breathing much harder than is necessary when he pulls away. For a moment you just look at each other with half-lidded gazes as you process the sparks that just metaphorically and literally flew. You were pretty sure a bulb went out due to the little bits of blue energy that sparked off of your boyfriend during the kiss.

Speaking of your dork, Vox breathlessly grinned as he squeezed your arms. He let out a small laugh before stepping away from you and turning as more little sparks flew.

"Fucking finallyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!" Vox yelled as he pumped his arms in the air and kicked his legs like a giddy child.

#vox x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

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thebearer · 5 months ago

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Picture this: Carmy taking extra weeks off when Willow is born compared to when Teddy was born (I get the feeling he off for like, ten days and he was CRAWLING UP THE WALLS with the need to be back in the kitchen controlling things) to avoid that shitty dad feeling. Especially because the two of you have to look after Teddy AND new baby Willow. And he's realized you and the kids are more important than the restaurant 100% ❤️

with teddy he took a week and a half off (was supposed to be two but he ended up going back in early bc he’s a control freak). and really, it wasn’t much of a break. the first few days, yes, then he’s calling or people were calling him.

“i just gotta take this for a second.” and it would be a two hour ordeal of him trying to call, order, then call sydney or sugar or richie.

then he starts going in, just for a second. getting things from the office that he left. he was never gone long, he knew better and they’d practically kick him out of the kitchen, but he could not stay away. needed to see with his own eyes that everything was good, worried constantly that it wasn’t and it was falling down around him.

truthfully, by the time he went back, you were glad he was gone bc he was stressing you out. I don’t think he did a full dinner service until two weeks and even then, he only stayed for a little bit. just to greet who he needed to if there was a kitchen tour, or talk to critics, do a few things and he was home honestly before it was closed. very much so a control freak who wore himself so thin, thus causing the absolute break that he had in the devastation fics.

so when willow comes around, he’s much more relaxed. maybe not all the way, but he trusts that richie and sydney and everyone can run it without him. he has more trust, less need for control, and genuinely is kinda excited in a way to be away from the restaurant.

i think he’d take two weeks fully no contact (unless it was an emergency) but then after that he’d come in once a week just to do office things, just when they needed him, would bring teddy to get her out of the house and let you and willow sleep. kinda handle two things situation. it’s more of a gradual thing. he lets sydney honestly call whatever the schedule is based around her.

i mentioned in a baby making blurb (which i think I’m going to turn into a full smut fic lol) that he wanted to plan this time. didn’t want to be careless, wanted to plan the pregnancy so it wasn’t rushed like teddy’s was. and he did just that.

he made sure to plan his schedule so he wouldn’t get overworked or burnt out like last time. he really thought of ways that he could be home, be with you and the girls, but not abandon everyone at work. hired some extra chefs he trusted that he knew from noma or somewhere, just people he trusted, and found a way to makeup for the slack so there would be no more pressure.

does his office things at home (ordering, scheduling, pay roll) during willow and teddy’s nap time. usually had baby willow with him in his office bc she’s chill. he likes to see her, she’s quiet and sleeps better with company, and it lets you be able to sleep without worrying about getting up bc he’s got it. especially if he’s going to be working dinner shift that night and he knows you’ll have to be up.

if he and sydney are meeting up for menu concept brainstorming or tastings or something, he’ll bring teddy, sometimes you and willow along too. it gets you out of the house, if you want to, you get to socialize, taste food, and he can get stuff done. they both like your opinions, so it’s kinda a win.

just things he didn’t do before. before with teddy, carmen was dead set on keeping them separate. in his mind, those worlds couldn’t collide. he couldn’t bring work home bc he thought you’d be upset, and he couldn’t bring you there into the chaos with a baby, so he just overwhelmed himself and exhausted himself trying to make it work.

with willow (carm’s also been to therapy lol), he learned a balance. that they can overlap, to try and ask others instead of guessing and making assumptions, really just how to balance better.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto fluff #dad!carmen berzatto #dad!carmen berzatto x mom!reader #willow natalia berzatto #dorothea “teddy” berzatto

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atxxzist · 1 month ago

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to hell with you | c.s (prologue)

series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 4k

warning: y/n being a serial liar, manipulator & gaslighter. not 4 the faint hearted. somewhat suggestive

a/n: i already told y'all she's gonna b awful

you've had your fair share of disappointments in life--most of them from your parents, other family members who claim to care for your well-being, and some even from wooyoung.

there's only one person who you can ever really count on to not let you down.

"san," he introduced himself, just fourteen years old at the time and still oblivious to what he was getting himself into.

you admit that though you might not excel academically, never caring to go above and beyond and most of the times just barely passing your classes, you have a talent for reading people.

able to tell whether someone is worth your time from just being with them briefly, and choi san was definitely someone worth all the initial fake smiles and enthusiasm because not only did he keep you company because no one else wanted to, san was also quite gifted in the academic department.

as if cursed the day he was seated next to you, you figured out quickly how much of a star student he was, holding a prowess in almost any subjects that would've made your parents proud if he was their kid--and a fact you selfishly used to your advantage.

if it wasn't something coming up that was preventing you from doing your work, it was that you didn't understand the assignment and it'd just be easier if he did both his and your part.

and if it wasn't that, then you were mostly just copying off of him--another thing he made extremely easy because you also picked up quite early on that san likes you.

unfortunately growing up, you were never been one for romance, trashing the concept and rejecting every boys that has ever asked you out, your cousin was convinced at one point you were asexual.

even san, you didn't feel much different toward besides the very obvious facts he made school much easier for you, and that you had someone else to talk to aside from wooyoung.

still, you stuck with him all through high school and even learned to appreciate some parts of him even if they didn't necessarily benefit you in any ways, given the bigger picture was that he was more useful than useless.

san is the only person who has never said no to you regardless of anything, even if he has a hard time with it in general; you having seen first-hand the few times he'd let someone step all over him or be too afraid to ask for money back that was rightfully owed to him.

you had been the voice of reasons for most of those instances, stepping up in his place when he was too timid to do it himself, offended at the mere thought that someone else believed they could just take advantage of san's kindness.

it's incredibly ironic, you understand, because it isn't someone not paying him back or asking to copy a quick problem that's gonna hurt him in the long run.

it's his 'best friend' knowingly and fully aware of the kind of person he is; that maybe sometimes he doesn't say no not because he's afraid, but because he genuinely wants to do it... whether out of goodness or whatever other reasons he has--and exploiting this quality of him.

because you knew he couldn't say no, especially not to you.

not the first time when you lied about being sick so he would do your homework just because you didn't feel like it, and not the most recent when you lied about being away for some 'family business' when you really just flew out to jeju with your cousin for an entire week of vacation, leaving the bulk of your university assignments for san to figure out.

and the worst thing you've ever done according wooyoung, knowing san definitely wasn't gonna say no--asking him to have sex with you.

even if he wanted to, and even if it was consensual, wooyoung having grown a soft spot for the poor boy you've been stringing along--thought it was a horrible idea. he still does.

told you it could get messy quickly, adding something as intimate as sex into an already complicated enough situation when you planned on the relationship staying the same even after.

but you assured him as you always do, saying everything is gonna be okay because san seemed fine with it, and so were you. didn't stop him from saying the same thing he does every time.

"you're sure he's fine with it, or did you just assumed that?"

a remark that always made you roll your eyes, because you didn't doubt a bit that san was more than fine. he likes you, why wouldn't he wanna sleep with you? plus, the idea came up in the first place because it was a known fact between the two of you that you were both virgins.

"i'm failing to see what's the problem?" you shrug nonchalantly, having confessed the deed just the day after it was done and thinking wooyoung would understand, though you should've seen it coming at this point.

"i mean, isn't it better to lose your virginity to someone you trust?" you add, only to the look of disappointment on your cousin's face; the same one he's given you one too many times by now.

(also the same one he gave you after you fessed up about having lied regarding having no classes so you could take the jeju trip with him)

he shakes his head and let out a short breath.

"i'm not here to judge anyone's sex lives because there's a reason one night stands and friends with benefits are a thing, but it's a horrible idea because of the history between you and san. the feelings you know he has for you... you're kind of taking advantage of that."

but in classic you style, you usually don't wanna listen to wooyoung unless he's agreeing with you; letting out an annoyed sigh and making sure he hears it before crossing your arms.

"whatever," you mumble, though wooyoung hears it--not that you care. he's family, so whether you pisses him off or not doesn't really matter all that much.

he says something under his breath that you pretend to pay no attention to.

"you're literally a sociopath."

so maybe san's friends doesn't like you for a reason--not that you really care about that, too. after all, they're not the ones who's known you for years or getting asked for favors--most of which san does so contently, sometimes even offering it himself.

or maybe they don't like that you're always taking him from them, always catching the pure annoyance and eye rolls when you make the slightest appearance at their library table, knowing damn well the only reason why you're even here at all.

you can appreciate yeosang for keeping his composure and acting like he can stand you, even if you probably irritate him just as much as the other two who usually isn't as friendly and will let you know.

"guess who," you say in your sweet voice the same time you cover san's eyes with your hands from behind, nails perfectly painted and all, ignoring the side eye mingi gave you just a few seconds ago when he caught you heading this way.

"hey," san says, a small giggle accompanying his response, prying your hands from his vision gently and turning to meet the pretty smile on your lips.

"whatchu doing?" you ask, peeking over his shoulder that lifts your heels off the floor and makes your short skirt rise just a little, the fabric barely safe enough to cover parts of you that shouldn't be seen, especially in public, to see that he's currently reading through a textbook.

"just finishing up a chapter," he answers, much to the smirk on your lips that's about to say something, when mingi beats you to it.

"just cut to it. no need to act like you actually care about what we're doing, especially anything concerning school works," the boy says harshly, accustomed to your little routine and just how things work in your world, pretending to care about san and anything that doesn't involve you before it will eventually become all about you.

san opens his mouth to defend you, but you cut him off, also well-accustomed to dealing with people like mingi and yunho.

"of course i care. i mean, who wouldn't want to hear all about..." you pause to read the title of the closed textbook sitting in front of mingi, "the principles of physics," you say sarcastically with a high-pitched voice you know will tick his gears.

mingi's grip clenches, and this time, it's san that cuts him off before things can escalate any further (and they will).

he closes the book he was reading and grabs at his backpack quickly the same time he jumps onto mingi's words mid-sentence.

"okay! well we should probably get going," he says, looking down at you with a tiny smile that you return.

immediately, you latch your arm around his and wave to the group of very irritated boys; san barely managing to say a proper goodbye before you drag him away.

"sorry about that," san says once you're both out the library, his face as apologetic as they come.

"it's fine. you know i don't care," you reply, as if getting snide remarks and insults hurled at you is just something as casual and expected as having to eat or drink water everyday, though san tries his best to separate you from his friends because it's too many times that someone ends up with their feelings hurt; 9/10 times that someone either being yunho or mingi.

san nods it off, something seemingly on his mind.

"i-i didn't know you'd show. if i did, i would've suggested we meet out here, or in the dorms."

"i texted you in the morning. you didn't answer," you tell him, stating the obvious but his reaction is as if this is news.

"right. i apologize. i was going to, but i forgot."

you can't help but to crank an eyebrow at the strangeness of it all, but you don't get to linger on the thoughts because san's quick to break it.

"did you have something you wanted to tell me?" he asks.

"i was gonna ask if you'd be free to help me study this friday." as if you already don't know his answer. as if you care whether or not he has something else going on beside to clear all of his schedules at your beck and call.

but expect the unexpected, because san surprises you. he doesn't instantly nod his head or says yes the way you know him to.

instead, he asks in an unsure, almost disappointed voice, "this friday?"

"yeah. right now we're going through some really boring chapters in fashion class. something about the history of it and textiles fundamentals," you tell him, sounding as disheartened as you can, which is usually code for 'i need you to do the work for me basically'.

it takes him longer than needed to finally respond, as if his mind preoccupied and hesitating--a sight you don't think you've ever seen of san before.

"i might have something that friday, so i'll think about it."

and for the first time in your life ever since you've known him, choi san gives you a 'maybe'. gasp. the audacity.

you immediately cross your arms, looking him up and down as if interrogating, saying it playfully and mischieviously but definitely meaning the words coming out of your mouth, "you have something better that friday or what?"

san cooly plays it off and starts walking away the same time he answers, "i said i'll think about it." causing you to skip frantically behind him to catch up before stopping in front of him, the sudden appearance almost causing the two of you to bump into each other.

a stare-off and a couple seconds of silence ensues before you blurt out, "i'll fuck you if you come this friday."

he laughs, the dimples you hate to admit you love, shows itself along with the shake of his head.

"you'd fuck me either way," he says, to a teasing smile on your lips.

"maybe," you mutter, jumping to his side that second to wrap your arm around his again, this time leaning your head on his shoulder to look up at him through your perfectly curled lashes.

"please?" you say in the sweetest voice possible, a pout accompanying your lips to be even more convincing.

but again, he only chuckles it off, mumbling, "we'll see." leaving a permanent frown on your face the rest of the day, because no matter how much you pester him, he isn't moved the slightest.

you can't believe it.

san was a lot more compliant in high school, like he didn't live for anything else but to carry out orders from you. of course, it made sense because you were his only 'friend'.

then came college, the journey that had began a year ago, and within just the first few months, he was telling you about guys he met in his classes who seemed like they actually wanted to be his friends.

guys who shared all the same nerdy interests as him; nose either always in books or video games tournaments you don't really care too much for, though you tried showing some enthusiam whenever san talked about it.

the same guys who sits in the library with him everyday at 12 in the afternoon, probably whispering things into his ears about you and why he should hate your guts, too.

it's no doubt that could be why he's been acting so weird lately.

not texting you as much the past few days, and even completely scrapping the usual schedule you guys had after classes for an entire week now, telling you he and his friends are prepping for a gaming club of some sort.

and you can deal with a little change of behaviors; even some hesitation as long as he comes back around, but you absolutely cannot deal with san straight up telling you no.

"i can't," he says over the phone, his voice stern but still holding back some fear, afraid of your reaction.

"what!" you yell in disbelief. "san, you cannot be fucking kidding me."

this isn't happening.

"i'm sorry. i-i--"

"you what?" you cut him off, the pink in your room now turning red in your vision. "what other better things do you have to do?"

"i'll make up to you, i promise," he tries to reasoning, tone apologetic, but you're still not having it.

"you know what? whatever. forget about it." then you hang up. just like that. just like whenever things doesn't go your way.

what are you supposed to do now? study for your own classes and do your own assignments? unbelievable.

"yeah that's kind of crazy. having to do the work yourself? damn." wooyoung's sarcastic response fills the speaker of your phone, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"shut the fuck up, woo."

you let out a groan and slam the textbook shut, rolling your back onto the bed to stare up at the chandelier.

"i can't do this any second longer. it's pure fucking torture," you complain.

"it's only been five minutes, y/n," your cousin states the obvious.

"i know, and i hate it. why the hell do we need to learn about this shit when i already know all there is to know about fashion?"

"well if you supposedly already know everything, then shouldn't this be a breeze for you?"

"logically. but it's not. all these questions are too fucking specific."

since san isn't gonna be coming in tomorrow, you figure you needed to start ahead of time just so you'll have enough room to moan and groan, having to actually do the work yourself now.

"so what would keep him so busy on such a friday?" wooyoung asks after a necessary moment of peace and quiet in order for you to finish a paragraph.

"he wouldn't tell me, but it was probably something to do with his friends. they don't like me."

since you can't possibly think of any other bigger importance than you on san's list.

"anywho, either later tonight or tomorrow morning, he will most likely reach out again," you add, because that's how it works. that's how it has always worked.

you getting upset or ticked off when your plans fall in shambles, and san always apologizing even if he beared no faults.

but san is just full of surprises this week, because you wake up expecting his name on the screen of your phone given he didn't get back to you last night, but all there is are meaningless notifications from the few apps you have.

you could reach out first but why would you? that would ruin your entire brand.

so you strut to classes and think about the actual crazy possibility that san isn't gonna apologize; that he's actually ignoring you--all of which is hard to wrap your head around currently.

it's only 10 in the morning and it's already the longest you and san has gone without communicating.

you keep yourself busy between classes thinking back to wooyoung's offer last night and reconsidering it.

"now that he pretty much blew you off, why don't you come with me tomorrow? finish what you can tonight. you still have another week anyway. besides, it's better than rotting in your room alone on a friday."

but you had told him with the surest confidence that san was gonna call or text, and you two would've already made up by the time the party starts, so you were not gonna be able to make it.

you can't stand parties in general; the smell, the people, the noise, and just everything about having a bunch of teens and barely young adults in one place is incredibly tacky.

the first one you went out of curiosity, and the second one was because wooyoung, your cousin who's the life of the party, of course, dragged you to it.

he had wanted you to get to know some of his university friends, only for them to unfortunately not even make the event because something came up.

he said they're showing for sure this time.

you tell wooyoung if san doesn't get back to you by 3, you'll go; and you're currently getting dressed to head out with him because san doesn't fucking get back to you at all.

"fuck him," you curse as you plop down in the passenger seat, the offhanded comment causing a burst of laughter from wooyoung. "no, seriously, what the fuck could he be doing?"

san's pretty much ghosting you. your jaw is on the floor.

"okay but is it really ghosting if you haven't even tried reaching out at all?" wooyoung quips, raising an eyebrow at you, already able to see the disbelief currently painting your expression just from his peripheral vision.

"you're not making me feel any better, woo," you whine, crossing your arms and frowning like a child as you stare at the road ahead.

"i'm just trying to be rational here."

"sure, because it sounds like you're always taking his side."

"i'm not picking sides, and even if i am, i'll always try my best to stand behind who's family."

you scoff and roll your eyes, muttering, "sure."

a short silence fly by before wooyoung speaks again, "but if you really wanna feel better, you made the right choice in coming tonight."

but actually being there just makes you do a double take if this was indeed the right choice, because you currently feel suffocated being dragged through the crowd once again by your cousin as he tries to find an open space.

"think somebody tried to touch my ass," you tell him with disgust, patting your wrinkled skirt.

he opens his mouth to respond, but his attention's quickly taken away by someone else; the young man who just came out of nowhere goes to hug your cousin and the two engages in some bro handshake while you just stare, looking as out of place as one can be.

the stranger doesn't seem to notice you until wooyoung switches his gaze back and actually introduces you.

"right. this is my cousin i've been telling you guys all about," he says, nodding your direction that prompts the man to turn to you with an immediate smile.

"ah," the man churns. "y/n, right? i've heard you got quite the personality."

he holds out a hand and you return the gesture politely. if you actually gave a shit about guys, you'd say this man is actually quite pleasant to the eyes.

"oh, i'm curious about just what kind of things wooyoung's saying behind my back," you reply, a faint smirk already on your lips as you meet wooyoung's gaze behind this man.

"nothing but good things, of course," he cries dramatically, rolling his eyes simultaneously; the sight erupting a chuckle from the man whose name you still don't know.

"seonghwa," he finally says, the answer pulling your eyes back to his.

"seonghwa," you repeat to yourself with a tiny smile. "nice to meet you."

then comes hongjoong after; someone whose entrance is a lot bigger in comparison to seonghwa, something about the way he presents himself earning some respect from you--and you can't say that about many people.

seonghwa's a close second, but you probably like hongjoong the best out of wooyoung's friends.

but it's not even a competition regarding who you like least, because you know it the second you're left alone with him when everyone but you and him decides to sit out a drinking game (huge mistake).

"who do you think is gonna win?"

"that was so stupid, if i was playing, i would never do that."

"oh, i really like this song."

"people likes to tell me i got a talent for singing but i don't really know."

you appreciate him for trying to break the ice, but right now, you'd rather watch paint dry.

"look, i really don't care," you spit out, the first words you've spoken ever since the rest left you guys to be.

and you almost expect him to be offended, but you shouldn't have been surprised when he just gawks at you, seemingly unfazed. judging from his obnoxious personality, it only makes sense he has a higher than usual tolerance for someone like you.

"wow," he says casually. "wooyoung's right. you are mean."

you fake a smile and turn your attention back to the ensuing chaos happening in front, voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for jongho to hear, "perfect. i'm glad i got my point across."

"he also said it's best we don't get too close to you even if you're his cousin. but that's okay, i think you're totally hot."

the comment makes you snap your neck to him, a scoff escaping your lips and incredulity crossing your face because you can see his gaze lowering to the end of your skirt.

"seriously, fuck off before i hurt your feelings," you curse at him, rolling your eyes one last time and brushing past his shoulder harshly to get elsewhere, but the boy chases behind you much to your annoyance.

"please! i'm sorry! i didn't mean to!" you can hear him through the shouting music, but you're just dead set on losing him at this point, going everywhere and anywhere; the thoughts of san completely forgotten at the appearance of another problem, when the sudden pierce of a laughter reminds you of it all over again.

one so familiar and close as if you've been hearing it for years, swiftly turning your head to the source, and there he is. choi mother fucking san.

all the reasons and explanations for why he has been acting so strange, and why he blew you off this very night. all so he could come to this party with the very same bitch he told you he didn't care for.

now suddenly sitting across from her and fondly looking at her; a sight that makes your stomach queasy, you don't even care jongho has caught up to you as he bumps right into your back.

in the span of just a few days, san, for the very first time, tells you no and lets you down.

-`♡´-

a/n: i literally cannot use a divider or the post won't show up in the tags 🤡 but there it is, folks. the start of another mess. i'm a liar & for anyone waiting on sweetest lies, i swear i tried so hard to write the final chapter, it literally put me in a writing slump bc i was just not making any progress at all. i just needed to write something and writing this has got me out of the slump temporarily, so for you sweetest lies readers, pls wait just a little more 🙏

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @cherrychristie @santineez @barbielibra

#wooyoung is always at every crime scenes #ateez angst #ateez x reader #ateez series #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut #san angst #ateez imagines #san imagines #fic: thwy

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