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celestialwhoree · 3 months

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Simon coming home to sleepy partner💤☁️

nsfw below the cut 🪽 mdni 🤍

Simon, more often than not, comes home late after getting back from deployments. seeing as after landing on home soil, they still have to mission debrief, collect and pack up their belongings and say their goodbyes, Simon is itching to get back home - back to you.

When he does, and you're all curled up in your shared bed, head resting on his pillow, one of his shirts clutched tight to your chest, sound asleep in his sweater, which had ridden up the arch of your spine to reveal thin cotton panties that have him straining at his boxers. It's when your eyes open at the sound of him dumping his bags, half lidded and lazy until you register his presence and spring up in the bed, running to meet him with tears of relief already pooling on your lower lashes. By no means does Simon Riley consider himself a needy man - in fact, quite the opposite, he's practised restraint his entire life. That said, after months away with nothing but his hand and some very private polaroids to sort himself out, he's desperate, already pushing you back until the backs of your knees are hitting the bedframe, collapsing underneath him with the thick comforter giving a whooshing exhale of air under the sudden addition of your bodyweight.

The latest deployment had been especially tough, stationed in some shithole with no cell service or access to a secure line. Soap had been fine, copping off with local women when he grew bored of his hand, Gaz had Simon fully convinced that he had some kind of erectile dysfunction with how long he could go with no contact, whilst Price and Simon had to settle with a few grainy photos of their partners and the thought that they'd soon be home.

Now, when he noses at your neck and smells sweet perfume and your laundry detergent, it feels very much like a wet dream coming true. He doesn't even bother to fully take your panties off before he's thumbing at your clit through the flimsy material, stripping himself of his gear with one hand. He quickly grows frustrated with the way his dick is straining at the fly of his pants, grunting as he pulls his hand away to strip his clothes off, whilst you take the opportunity to lose your panties, throwing them vaguely in the direction of the hamper , parting your legs and bending them at the knee, waiting for him with your bottom lip chewed anxiously between your teeth. He doesn't even bother kicking his clothes away, kneeling on where they're piled up at the side of the bed as he grabs your hips with hands that have forgotten to be gentle after being rough for so long, pulls you to the edge of the bed, hooking his forearms under your thighs and splaying his hands over your stomach as he noses at your clit. There's a feral, barely concealed glint in his eye as he whispers kisses against your cunt, murmuring how bad he missed you, about how you look more beautiful than when he left. "Missed y' so fuckin' much baby. Missed your angel face." He growls into your skin, the tears mixing in your eyes split between need and pure relief.

He doesn't even bother with his fingers as he licks a hot stripe between your folds, your hips twitching under his hands as he savours you like a last meal. "Si.." You whine out sweetly, voice whiny and utterly pathetic. "Tha's right. Tha's it, gonna let me hear ya?" His Mancunian accent, eroded around the edges from years of travel, and the rumble of his voice have you on edge, hands gripping into the sheets as you let your eyes fall back into your head swimming with utter bliss. "Mmhm!"

Not even a minute later, Simon looks utterly perplexed as you try and shimmy yourself away from his tongue, despite the way your thighs are clamped like a vice around his ears. "Wha's wrong baby?" He growls, messy brows furrowed in concern as he looks up at you in the near darkness of your bedroom. "Jus' need you, Si." You whine, body short circuiting as you consciously attempt to free his face from between your legs whilst the animal side of your brain compels you to keep him there and continue the ecstasy his tongue spearing into you provides. Your needy words cause his expression to perk up as he gently guides your knees outwards so he can actually remove his face from where it's stuffed between your thighs and cunt.

From your position on the bed, and his kneeling beside it, you'd been unable to see the way his cock was already hard and leaking, bouncing against his stomach, but as he pushes you back to the centre of the mattress, you got a full view of his pretty dick as he lines the pearly tip against your entrance, smearing precum against it as though to make the stretch easier (which is a total placebo). His fingers loop through yours as he notches his tip inside, refusing to blink as you take him to the hilt with a quiet whine, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut. "Fuck, 've missed seein' you take me so well." the sound of his grunts and the lewd squelch which accompanies his thrusts is the only thing besides your airy moans and his soft growls filling your blissful bedroom.

The sight of you alone has him almost embarrassingly close to finishing inside of you, but when your pussy flutters around him and you give a choked off keen before cumming around his cock, he gives up on any restraint, snapping his hips so that his tip hits your cervix, ropes of hot cum spilling into your tight heat as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, repeating how perfect you are, how much he loves you and missed you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Meant for this to be some cutie, fluffy little brainrot not 1k of smut Sorry! (not sorry!😚) also this isn't edited because rereading my own writing makes me cringe so apologies 4 any mistakes 🩷

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vaguely-yandere · 2 years

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i feel like there aren't enough sensitive yanderes.

the ones who observe you from more of a distance, not minding it. they prefer it this way, actually. they have issues... controlling themselves around you. it's hard to, when you're just so perfect. they'll make they're move when they can stop the intense trembling and sweating and panting that comes from getting too close. for now, they'll have to stick with exposure therapy.

exposure therapy started off, well, small. as it should. at first, it was taking a drink out of a public trashcan when you were done with it (you're so perfect, you don't even litter when you think no one is there. im there, of course, but you don't know that. not yet.) and just holding it. the cup was still warm from your heat... and probably the fact it was a warm drink but it was probably your heat. your heat. that alone was enough to make their knees shake. they just couldn't help it!

next was going into a store and trying on the exact clothes you had tried on only moments before. they couldn't actually get the clothes on but they could smell just a faint whiff of you. they spent the next hour in the dressing room, just smelling the clothes until they could memorize your scent. pin point what deodorant you wore that day. (are you out of shampoo? i can't smell it around the neckline. but that does give me an idea for my next therapy session..) they bought the clothes. they didn't really have any use for them other the fact they vaguely smelled like you and, well, they assumed you wore them at some point so that made them valuable. they sit folded next to your discarded drink, which was covered in kiss marks and dried saliva.

next exposure session was a lot easier than the others at first but the end was.. overwhelming. they bought your exact brand of shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, perfume/cologne if you owned any, everything that carried a scent. makeup products, laundry detergent, air fresheners, candles, everything and anything to make their house smell like yours. at first, it was euphoric to inhale and smell what they assumed your home must smell like... but your home wouldn't smell like a bath and body works candle. or air freshener. or your laundry detergent. it would smell like human. sweat, dust, dirt, skin cells, it would smell like you, why doesn't it smell like you, they bought all of this stuff and it still doesn't smell like you! how do they replicate the smell of you without you? (i can't- i can't get it right, it's not right, nothing smells right, it doesn't smell like me or like you, why doesn't it smell like you, i tried so hard, i was sure i got everything right and it would smell exactly like your home but it doesn't, i know this isn't what your home smells like, i can't bring you home to something that smells so.. WRONG!) they ended up crying into the week old clothes they bought, desperately trying to smell you and failing, which gave them the motivation for their next "session".

they needed some place to get close to you without drawing attention with their excessive sweating, panting and desperate whines from overwhelming feeling of pure love but they also needed to be close enough to smell you. now, what better way to accomplish those things than to get something of yours? their plan was perfect. simple. just open your window to get a whiff and be on their way! (just a whiff, i promise) but.. you wouldn't be home for a while.. they were right there, they could just pop in really quickly, maybe take some pictures? nothing big! just some pictures and a sniff! (ill be so fast, i won't even be there long enough to leave footprints!) but. the smell. the warmth left behind. the pure feeling of you surrounding them, it was too addictive and they felt like they were overdosing. shaking, panting, whimpering, legs pressed tightly together as they gently touched your bed (still so warm.. you did leave just recently. did you know how cold i was feeling? is this a sign..? you did this for me, right?), feeling the fabric under their fingertips, completely entranced by the way it moved and folded under the slight pressure. it felt like you were holding their hand, luring them into bed for just a quick snuggle, just one quick snuggle and then you'll both leave, right? they wiped their mouth, taking a deep breath to steady themselves. it didn't work but the black dots that had been playfully floating around the edge of their vision faded. they raised their phone and started taking pictures. unsteady, shakey, slightly blurry pictures but they didn't need to be exact, they just needed to be able to see your room layout so they could memorize your style, what things brought you comfort, how you organized things so that when you eventually moved in, it would be less stressful and they're sure you won't miss this old shirt under your bed or these strands of hair or this pair of underwear at the bottom of your laundry basket or this pencil or this hair tie or this bit of dust or this small decoration. (you didn't even notice i licked your toothbrush or kissed your pillow.. in fact, you seemed to sleep even better tonight.. do my indirect kisses relax you, my love? ill be sure to give you more.)

#yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere #vague yandere #sensitive yandere

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jasonsmirrorball · 8 months

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WHERE YOU LEAD JASON TODD

↳ roommate!jason + gilmore girls

“Hey have you-what are you watching?”

You look up from where you’re nestled under your bedsheets and all thoughts of what he was going to ask promptly empty out of Jason’s head. He’s paused, leaning against your doorframe. This is a common occurrence, the wood has borne his weight so many times he wonders if he hasn’t left a dent in the frame.

He likes the routine the both of you have, and that for all you argue with him, you don’t seem to mind too much when he comes in to talk to you. If he had to pick a favourite spot in the apartment, Jason thinks he’d probably choose this, here. Standing in your doorway, the smell of the candles you’d burned the night before lingering in the air and the clutter of trinkets lining your desk.

Your laptop lays atop your sheets, and Jason leans closer to get a look at what’s on your screen.

“I’m watching my show,” you say and he notes the weariness lining your features.

A pang of sympathy strikes through him. He knows the week has been long, and the shadows under your eyes are deeper than they usually appear. He’s given you a wide berth these last few days, not wanting to piss you off any more than you already have been.

“Is that new?” He asks curiously. “Haven’t seen you watch that before.”

You make a face at him, slightly incredulous. “Jason, yes, you have. You literally saw me watching it last week, when you came home from work, remember?”

He squints. The faces on your screen do look vaguely familiar. You sigh.

“Forget about it. What were you saying?”

He grimaces. “Ah, I’ve forgotten now. Your show distracted me.”

You shake your head. When he lingers in the doorway, you look at him funny. “Do you…want to watch?”

Jason shrugs, making his way over. He’s sufficiently curious now, and you move over on your bed to make space for him. Briefly he wonders why the both of you don’t just watch it in the living room, but when he settles onto your mattress and the smell of your laundry detergent hits his nose, he doesn’t mind so much. Your bed is soft, and your room warm against the autumn chill.

The multitude of pillows on your bed make him snicker as he adjusts them, thinking of the various pillow forts he’d coerced his brother into making when they’d been younger. The tv show you’re watching is decidedly a lot tamer than the horror movies they’d stayed up all night watching, always ending with Dick and him creeping into Bruce’s room in the middle of the night, but he finds himself enjoying it all the same.

“So, what’s going on?” He asks and you pause it, looking troubled.

“Maybe we should watch the pilot,” you say. “You aren’t going to get everything that’s going on even if I explain it to you.”

He looks at you flatly. “Seriously? I can do fine on my own with context clues if you’re too lazy to explain it.”

You squawk at him indignantly, swatting his arm. “I am not lazy, you just need to be fully immersed!”

“Whatever, put the pilot on,” he grumbles and you nod, navigating through the website to start the show from the beginning.

And he really doesn’t think he’s going to enjoy it too much–they’re so quippy, it reminds him of Tim and Steph but the sun sinks in the sky and he’s curled up against you, watching mother and daughter exchange witty jokes, enraptured.

You lean against his side, commenting every so often on the nuances of Gilmore Girls, giggling when he scoffs at the characters, muttering his opinions to you in between the lines.

“This Luke guy’s the only sane one here,” he says and you snort. He looks down at you, grinning. “What?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, pressing your fingers to your mouth to hide your smile. He nudges you. “It’s just–I knew you’d say that. He’s so you.”

“He’s so grumpy,” Jason protests and you raise your eyebrows pointedly. His mouth drops open. "You think I'm grumpy?"

"You're not exactly all smiles," you argue, sitting up properly to look at him. He's still reclined against the pillows and for a moment he thinks he sees something flash in your eyes, faltering for the briefest moment before you continue. "You've always got something smart to say."

He laughs. "That's because you make it too easy."

You roll your eyes, and sit back, curling up under the blankets. Jason adjusts your laptop where it had been jostled. "Whatever, shut up and watch the show."

You fall asleep against him to the sounds of Emily and Lorelai arguing, and Jason thinks that when the next weekend comes around, he might have to negotiate with you so that he can continue watching it.

thank u for this request mage!! i hope you don't mind, but i thought it fit in well in the roommate au <3

#jay my heart #jasonsmirrorball #roommate!jason #jason todd x reader #x reader #jason todd reader insert #jason todd imagine

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

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Lavender Laundry (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer realizes that his roommate left a piece of her laundry behind in the dryer. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sub!Spencer, panty snatching, pervert Spencer, (perceived) dubious consent*, mutual pining, mutual masturbating, penetrative sex, humiliation/teasing (Spencer), unprotected sex, degradation * This fic might be hard for people sensitive to themes often depicted in stalking/unrequited love situations. In the fic, it’s all orchestrated and consensual by Reader, but Spencer doesn’t know for sure. Please be cautious and stay safe! Word Count: 4.6k

MASTERLIST

Laundry is such an intimate thing. The vulnerability of cleaning what our bodies have dirtied almost seemed more vulnerable than the act of undressing itself. It is so widely regarded as intimate that we’ve even created entire metaphors around its existence.

To air out someone’s dirty laundry, to bare their soul and all its secrets to the world. To show that we are, at our core, imperfect.

But my roommate’s soul smelled like lavender laundry detergent.

And if I’d known any earlier, I would’ve never let her through the door. If I had known what I would find behind her undressing, I would have told her to find someone, anyone else to torment with soft smiles and kind eyes.

Most days, it was easy to admire her quietly. Most days, she would perch herself somewhere in the comfortable silence. She would busy herself to the point that we would both fail to realize how much of my day was spent watching her.

Occasionally, she would be the one to start up a conversation. I would talk for hours, and she would listen until there was nothing left to be said.

Most days, I could delude myself into thinking that I could handle the situation.

But the nights were never the same.

At night, she came alive. Still quiet, but loud enough for me to hear the gentle sounds of her pleasure. The whimpers and whines filled the room until the sounds bled through the wall between us. I heard her so clearly that I could almost see her, with supple lips parted or pulled between her teeth as she tried to muffle her moans. Her legs shifted under satin sheets as she drove closer and closer to that moment of euphoria.

Some nights, I was weak. Some nights, I would join her in that longing, with one hand wrapped around my own aching lust and the other clutching bed sheets that still vaguely smelled like lavender.

I would wake in the morning with a terrible sense of guilt for having taken advantage of a young woman’s moment of vulnerability. The next time I heard her whispering sweet nothings to herself, I would bury my face in my hands until it was over.

But then she would do it again the next night, and I would come alive again, too. If only for a little while.

On those mornings, she would look at me with a seemingly knowing smile. She would hand me a cup of coffee and her fingers would linger, and I would be forced to wonder if she was trying to communicate something to me.

I would create whole universes within that split second where our fingers touched each other instead of ourselves.

We hadn’t had one of those days in a while. Truthfully, every night I sat with my ear practically pressed against the wall, just waiting, wishing to hear any evidence of her indulgence on the other side.

I’d accepted that she’d probably found some other way to appease her desire. I’d never lingered long on the thought because I couldn’t bear to imagine her with another man.

Some days were harder than others. The hardest were days like that one, days sat in her favorite seat on the couch in the hope that the breeze might bring the lavender back to me. And although it might be a little pathetic, I indulged myself in a different way. A simple load of laundry that would also smell like her detergent.

But as I carefully folded each familiar article of clothing, my fingers stumbled upon something new. Something soft like velvety petals, something decorated with intricate lacework patterns that made my heart race before I’d even seen them.

I lifted the lavender-colored lace from the rest of the laundry with a trembling hand. My mind immediately began weaving hundreds of thousands of hypotheticals, images paired with sounds that echoed through every cell in my body.

I knew that I should return them. I knew that it was almost certainly nothing but a simple mistake, a failure to check the dryer closely enough before shutting the door.

But when I heard the door open and her voice call my name, I panicked. I shoved the secret beneath my pillow and told myself I could feel bad about it later.

I carried myself as well as one could while doing something as juvenile as stealing a pretty young woman’s undergarments, which was to say, not at all. If she’d known what I’d done, she said nothing of it. She just came to greet me with that soft smile and those kind eyes that always seemed to know things that they shouldn’t.

That night, I laid in bed and stared at the ceiling as I contemplated whether this had all gone too far. I’d even begun trying to convince myself that my secrets hadn’t been secrets at all — that she had known what she was doing since the first night, and had enjoyed the very same game.

I pictured her with her ear pressed against the wall, too. Waiting for permission for debauchery the same way I had.

When it didn’t come, however, she took it into her own hands. With the same hand that lingered against my skin, she would touch herself. I could hear it, see it, feel it at my core. Without even thinking, I would let her sounds guide me until I was right there with her.

Except that time, I found myself reaching beneath my pillow before I reached below my belt. I clutched silky fabric while I fought my inner demons. I fought the guilt and the shame the only way I could think to do. I pressed the garment against my face, and I felt the way my scruff caught on its delicate fibers. My breathing got deeper, and the intoxicating scent of lavender petals called to me like a dream, begging me to follow her into the fantasy.

It was vivid, so overwhelming that before I knew it my hand carried the softness down. Lower, and lower I went until I could feel the satin with the utmost detail. I dragged lilac fabric over my cock until I felt her there, too. The scent of her lingered on my face and I could almost imagine what it would be like for her hair to tickle my face as she gasped in my ear.

‘Spencer,’ she would call into the night.

“Y/n…”

I hadn’t even realized that I’d said it aloud because she had grown louder and more reckless. Her whimpers turned to whorish moans that felt like they would carry through the walls and shake loose the secrets we kept on each side.

My breathing got harder and sharper until I could hardly finish a single breath. With empty lungs, I still called her name. I still moved a feverish hand in quick motions, still used her intimates to mimic her intimacy.

I rode the line between guilt and euphoria and I had no intention of letting go of the pleasure so soon.

But I swore that I heard her call, “Spencer.”

And I was left with nothing but dirtied lavender laundry once more.

Spencer usually smelled like freshly brewed coffee and vanilla creamer. I often joked that the sweetness in his heart was the true source of the heavenly scent. But Spencer, through an awkward smile on a beet-red face, would insist that it was just the soap he used.

But some days Spencer smelled like lavender. And I knew why that was, too.

It wasn’t his fault that he was so shy. He couldn’t be blamed for fearing intimacy. His life had been a series of tragedies that had left him with no discernible notion of confidence.

But on those days where Spencer smelled like lavender, he was bold. I knew that because I could feel the weight of his lust through inches of plaster and wood. I could hear heavy breathing so clearly that some nights it felt like he was right beside me.

And in a way, he was. He wanted to be, and so he was.

To him, I figured the fantasies were the best he had available. But I wanted more. I craved him. I longed for his touch to be more than a mild mid-morning lingering of fingertips. I wanted to consume him, to burn the image of myself onto his body so that we were never really apart again.

I had to be certain that these feelings were as requited as I’d hoped. I couldn’t delude myself into thinking that he’d cared about me and risk the rejection of the best roommate I’d ever had. Luckily, it was easy enough to plant the seeds of lust. The small, petal-soft sign of the lavender’s bloom.

There were many things I’d anticipated, but him keeping the garment was near the bottom of the list. Its surprise, though, was not borne of disappointment. In fact, I’d never been so thrilled as when I’d come home to find him innocently folding laundry through a sheen of sweat. I could see how his hands shook like they’d been burned. The satisfaction stoked the flame in my heart until it was almost unbearable to see him.

The anticipation was so exquisite that I couldn’t let it go yet. That night, I touched myself and I felt the difference in his company. I pressed my palm against the wall between us like he would be able to feel me, too.

Well, more than he already did with my underwear shoved between his hand and his dick.

It still wasn’t enough. The next morning he was riddled with an odd mixture of pride and shame that he could barely look at me without losing his breath. Yet I could feel that darkness, that charred remnant of his dwindling insecurities.

And I decided to let the fire rage until the whole world smelled like burnt lavender smoke.

That night when I approached his door, I was unsurprised to find it cracked open like it always was. With a slightly hesitant hand, I announced my presence with a gentle knock before I crossed the final threshold.

Spencer didn’t speak. He just looked away from his book and up at me with a furrowed brow and a bitten lip.

“Can I ask you for a favor?” I asked.

“Sure, of course. Anything,” he answered. Exactly as I’d thought he would.

And oh, did I watch him swallow the words. With just one step towards his bed, his regret was audible, palpable like his bobbing Adam’s apple and his shifting body under the covers. He saw how I had never intended to let the edge of his bed stop me.

Instead, I crawled onto it. Armed with a smile and more than enough knowledge of his misdeeds, I made sure that the next time my hand fell, it landed on his thigh beneath the sheet.

“W-What are you doing?” he asked as if it weren’t already clear.

As I continued to crawl on top of him, I purred, “I need your help.”

“With… what?”

Try as he might’ve, Spencer couldn’t keep his eyes on mine. They darted down, but never away. They stayed on me with that same precision and care that he’d always had when he looked at me. I didn’t need to imagine what he saw because I had been sure to wear something to keep his attention. A simple opaque negligee that left just enough to the imagination.

I was certain he’d had more than enough time on his own to imagine the parts of me he couldn’t see. That was why when I came to settle in his lap, with my thighs straddling him and my heat pressing against his hardness, his eyelids fluttered shut.

They were only shut as long as it took me to speak.

“I lost something,” I said.

His eyes shot open.

“Have you seen them?”

“Um…” He swallowed again, forcing himself to look at me as he set the now forgotten book on the nightstand beside his bed. But the poor fool had missed the barrier immediately. He hadn’t been expecting me to move closer, but I did.

The movement was enough to force the words out of his throat in a significantly higher pitch.

“Seen… what?”

I lowered further. He shivered when my breath hit his face, hot and humid and filled with longing. I came close enough that my hair tickled his skin and left his whole body trembling just in time for me to whisper into his ear, “I think you know.”

There was silence. Even the clock on the wall seemed too frightened to make a sound. Spencer was the first to break it with a small, shy whimper when he felt my bodyweight move. Then, the bed creaked as I reached below his pillow.

As soon as he realized what I was doing, he shouted, “No—!”

But he was too late. I had already found what I was looking for. There, dangling from my finger in front of his face was the very piece of fabric I’d so carelessly ‘lost.’

Spencer said nothing. He just stared in horror, with wide eyes and blown pupils in the darkness. I could feel the tension and fear in chattering bones. And when I ground my hips down against him, I relished the way it made his whole body writhe.

The embarrassment hadn’t been enough to persuade his blood to move elsewhere, it seemed. In fact, my seat seemed even more suitable the longer I afforded him that self-righteous smirk.

“Naughty boy,” I said with a giggle.

I almost felt bad about it, too. But I could feel his dick jump at the reprimand, and I stored away that thought for future use. For the next time that I would crawl into his bed late at night.

Spencer couldn’t share the excitement buzzing through me at the half-baked fantasy, though. He was too busy trying to get enough blood to his brain to make a single coherent sentence.

“I…”

So close.

“I’m sorry,” he finally whimpered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

And while he might’ve meant it somewhat, he didn’t fully believe it. He wasn’t sorry that he’d taken them. He was sorry he’d gotten caught.

“Ooh, I don’t think you are,” I sighed. With a smile, I twirled the fabric in my fingers. When I saw he was about to open his mouth to explain, I pressed the lace against his lips with two fingers.

I felt how tightly he held his mouth shut. I felt how badly he wanted to part peach-pink lips to welcome me in.

“You know, this is my favorite pair. I even had to buy a replacement when they went missing,” I explained through an exaggerated pout. Through feigned sadness, I sighed again.

I dragged my fingers away from his lips to take them to more interesting places. I placed the clean underwear next to him and drew my hands slowly up my thighs. Spencer’s eyes shot ahead before my fingers ever breached the hem. His pulse went wild — I felt it and saw it through the fast, fluttering vein in his neck.

He’d realized before I grabbed hold of the bottom of my negligee. He had already started to imagine what was underneath before I ever asked.

“Do you want to see them, Spencer?”

He nodded. I dropped my head to the side like I hadn’t received any answer at all. My eyes followed his Adam’s apple as he swallowed his anxieties. He fought through the insecurities and let that animal in him come through.

It was still meek, still small. But the single word was laced with enough desire to make me ache.

“Please...” he whispered.

He looked up at me with half-lidded eyes that seemed more dark than light. His hands inched closer to me until his fingertips brushed over my thighs. He lazily fiddled with the satin covering me, but he never once looked away from my face.

“Please what?” I asked.

Then, with enough confidence that I barely recognized the sound, he said, “Let me see them.”

I tried to hide the goosebumps the beg had elicited, but it would be a fruitless effort. It didn’t matter if he couldn’t see, because he felt the way my body responded. As my muscles tightened around empty space, Spencer smiled.

No, he smirked.

“I’ll let you see them… under one condition,” I said, sort of stumbling over the words as I fought to take back my power.

The power which he surrendered immediately and without any doubt.

“Anything,” he breathed. That time, I believed him.

I rewarded his honesty by lifting the hem of my negligee. He let it slip from his fingertips unhurried. Slowly, his eyes traced the newly discovered lines of my body. With just his eyes, he caressed me more gently than I’d ever felt before.

“You have to take them off,” I told him. The poor thing had become so distracted by the sight before him that it seemed like he’d already forgotten the purpose behind my words.

But once that genius brain caught up to our current position, he sprung into action. Still quiet, still soft, Spencer let shaky hands finally make contact with my skin. He flinched at the heat radiating from my thighs, but he reveled in it all the same.

For all his haste in sitting up and hooking his fingers under, he still hesitated to remove the garment. If it had been anyone else, I might’ve become worried that he was rethinking the whole endeavor. I would’ve worried that his fantasy was better than the reality of it all.

But there was no doubting the love he exuded. The love-ladened lust in his eyes and the tenderness in his touch left nothing to be feared.

He simply wanted to look at me a little bit longer to ensure that he would remember it perfectly. Then, when he was sated, he was careful in helping not only to remove the barrier but to also guide me back to my original, well deserved throne. He used his hand on the back of my neck not to cause pain, but to urge me closer.

His lips were as soft and attentive as I ever could have imagined. While I had theorized that he was not nearly as chaste as his mannerisms made him seem — and I had been right about the panty snatching — I was happily surprised to find that our noses and teeth still bumped. It was still easy, still fun to be loved by something so innocent.

“Is the real thing better than your fantasies?” I whispered against his lips.

“Yes,” he answered with that same eagerness with which he’d kissed me.

Every few seconds, I would tense my stomach with need. Each time, he would buck his hips back, almost like our own kind of language. Like our bodies were reaching for one another. His erection strained against the loose fabric of his boxers until he couldn’t take it any longer.

“Please, I want to make you feel good,” he rasped. Then, when he decided he hadn’t stated his intentions with enough specificity, he groaned, “I want… to hear you say my name.”

He’d left off the ‘again,’ but I knew he’d heard it before. The last time we touched ourselves to the thought of the other, I’d said his name, and he’d said mine. Although he wasn’t the only one who’d wanted to hear it again, I figured his pride hardly needed another boost.

So, I teased, “Is that right, baby?”

Though it wasn’t his name, he was hardly disappointed in the moniker. It sounded too pretty to stop then, so I said it again.

“You want to fuck me, baby?”

“Please,” he muttered as his eyelids fluttered shut from the tension burning through every cell of our bodies.

Even when I reached through the hole in his clothing, he didn’t stop.

“Please,” he said again, and again. “Please.”

The words stopped when I pulled him free from fabric constraints, but he was hardly silent. Instead, he broke out in a string of slurred curses and whimpers that took my breath away. I held him harder, feeling his pulse against my fingers as I started to make loose strokes that would never be enough of me.

I almost thought he would finish before the fun even started. I figured he would be such a shy, obedient boy that he wouldn’t dare to ask. But even his patience had its limits, it seemed. His hands were almost absent in the way he started to pull my hips forward. His eyes shut for a moment, as if he couldn’t stand to watch me as he fantasized about using my body to its fullest potential for his most unholy desires.

I let him keep those pretty hazel eyes shut. I knew they would open of their own accord when I got into position. Sure enough, as soon as he felt the tip of his dick run along slick folds, his eyes shot open.

“Please,” he sobbed, “I want you so bad it hurts.”

When I smiled, he swallowed. With even more urgency, he pleaded, “I’ll do anything. Just, please, god, let me feel you.”

It hadn’t been the first time that I’d been called a God, but it had certainly been the most flattering. There was no denying how fervently he believed it. He looked at me and saw something divine enough that he was willing to give up any hint of propriety to have me closer.

I answered his call, although I took my sweet time. I savored each microexpression, each quick, sharp breath as I started to take him in. Lowering over him, I stayed far enough away that our lips barely brushed against each other with each heavy breath. I stole his breath and the flames inside me grew stronger until I was as lost in the haze of burnt lavender smoke as he was.

It was only then that I purred, “You’re so pretty when you beg, Spencer.”

Without a second of hesitation, Spencer’s hands on my hips pulled me down with one motion. My legs trembled at the intrusion, but the tension was more than welcome. I cried out in pleasure, surprised to find that there was no pain.

I struggled to readjust to the feeling of him, the fullness between aching walls that craved more. The two of us tried to breathe, but our lips were too inviting not to touch. I kissed him despite the mutual breathlessness. We gave in to the animalistic desire without regret.

Spencer remained attentive and eager. His motions were slow, but they were deep and purposeful. I could feel him dragging against tight walls. I could see him memorizing them and storing them away for the next time that we couldn’t share a bed.

The thought brought back so many happy memories, so many nights of longing that had led us to where we are. At that point, he had already won. We both had won. Because we were there, with our limbs entangled and tongues swapping spit.

Our bodies kept speaking in that cryptic language even when our mouths couldn’t make words. Each twitch of our muscles acted like a catalyst that left us falling apart again. And although Spencer hadn’t been the strongest man, he held me together with his everything.

Just as I thought how badly I wanted to feel him lose control, his restraint slipped and he drove up into me while his hands forced me down.

“God, you feel even better than I imagined,” I gasped between long whines.

“It’s all for you,” he explained with the little bit of air his lungs allowed.”

With even more need, he sobbed, “I’m yours. All yours.”

He offered me the reins, and I took them.

“Mine, huh?” I chuckled.

My hand flew to his throat like a magnet to iron. I dug my nails into it just enough to feel the way he struggled, then I let him go. Just for a second, just until I cupped his jaw and forced him to look at me.

But that clever boy flashed me such a pitiful, adorable little stare that I only wanted to torture him more. My mind went back to how this started, to the way his whole body responded when I teased his perverted, panty-snatching tendencies.

“You wanna be my new toy?” I cooed.

“I-I…” he tried to answer, but then his whole stomach tensed like he’d been punched in the gut. His breathing got even faster and his eyes could hardly stay put as he whined, “Oh, god.”

“What a nice, pretty little toy,” I said just to watch him suffer.

And he did. His pleas turned to unintelligible blubbering that always ended with my name. His hands had stopped pulling me down and were now trying to ease my descent, trying to prolong the feeling a little bit longer before it was over.

“We’ll have to work on your stamina then, Spencer.”

“Please,” he tried again. His teeth were clenched and his eyes were devoid of any thought other than the need for release.

He was putty in my hands. Pretty, pliable putty that would do whatever I asked of him.

It was everything that I’d ever wanted. So, it was only fair to show him what he asked for. Mercy.

“But for now…” I whispered, drawing out that delicious tension for a few seconds longer. Then, with my eyes locked on his and my palm holding his pink cheek, I issued my own beg.

“Come for me, Spencer.”

With all the permission he desired, Spencer found his release. Blunt hands dug into my skin hard enough to bruise. I welcomed the sting. I wanted to feel the full force of his strength, his desire for me as he claimed as much of my body as he could. He painted the space between my legs with his longing and wrote his name in teeth marks on my bottom lip. But I still found the softness in the gentle twitching of a spent cock.

In the quiet that followed the chaos, I heard him still whispering my name like a holy word.

I stood from my throne without warning. I felt the heat of his touch dripping from between my legs, and I left him messy with the aftermath. I started to leave the room, but paused when I heard him croak another beg.

“Don’t leave… Please.”

I smiled. Not because I relished torturing him, but because I had no intention of doing such a thing. Instead, I merely wanted to offer him a look at my trembling legs coated with his desire.

Because I wanted him to watch as I picked up the dirty, discarded underwear from the floor beside us.

“Don’t worry, baby,” I said to the poor confused thing.

Before I’d even touched him, he yelped at the thought of me using soft silk to clean him. I felt him tremble with pain, pleasure, and love as I dutifully collected everything the fabric could hold.

And as I dropped the fabric that no longer smelled anything like lavender into his hand, I giggled.

“We’ve got a whole other pair to make a mess of.”

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #imaginingafterdark #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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get-shiggy-with-it · 3 years

Text

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less.

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming.

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more.

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?”

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair.

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie.

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late.

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest.

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled.

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in.

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class.

Of fucking course you did.

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall.

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of.

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that.

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule.

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you.

Fucking disgusting.

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top.

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica.

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist.

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D.

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working.

This was going to be a nightmare.

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again.

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging.

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not.

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy.

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for.

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence.

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell.

And god if he thought you were irritating.

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop.

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions.

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier.

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A.

That walking condescension on the other hand—

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask.

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it.

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.”

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression.

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence.

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees.

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing.

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did.

“Really? Well they should.”

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head.

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.”

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie.

God just talking to you made his skin burn.

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see.

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed.

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option.

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else.

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.”

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up.

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever.

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch.

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long.

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either.

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something.

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat.

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.”

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out.

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support.

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day.

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge.

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.”

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.”

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks.

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him.

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity.

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff?

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him.

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension.

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware.

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers.

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone.

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either.

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours.

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand.

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students.

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text.

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #bnha fanfiction #tomura shigaraki imagines #fem!reader #incel!shigaraki #college au #bee.writes

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hotchley · 3 years

Note

I'm so tired please give me soft Hotch and protective Morgan content ♥️

Aww it’s okay to be tired and take a break and if you ever want to talk, my asks are still on, and I feel like I’m getting to this really late because I was probably sleeping when this was sent?

Anyways, this is just a little image I’ve had floating around my head. I’ll cross-post it to my ao3.... later because at it’s 5:41am and I want to go to sleep.

I may have missed the mark with this?? I don’t know, we have protective Morgan showering Hotch with compliments and Hotch being himself about the whole thing so I feel like it counts.... also the ending will make sense at the end

This is set during Gabby, but that’s not that relevant because I barely remember what actually happened in that episode, just that Hotch got punched by Sue.

Warnings: canon-typical violence (Hotch gets punched but it’s not graphic, just an event, and something referenced)

fifty-two minutes

Hotch knew he was going too far as he insulted Sue's abilities to parent Gabby, but he also knew there were certain things that had to be done for cases. He needed to know. Everyone needed to know whether or not she was capable of doing the unspeakable. If she was the one responsible for Gabby's disappearance. And the only way he could do that was by pushing. By pushing until she snapped and reacted.

He had just assumed her breaking point would lead to some form of verbal retaliation. Something about the lack of wedding ring, even though there was still a tan line because on the days where he missed Haley so much it was all-consuming, he would put it on, just for a few moments to remember the version of her that had been everything to him. He assumed she would make her own biting comment about how he wasn't with his own son. There was only one reason behind the glitter on his shirt. Derek had found his horror at being informed about its existence hilarious, but that was besides the point.

He hadn't thought she would punch him, square in the jaw, with all the rage of a scorned woman. He hadn't expected it to hurt as much as it did, or that it would immobilise him as much as it did. As he stumbled back, he was vaguely aware of the guard entering, but it hurt like a bitch. It took everything in him to remember how to de-escalate the situation without causing anyone further harm, but he did it, and then him and Dave left the interrogation room, armed with new knowledge.

"So how do you know this?" Derek asked casually.

Hotch didn't quite meet his eyes, staring at his eyebrows instead. He loved the way Derek treated him like he was the most precious and valuable person on the planet, and he loved that with him, he could be Aaron- the soft man that enjoyed theatre and was willing to get glitter all over his work clothes for his son.

But there was a time and a place for that, and it wasn't here, no matter how much he wanted to feel Derek's arms around him, grounding him to the moment and convincing him everything was going to be fine.

"She... reacted to my comment about motherhood," Hotch said, acting very much like the Southern-born gentleman talking about something unsavoury that he was. As if on cue, his jaw seemed to ache once more, and he was reminded of the need to actually deal with injuries instead of hiding them.

"Reacting? Aar- Hotch, what did she do?"

Hotch loved the way Derek would say his first name, sometimes exasperated, sometimes through a fit of uncontrollable laughter, occasionally with annoyance, but always with love and affection sprinkled in. He also loved the way Derek called him Hotch. Like there was a secret joke between them, and in some ways there were.

Dave liked to think he was the only one on the team to consistently call him Aaron, but he wasn't. Not anymore.

"She may have responded with physical violence," Aaron said, voice quieter than usual. He started shuffling the files around. Alex tapped the table, and Spencer smiled at her, leaving to go and get a coffee refill. JJ was already out with the sheriff, so there was nobody left to distract from the situation.

"Physical violence?" Derek sounded worried.

"Sue punched Hotch in the jaw," Dave filled in.

Aaron spun around to face him, looking betrayed. "Dave!"

"He was always going to find out. And your jaw is starting to bruise," Dave said, smirk on his face.

"She punched- Aaron you can't just not- Dave can you cold the fort down for a few minutes?" Derek asked, already going round the table. Aaron looked down, knowing that if he saw Derek's eyes, he would start smiling like an idiot.

"Take as long as you need," Dave said, winking.

Aaron flushed, Derek rolled his eyes but smiled, and then grabbed his boyfriend's arm and dragged him to the bathroom.

"Der- Derek what are you doing?" Aaron stuttered. He hated that he stuttered whenever he got anxious, but he didn't want people spreading rumours. Or making assumptions, because yes they were together, but that didn't mean they were sneaking away to do that.

Luckily, Derek dragged him right past the bathroom and into an empty and unused conference room, which in some ways was almost worse. He pulled out a chair and forced Aaron to sit. Not that he needed to force him to do anything. For Derek, Aaron would do anything. Apart from admit that he enjoyed wearing his shirts because they smelt like home. That would be his pretend secret.

"I'm treating the injury you tried to hide from me!" Derek said.

Aaron scoffed. "I didn't hide it! I just didn't tell you the moment I saw you that the information we got came at the price of a punch! And it's not that bad, my jaw just aches. It's nothing new- get your mind out of the gutter you know my hearing messes with my jaw!" he said, voice rising in pitch when Derek smirked.

"But honey, I didn't say anything," Derek said, grining. "And is that really your best argument? Some prosecutor." It was teasing though, and Aaron smiled, because even as he'd said it, it had sounded stupid.

Derek left, closing the door behind him, and without case files to distract him, the pain in his jaw- which was worse than he had been willing to admit- became more prominent and he decided that Derek was the best thing to ever happen to him. And then he started wondering when he'd become such a sap.

"I got the first aid kit, and some ice. I reckon that's all we can do, but just before that, can I just check that it's not dislocated?" Derek said as he returned. And Hotch accepted that he'd always been a sap, it was just amplified by Derek's love.

"She didn't punch me that hard," Aaron whispered, still wincing when Derek pressed two fingers to the spot that was bruising.

"Mhm. Whatever makes you feel better. But seriously, does anything feel wrong?"

Aaron shook his head. He closed his eyes as Derek poked and prodded him more, the touch still comforting even though there was some necessary force behind it. He had never felt better than he did in the soft and silent moments like this, when they could just exist and not feel the need to fill the silence with unncessary words, because the silence said more than sentences ever could.

He let out a yelp as the ice packet was pressed to the skin that was definitely bruising. "Derek!"

"Yes honey?"

Aaron blushed at the pet name, looking down at his boyfriend. He hadn't even realised that Derek had been kneeling by his side, staring at him with such adoration and love in his eyes that it physically hurt Aaron's chest to see just how capable of good things people were.

"Warn me next time," he said, pouting slightly.

Derek smiled. "Of course sweetie." He didn't let go of the ice pack, even though Aaron was fully capable of holding it himself. It was nice though, if a bit of a strange image. One man in a chair, looking down as his partner knelt on the floor holding the ice pack with a suprising amount of genteless. He took Aaron's hand in his own, drawing circles over the knuckles the same way Aaron would.

Aaron looked down, mesmerised by how well Derek knew him. By the fact that he got to call such a good man his everything.

"Okay, it's been a decent amount of time, the pain and swelling should go down. It's still going to bruise, so I'll take Jack to soccer practice when we get back, otherwise all the other parents are going to be drooling instead of watching and we can't have that, can we?" Derek said after both sides of the ice had gone warm.

"Derek," Aaron warned.

"Aaron," Derek mimicked. "Seriously though, they're all going to be back now."

"I know," he sighed.

Derek stood up, letting out a slight wince. Aaron couldn't help but smile. Derek was always teasing him about his back pain and the fact that he was getting older with every passing day, but the same could also be said of him.

"I love you," he whispered as Derek took his hand to help him stand up, even though he could have done it himself. The words had never come easy to him, not with Haley, not with Jack, but he was getting better. And when Derek said them, he never expected a verbal response, knowing Aaron said them in every other possible way.

"I love you too," Derek said, pressing a kiss to Aaron's hair. Aaron let his eyes flutter closed as Derek pulled him closer for one final hug. He inhaled deeply, the smell of Derek's shower gel and deodorant the most comforting thing, alongside the laundry detergent he used because Haley had.

When they re-entered the conference room they had set up base in, Alex wordlessly asked if everything was okay. Aaron nodded at her, gratefully accepting the coffee she held out to him.

"Fifty-two minutes is not a few," Dave said, but there was no malice behind them.

"What can I say? I cannot resist beautiful men," Derek said.

Aaron hit his arm, cheeks warm with embarrassment but heart warm with love.

#mortch #hotgan #criminal minds #drabbles #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #sumayyah writes cm

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definitelynotkatesblog · 4 years

Text

6 AM ∣ Spencer Reid Fic

Summary: Mornings suck, but mornings with Spencer aren’t so bad.

A/N: I am such a sucker for Domestic! Spencer it’s ridiculous. I choose to believe that he is such a care taker type, a doting partner, and so soft and sweet in the mornings. If he was the one waking me up, maybe I wouldn't hate mornings so much either.

(Also be on the lookout for this pic’s second part called 6 PM that’s a little lot a bit smut. Don’t worry they can be read totally independently of one another!)

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Category: Fluff

Warnings: A lil kissin

WC: 1.6k

I’m not a morning person. I am not a morning person. People who wake up excited to take on the day with no hesitation or cup of coffee scare me.

Even if I get a decent amount of sleep, there is always about 20 minutes in the morning where the world is my personal enemy. The sun’s brazen audacity to rise, starting a new day. The birds screaming, disturbing the quiet peace of the outside world. The nerve of a car engine to make any noise. I consider all of these acts of aggression against me personally.

Luckily, Spencer knows these things about me and loves me despite my flaws. When he is home between cases, he makes a habit of getting up before me to help me get ready. If the team got home at the wee hours of the morning, he would help me get out the door before heading to bed himself.

To be clear, I am perfectly capable of getting myself dressed and out the door. However, if Spencer is willing to help me along and make the process less shitty, I’m not going to tell him no.

Mornings with Spencer are my favorite, which is saying a lot.

***

I felt the bed shift under me as he slowly untangled our limbs before starting the day. I grumbled and pulled the comforter tighter around me to replace his warmth.

I heard him pad into the bathroom and brush his teeth before cracking the door to check in on my degree of consciousness.

He flicked on the string lights draped along the headboard and a soft glow filled the room. We’d learned the overhead light was too much so early in the morning for me, and I think Spencer had grown to appreciate the vibe it created. With my eyes still closed, I heard him make his way over to my side of the bed.

“Good morning, sweet girl.” he said gently, brushing stray hair from my forehead before dropping a quick kiss on my temple.

I offered a tired groan in place of words.

“Mmm, I know,” he cooed.

My eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the light to see him kneeling by the bed with a small boyish smile.

I scrunched my brows at him. There was nothing worth smiling at, especially at this ungodly hour.

His hand skated along my neck to cup my cheek.

“Come,” he instructed gently.

I kicked the comforter off in protest and swung my legs over the edge. He stood and grabbed my hands, pulling me up to stand before him. I sighed and leaned into his chest, taking in his scent. He was always warm and smelled like our laundry detergent. He let me rest for a moment, then cupped my face to lift my head to kiss my forehead before taking my hand, leading me to the bathroom.

He gave me a pat on the bottom before disappearing to the kitchen, leaving me to start my morning routine. Which, if this was a Neutrogena commercial, would begin with me splashing my face over a giant porcelain sink and smiling about it.

My routine starts with me staring at myself in the morning and convincing myself that I do love my job and that I shouldn’t call in sick and snuggle back into bed with Spencer.

I wash my face and brush my teeth, the minty toothpaste and warm water waking me up.

By this time, I’m usually more awake, but still bitter about it.

Spencer pokes his head in and watches me for a moment while I finish brushing and spit. We make eye contact in the mirror and I give him a weak smile to convince him I'm making progress on becoming a functioning member of society.

“Lights,” he says, his hand already on the switch. It’s more of a courtesy warning than a question.

I give a noncommittal nod and squint my eyes, bracing for the small room to be flooded with light. After a moment, I let my eyes adjust and start opening drawers to find my bag of tricks.

“I could just call out. I have the sick time saved up,” I mumble, raking my fingers through my hair.

“Yeah?” I hear tinkering in the kitchen and continue my rant.

“Yeah. They wouldn’t even miss me if it was for one day. They’d be fine.” I lean into the mirror to tuck a few stray strands behind my ears, inspecting the bags under my eyes.

At that, he pops his head through the door and gives me an incredulous look through the mirror. I shoot him a look back with my eyebrows raised.

“Creamer?” he asks with a cheeky eye roll, not acknowledging my previous statement.

He knew better than to entertain my grumpy mumbles with anything but vague answers. There were no important discussions to be had and no rash decisions to be made before coffee, as a rule of our home.

I nodded as he retreated back to the kitchen and continued, “If someone told me not to go, I wouldn’t.” I pulled his hoodie I’d slept in up over my head, “I would simply go back to bed with said person and try again tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you would, love,” he called from the bedroom.

I walked past him and into the closet to find something to wear, tossing his sweatshirt on the bed as I passed.

“Ugh, I don’t know what to wear,” I whined, crossing my arms over my chest.

I pulled a dress out from between two others, decided it against it and put it back, repeating the process several times, suddenly not happy with anything I owned.

I sighed and let my arms fall to my side, staring at the carefully hung fabric feeling defeated, vaguely aware that I was wasting time I didn’t have just standing here.

“As much as I love you not in any clothes-”, he said from behind me, slipping his arms around my waist.

I laughed and leaned into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, turning me around and cupping my cheeks to bring our faces together.

I gave him a smile and brought my hands to rest on his forearms, puckering my lips to reach his.

His lips were soft and unhurried, molding to mine. I sighed into the kiss, my hands moving to cup his face, pulling him even closer to me. His hands left my face and found themselves on my hips, his fingers splaying towards the small of my back; the warmth of his hands on my skin made me hum against his lips. I felt him smile into the kiss before slowly raking my bottom lip between his teeth, igniting a small flame low in my belly.

He continued the slow kisses down my neck, focusing his attention on the spots that rewarded him with the most moans falling from lips.

Spencer hummed between kisses, leaving goosebumps in their wake, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. He pulled me closer, connecting us at the hips before returning one hand to my neck, coaxing my head to one side, exposing my neck to him. He dropped lazy kisses along my jawline and down to the hollow of my collarbone.

Just like that, my brain was absolute mush. I couldn’t think of anything besides trying to think of believable excuses to tell my boss. Car on fire. No. Kitchen wouldn’t start? No. Food poisoning on the interstate? No.

His voice broke my nonsensical train of thought. “You’ve gotta get dressed before I do actually make you late,” he murmured against my throat. His actions didn’t match his words, which told me he really didn’t want me to leave.

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t mind being late” I whispered.

He took a step back and plucked a dress from the bunch hanging and handed it to me.

“Wear this.”

I took it from him and gave him a dejected pout as he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead before retreating, leaving me to get dressed despite the unresolved fire in my belly.

I got dressed and put on a pair of heels to match the dress he’d picked and did a quick once over in the mirror before heading towards the front door.

The sound of my heels on the hardwood alerted Spencer to my presence, who turned from his position at the counter to present a travel mug with coffee and my packed lunch bag in each hand, ready for me to grab and go.

God, I love this man. I like to think he didn’t mind doing little things like this- mindless things that didn’t require him to be on 100% all the time the way he was at work.

He opened his arms to let me walk into him. I wrapped my arms around his torso and craned my neck up to give him a quick kiss.

“You look pretty,” he said against my lips, “I did good.”

“Mhm, thank you baby,” I said, taking my things from his hands. “You did do good.”

We exchanged “I love you”s as I made my way towards the door, Spencer following a half step behind to open it for me.

“Maybe you can help me take it off later,” I suggested casually, crossing over the threshold.

I turned back to see him leaning against the doorframe, one arm supporting his weight while the other rested on the door handle. He gave a small laugh and shook his head. “Hurry home to me, love.”

“Always.”

***

Stay tuned for Part 2: 6 PM coming soon! And by soon I mean like, tomorrow!

6 PM is posted! This is not a drill!

——

Let’s chat!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #Spencer Reid fan fic #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x fem! reader #Spencer Reid fluff #Spencer Reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fiction #my writing

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mdawritings · 3 years

Text

Wanna Be Yours: Ch. 11

I.XI

Masterlist

Warnings: Mention of nausea and vomiting, very minor physical violence

Song(s): "Haunted" and "Dear John" by Taylor Swift.

It's late afternoon when you finally manage to haul yourself out of bed. Your head feels like it will explode and you rush to the bathroom, already feeling nauseous. You push the toilet seat lid up and gather your hair in one hand before completely emptying your stomach into the toilet. You haven't eaten anything in hours so you heave and gag painfully for a little before sitting back on the cold, tiled floor.

You stay there for a bit, attempting to recall everything that happened last night. You remember the multitude of shots, you remember the heartbreak of your best friend's absence, you remember Hotch picking you up. Hotch.

You stand up from the floor, looking around the empty bedroom for any sign of him. He was up out of bed pretty early. His clothes from last night are neatly folded at the edge of the bed. You reach for a pair of sweatpants from his floor, pulling them on, tying the string tightly to keep them from falling down.

Your birthday dress is draped over the edge of the chair in the corner. You walk over and pick it up, taking a smell of the fabric and you smell the clean scent of laundry detergent. He washed your dress for you. Your lips turn up in a small grin, picturing Hotch with his sleeves rolled up doing laundry for you. The pounding headache from your hangover is slowly fading at the prospect of finally getting the quality birthday time you want with Hotch.

You look to the side table, seeing a small glass of water, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a small note. You take the pills and down some of the water before reaching for the small folded-up note. You unwrap it to see that familiar handwriting never fails to make you happy, thinking about the man that the handwriting belongs to.

Einstein,

Had to run to the office to get work done. Not sure when I'll be done. Drink some water and get something to eat.

-A.H.

Your heart sinks at the thought of missing out on precious time with him but shove the note into your pocket anyway. You walk down to his kitchen, making yourself a large cup of coffee, pouring another glass of water, and attempt to find something to eat.

You expect that Hotch will be home soon, but even after you've cooked yourself some breakfast, finished eating, and cleaned up all the dishes, he still shows no sign of showing up anytime soon.

So you sit and wait for him. You settle into his couch with a book hoping to pass the time. The sun starts to set and still, no sign of him. You reach into your pocket for your phone, looking for any sign of a message from him, any notification that would tell you why he has been gone all day.

You end up waiting for him for so long that you even consider calling Katie to come to pick you up and take you home. If he didn't want you there why would he bring you back to his apartment last night? He could've just helped Katie take you home to your place, but he didn't. He brought you here. So where the fuck is he?

He doesn't owe you anything, you know that. You know there's no formal agreement between the two of you. However, you'd be lying if you claim it doesn't at least sting a little bit that he won't take advantage of free time to spend with you.

You rack your brain for anything you might've said last night to upset him. You remember crying about Charlie. Could that be it? He knows Charlie is your best friend, you hope he would at least be understanding of that. You close the book in your hands, barely paying attention to it at this point. I can't choose between falling for you and keeping my friendships.

You told him you're falling for him. It's the truth. Every waking moment is consumed by him. Every moment just feels so real. You feel everything with him. Life just feels worth living around him. Being with him makes you feel alive.

You hear the door unlock and open. Your head shoots up and you see Hotch by the door slowly kicking off his shoes and putting away his jacket and keys. When he finally looks at you, you know that something is wrong. His face looks worn and tired. His eyes are a little bloodshot. He sighs, a long dramatic sigh, "You're still here." He doesn't necessarily say it as a question, just a statement of fact.

You're confused. He didn't ask you to leave. His note was very vague, "I didn't know you would be back so late. Your note made it seem like I should stick around."

He nods and walks past you without even really acknowledging your presence, "You feeling better?" He reaches for the mail on the coffee table, sorting through it, giving you no focus.

"Hungover, but overall okay," You untuck your feet from under you, ready to stand up, hoping to garner at least a smidge of attention from him.

"Good. I have a lot of grading to get done," He gives you a quick once over before disappearing into his office.

You're frozen in place. Is he really mad at you for getting too drunk last night? You force yourself to your feet and follow him into his office.

"I'm sorry about last night," You mutter softly, standing in the doorway of Hotch's home office, seeing him hunched over at his desk.

He looks over at you but doesn't hold your gaze for long before turning back to his work, "You shouldn't have drunk so much."

You chuckle softly, "It was my 21st, doesn't everyone get a little bit too drunk on their 21st birthday?"

"It was irresponsible." His replies are short and blunt. You're taken aback by his icy demeanor. Just yesterday you were completely encapsulated by happy bliss, now he's giving you the cold shoulder.

"If you didn't want to take care of me all night you should've just helped Katie take me back to my own apartment," You stand your ground now. Just because he seems to be having a bad day doesn't mean he gets to take it out on you.

"That's not the point, Y/N," He rolls his eyes, standing up, pushing his chair in, "The point is, I can't believe you would act so immaturely and irresponsibly. You acted like a child." He brushes past you through the doorway, attempting to end the conversation with him getting the last word.

You follow him to the kitchen, "I am not a child." You argue.

"Well, you sure acted like one last night," He shakes his head. The tone of voice he takes with you is a familiar one, one he's taken time and time again with you. It's the tone he takes in class when he's trying to embarrass you. When he's acting like he hates you, but right now, it doesn't feel very much like acting.

"I acted like any other 21 year old would." You scoff gripping at your coffee mug tightly. Hotch walks to lean against the countertop, that angry yet smug look burned into his features.

He shakes his head as he speaks and rolls up his sleeves frustratedly, "Maybe I just thought you were different from every other 21 year old."

"Look, Aaron, I'm sorry that you were upset by my actions last night. I'm extremely grateful to you for taking care of me and making sure I was okay and safe. Let's just not fight, okay?" You're not sure what you're apologizing for since you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't call him and ask him to come to pick you up. Katie didn't tell him to take you back to his apartment, she just called for help. He didn't have to take care of you. That was his decision.

"Don't you have an exam to get home to study for?" He reaches up into his cabinet for a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He pops the cork and pours himself a glass. "The term ends Monday. Aren't you worried about finishing with good grades?"

You furrow your brows. You're not even sure you recognize the man in front of you. Never, ever, has he been so short and harsh with you. He's only harsh with you in class but he's never been mean and right now he's being pretty damn mean and unfair to you.

"Speaking of, what happens after the term ends?" You trace your finger around the rim of your coffee mug, keeping your eyes trained on the contents of the mug, not wanting to look up at Hotch.

"What do you mean?" Hotch takes a long sip from his glass.

"Well after the exam Monday," You clarify, taking a few steps towards him, "I'm technically not your student anymore."

"Correct. And?" He gives you a bored look.

"And... I'm just wondering how often I'll see you after that. What happens to us?" You shrug.

"What do you mean what will happen to us? Isn't it obvious?" He crosses his arms and straightens up, so that he stares down at you, a judgemental glimmer in his eyes, "There is no us."

"What?" Your voice wavers. Your heart sinks into your stomach. You knew this moment was coming. Deep down, you knew that this couldn't last forever, this perfect happy state of contentment the two of you seemed to exist in for the past two weeks. Yet another part of you thought you would be enough for him. It all felt so real, how could it not have been real?

"I thought... I know neither of us intended for this to be anything real but—" You pause, struggling to form a coherent thought, "I know you feel something too. This isn't just casual sex anymore." You look up at him, but his face hasn't changed from the angry, dismissive look he has plastered on his features. You spend a minute just staring back at each other. Does he really not feel it too? Was it all in your head? You can't hold his gaze any longer, you have to look away, "I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"Thought, what?" He pauses to laugh. His laugh is bitter as he rolls his eyes, "You didn't really think I could love you." The way his tone is dripping with disgust at the mere mention of the word. "You're nothing more than a good distraction. Something to entertain me."

Your eyes prick with angry tears. You bite them away. He clearly sees you as an immature child, you can't let him continue to think that by crying. "If that's all I am, how do you explain the birthday gift? How do you explain last night? Why would you do all that for me?"

Hotch lets out a haughty scoff and shakes his head, "I like taking care of what belongs to me."

You know Hotch is pushing you away. He would never have said these things to you before. That doesn't change the way that you feel sick to your stomach at his words. That doesn't change the way that your hands tremble slightly. You know you're young, you haven't experienced much life yet but could you have been so naive? He treated you so well, so different from a fling. He remembered your favorite novel. He walked you home. He took care of you. You don't do that for someone that you don't truly care about. Hotch has never treated you so rudely, but that was before you revealed your feelings. That was before last night.

"Our meeting is canceled this week. There's no use for it as the final exam is tomorrow." He waves his hand dismissively, snatching the mug from your hands, dumping it in the kitchen sink.

"I'm not delusional, Hotch," You're startled by the way he grabs the mug from you. "I know you care about me. This wasn't all in my head. I know that."

"What do you know about anything?" He narrows his eyes, that sinister look in his eyes making you feel exposed and vulnerable. "Kid genius seems to have gotten herself too wrapped up in some childish fantasy of romance. Sometimes sex is just sex, Y/N."

"You know what?" You point an accusatory finger at him, moving closer, "I feel sorry for you. I do. It's truly pathetic the way you refuse to let yourself feel anything real. What happened that made you so bitter and unloveable?"

Hotch rolls his eyes and turns away from you to lean against the kitchen counter, both hands far apart, spread wide on the counter.

"You are truly the most wicked, disgusting man I have ever met," You spit at him and within seconds he's whirled around to you, and gripped the front of your shirt in his fist. It's not the first time he's grabbed you like this, but it's the first time you're scared of him. Your heart is pounding wildly like it's going to burst out of your chest and your attempts to fight away tears are failing. Despite the tears that roll down your cheeks, your face is hot with anger.

"I have given you everything you could possibly want," He growls out, his grip on your shirt tightening as he pulls you closer to him. "I have made you what you are. So in 10 years from now, when you're at the top of your career, know that it's all because of me." His words sting harder than ever before and as his eyes search yours. It's one thing to make you feel naive and misguided in your judgment of the caliber of your relationship, but to insinuate that this was all for you to get ahead in life is insulting to your character. You never needed his help to succeed. You never pursued him for the grade boost or the extra studying. You wanted to see him because you wanted him. Your bottom lip trembles. So much for staying strong and standing your ground.

Your eyes shoot down to his hand on your shirt. You've never been scared of him. You've seen how cruel he can be, but never have you felt that he would hurt you. Until now. Until you see the anger flash in his eyes and the grip on your shirt tightens. Your skin stings from where he scratched your chest when grabbing the fabric. Your heart races harder.

"Let me go." Your voice is soft and small in comparison to his. There's a moment of hesitation. He glances down at the way he's holding on to you. As if he realizes how much he's scared you. He lets you go much gentler than the way he grabbed you. He turns away from you again, leaning against his counter. You stand there, your body shivering as you feel sick to your stomach staring at the man in front of you. You really thought you cared for him. You really thought he cared for you.

"Just get out." Hotch pants slightly and you watch the muscles in his back strain against his white button-down with every breath. Something is stopping you from moving from your spot. Maybe it's the shock of it all.

"Jesus fuck. Get out, Y/N!" He yells at you, slamming his fist down on the counter. You jump out of your daze and shake your head, turning to leave his apartment. You dig into your pocket for your phone as the tears stream wildly down your face at this point.

"Hey. How are you feeling? Are you-" Katie's chipper voice comes through the receiver but you don't give her a moment to speak.

"Come pick me up. Please," Your voice is trembling and you have your arms wrapped tightly around your body.

"I'm on my way now."

You hang up the phone, walking down the street hoping to get away from his house. Hoping to stop the way that your body shakes and shudders with each tear that rolls down your cheeks. You don't understand what went wrong. What made him switch from someone who makes you feel so alive to someone who terrifies you? Is he that closed off to feeling anything real? Is he that emotionally damaged? Just a few hours ago, you believed that being with him made you feel alive, but maybe this entire time it was the opposite.

Maybe the line between living and dying is slim. If loving is living, then your relationship with Aaron Hotchner is like dying.

—————

"Y/N," Katie opens the door to your bedroom, letting the light from the apartment flow into the room. "Come on, you're going to be late for the final."

You pull the sheets up to your neck, never having gotten any good sleep last night. Everything in your body hurts. Your head is pounding, you feel sick to your stomach, but overall, you feel numb.

"Einstein—" She starts but you sit up in bed.

"Don't call me that." You say softly and pull the sheets aside, placing your feet on the ground, your legs shaking as you do. "I'm up."

You push past Katie to get to your bathroom. You grant yourself the first glance in the mirror since you left Hotch's and the past 36 hours of pain have clearly left their mark. The bags under your eyes are dark and purple. Your hair is a matted mess on your head. Traces of the makeup from nearly 3 days ago still exist on your face. You look over your clothes, still wearing Hotch's t-shirt and sweatpants. You grip the edge of the fabric and lift it to your face, taking a small sniff. Hotch's cologne is fading from the fabric quickly but you can still slightly sense it. Your first instinct is to smile at the scent, warm and musky, yet slightly sweet.

You lift the shirt over your head, staring back at yourself in the mirror. You can see a few faint scratches on your chest from where Hotch's fingernails dug through the shirt. From when he grabbed you so tight you lost your breath. When he pulled you so close with so much anger that you were terrified of him. You run your fingertips over the fading red marks.

You can't bring yourself to cry anymore. You have no tears left to cry over him. After today, four scratch marks along your chest, a pair of joggers, and a tattered t-shirt will be all you have left of Aaron Hotchner. Even then, the scratches will soon fade. The clothes will lose all traces of his cologne. Then you'll be left with that book. That damned book.

You go back to your room, leaving Hotch's shirt tossed aside on the bathroom floor. You reach for a clean t-shirt and your eyes look over to your bed. There, tangled up in the sheets, lies that leather-bound book. You sit on the edge of the mattress and reach for it again.

Y/N,

The beauty of life is in the grays. Thanks for being the gray in mine.

—A.H.

You run your fingers over his initials again. You've read through the whole book a million times in the past 36 hours. Every time you felt like crying or screaming or you couldn't sleep you opened that cover, read that note, and that all too familiar first line... "In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I've been turning over in my mind ever since. Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had."

You close the book, knowing continuing to stare at the green ink that coats the margins of every page will do you no good.

One more final. One exam. Three hours. That's all the time you have left with him.

Staying awake for the past day and a half has allowed you to run over every interaction with him in your head. Every word, every glance, every touch. A day and a half ago you would've run to him, begged him to stay, begged him to hold onto you. But now, you just feel stupid. You feel foolish. You should've known.

You wonder whether you'll just become another name on a list. A list of girls that Professor Hotchner has used and manipulated before tossing aside. If there's one thing Aaron Hotchner is good at, it's keeping the lines and boundaries blurry. You think back to the moments you were most fed up with him.

That night outside your apartment. He seemed to know just how to keep you infatuated with him. He didn't let the flame die. He kept the spark inside you going. Just with that one apology. How did he manage to make it all seem so real? How did he manage to trick you into feeling loved? Into feeling cared for?

Overall, Hotch loved to play hot and cold with you. When it was hot, it was really hot. The passion and lust burned you. Every touch was like fire on your skin, and it all was so irresistible. The stolen glances and the secret kisses behind closed doors were so exhilarating. But when he was cold, like he was on Saturday, it stung. You wonder how he became so good at compartmentalization.

More than anything, the past day and a half have made you wonder what happened that made him feel so worthless and undeserving of love? Some part of you is even more hurt by that thought. It's selfish, but you wonder why you weren't enough for him. How come your company, your care for him, your feelings for him, weren't enough to make him want to change?

"Y/N," Katie knocks on the doorframe, standing in the way, blocking the light from the hallway, "You ready?"

"No," You sigh softly and put the book back on your bed, "But I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

Katie gives you a look of pity, that makes you want to crawl under the sheets and never face anyone ever again. You don't want the pity looks or the whispers, or the walking on eggshells around you. You want to get rid of this feeling. You want to go back to the start of the semester. More than anything, you want to forget what it felt like to love Aaron Hotchner.

You and Katie walk in silence across the campus. Usually, on your morning walk to class, the two of you are laughing and joyful, discussing anything and everything, but class today holds too much meaning for you to muster up the energy to talk with her.

Katie wraps an arm around your shoulder, helping to walk you into the lecture hall, "I've got you. You're going to do great. You know this shit like the back of your hand," She mutters some words of encouragement and you know you should fight the urge to look up to see Hotch but you can't help yourself.

As soon as you look up at him, he's looking directly back at you. Your red, swollen eyes must be a dead giveaway, because you swear, almost for a second he looks as if he's going to call out to you. He opens his mouth but the words he speaks are not what you want to hear from him, "Everyone hurry to take your seats. The exam will start in exactly two minutes."

You look around the lecture hall and, of course, the only seat open for you is your normal seat at the front. The thick exam booklet is placed down in front of you, but you don't look up at the man who put it down. You don't need to. You know the way he's looking at you. There'll be something about his eyes that tells you he cares, the soft glimmer you've seen a million times before. But the rest of his face will be stone cold. Stern. Emotionless. You wonder how a person's eyes could say so much while their actions and body language tell a totally different story.

The exam begins, but you just sit there for a while. You never open the booklet. You think about him. You think about the first time you ever kissed him. The way his stubble tickled your cheeks. You think about the way he called your nickname that night. Hey Einstein... Blue... My favorite color. It's blue. You think about how jealous he was when he heard about Charlie, and how attractive you thought that was. You think about the way he showed up at your apartment, no warning. At first, you thought it was creepy, but you grew to appreciate the gesture, seeing as he didn't seem to care who saw him there. He just wanted to see you. You think about the other day in his office when you were able to just exist with one another. You watched him grade, his hand on your thigh. The way he gave you full access to his book collection. You think about your birthday, the way he studied every detail of your face before kissing you.

Did he know then? Did he know he was going to break your heart? Was that his version of goodbye? You think about the small blush that spread over his cheeks when he gave you your birthday gift. The way he kissed you and told you to stay safe. You think about how gentle he was with you while cleaning you up and changing you while you were drunk. You think about how tight he held you while you fell asleep, shushing you softly and rubbing your arm gently.

You think about the way you feel with him.

Being with him is comfortable. He reminds you of a rainy day when all you want to do is curl up in the sheets or sit by the window, watching the rain race down the glass. He's like reading a book late at night when it's storming outside but it's completely peaceful inside. The storm might be banging against every wall of the house, but you feel safe and secure at home, sipping coffee and losing yourself in the words on a page.

That was before. Now every time you look at him you feel this growing sense of dread in your stomach. The scratches on your chest sting.

You sit like that for a while. Just thinking. Your lack of work doesn't go unnoticed by Hotch. He glances over at you every few minutes, hoping that you'll pick up your pen and start the exam soon. But you take your time.

You're delaying the inevitable. Once you finish the exam, once you hand it in, this whole thing is truly over. If there's one thing you've learned, however, is that it's pointless to fight against inevitables. Some things are just born to die. You need to accept that. So you pick up your pen and start writing.

You watch as each student rushes to the front of the room to hand in their exams. A small swarm forms around Professor Hotchner as they begin to heckle him about recommendation letters, internship opportunities, and possible grade changes.

You're slow to stand, holding the thick exam booklet daintily at its corner. The weight of the exam does not come from the nearly 20 pages bound together, but from its implications. You know that as soon as you hand in the exam, you and Hotch are through. He made that abundantly clear the other night. This whirlwind of a semester, the sneaking around, the wild sex, the companionship... it all will come to an end.

And what happens after all this? Are you just supposed to nod at him in the halls? Pretend that he didn't toss you out like trash just when you were starting to feel something real for him?

You feel like you're moving in slow motion as you push past the swarms of students. You push to the front holding your exam out for Hotch to take from you, "Done, Miss Y/L/N?"

"Yeah. I'm done," You attempt to maintain the icy demeanor but you know your swollen red eyes give you away. You want him to think his words didn't affect you. But you swiftly turn on your heel and leave his classroom. You're practically speeding to get out of the stuffy old building and out into the fresh air. When you do, the cool winter chill hits your face, pulling you out of the enchantment that Hotch's presence seems to suck you into.

You're just grateful you never have to take another fucking step into his class ever again.

—————

What you wanted more than anything was a winter break full of meaningless sex, something to take your mind off your brute of a law professor, but as much as you wished, you found yourself unable to follow through. There wasn't a single moment in the day that the memories stayed away.

Beyond the memories, it was impossible to exist at school without feeling his presence. It wasn't that you saw him constantly, you avoided him like the plague. You weren't even ashamed to stop and turn in the opposite direction when you saw him coming.

But besides that, there was always this lurking feeling that he was just a few feet away from you. The idea that he's just a classroom over or just a flight of stairs away or he could be just around the corner of every hallway haunts your every moment on campus. Even now, as you attempt to simply hand in a paper to your professor, your mind wanders to last semester.

You walk down the all-too-familiar halls, looking for office #336. You know exactly where it is. Directly across the hall from Hotch's. You come to find your legal methods professor's office door shut and hear him chatting away with another student. As a result, you're forced to wait outside, your focus unwavering from Hotch's closed door.

You can just picture him: sleeves rolled up, tie askew, hunched over a student's paper, grading furiously. You feel a smile prick at the corner of your lips, thinking of taunting him about his furrowed brow and harshly bitten lip.

A small timid voice strikes you from your thoughts. "Excuse me? Is this Professor Hotchner's office?"

You resist the urge to laugh at the girl. She practically shrinks away under your gaze and you see fear dance around in her shimmering eyes. You want to laugh, seeing as she's probably older than you, but you can tell she's new from the shy way she looks at you. You simply raise a finger, pointing at the nameplate besides the door that reads:

#335

Aaron Hotchner, J.D.

Criminal Law

She nods and looks down at the paper she's clutching against her chest. Your eyes wander and you see a large red C that is circled and Hotch's unmistakeable chicken scratch handwriting scrawled just below the grade that reads: 'Come see me. Immediately'

That's when it really sinks in. Hotch was right. You weren't anything special. You were just a momentary obsession. You were convenient. It was easy. You fulfilled his needs just for him to toss you away once it became too complex. Too inconvenient.

Your heart is racing, anticipating Hotch opening his door first. You let out a small sigh of relief when you hear the office door of your professor open, but at the exact same time, the door opens across the hall. The young girl immediately explodes with nerves, "Professor Hotchner, sir. We need to discuss my grade, I really put a lot of work into it."

You know you shouldn't look, but you do. You glance over at his office door, your eyes locking with his immediately. At least this time, it's not completely obvious how much he's hurt you. The last time you saw him, your eyes were bright red and irritated from lack of sleep and tears that were wasted on him.

Your presence doesn't faze him. That unmistakable voice like velvet and the words he says to her are not ones that are unfamiliar to you.

"Call me Hotch," His smooth voice is unwavering, "Come on inside, we have a lot to talk about." His eyes never leave yours until he places a hand on the small of her back and leads her into his office, the door slamming shut behind them.

And you're grateful that's the last time you ever see Aaron Hotchner again. At least, that's what you thought.

"It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment" — F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby

A/N: And that's the end of part 1! Part 2 is going to be so much fun...

Part 2: Chapter 12: II.I →

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #wanna be yours fanfic #hotch #hotchner #hotch x reader

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Descent Pt. 4

Hello again! Did ya miss me? (of course you didn’t. I haven’t gone anywhere) Please enjoy the next installment of a Simeon Sin Fest that shouldn’t be allowed. As usual, lemme know what you think!

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Part [1] Part [2] Part [3] Part 4: [4] Part [5] Part [6] Part [7] Part [8] Part [9] Part [10] Pairing: Simeon x Reader Genre: Smut Wordcount: 5,300 ish Tags: Sex toys, smut, femdom, anal toys, cock rings, oral, face sitting, body worship Summary: After a long night of being played with, it's only fair that you got to do the same to Simeon.

Skid

To say you had a wild night would have been an understatement. Simeon was relentless in his experiments and you were subjected to a full array of toys and techniques that you never imagined to go through. You couldn’t help but enjoy ever second of it. Even if he said it was for his book, even if it was all pretend, he lavished you with attention and you drank up every drop of it. All you asked for was a little affection and he was more than happy to give that for you in exchange for watching you cum time and time again. You had lost count of how many times you had climaxed under his watch, eventually passing out from exhaustion and begging for a break.

When you awoke, you were still on the floor but a large, soft comforter had been wrapped around you, tucking you in neatly into a bundle on the ground. The sun streaming past the curtains gave you a vague idea of just how late you had slept in. Rubbing your eyes and looking around, you found Simeon sleeping soundly on the couch nearby. He had put his sweater back on and a small throw was carelessly draped across his abdomen. He must have been in the middle of doing something when he finally fell asleep considering how he still had his glasses on.

Your whole body hurt both from sleeping on the hard ground and also from all the activities of the night before. Stretching a bit, you worked the soreness out of your body bit by bit as you went through the motions of waking up. You tried to keep the noises to a minimum considering Simeon was right there, but it was difficult to hide a groan of pain or two from escaping when it came to stretching your back and arms.

Surprisingly enough, he stayed asleep through everything and you carefully waddled over to him with the comforter wadded up in your arms, fully intent on covering him properly to prevent him from catching a cold. Just as you were about to spread the comforter over him, your caught a glimpse of the notebook in his hand. Curiosity got the better of you and you were immediately distracted by what he had scribbled in that little book. Carefully putting the blanket down, you peeled the book from his grasp. He mumbled slightly in his sleep, stirring a bit, but didn’t wake. You breathed a sigh of relief and went right into flipping through the pages.

You thought he had gone through all the ideas in his head; however, the chapter outlines in his notebook told you a completely different story. Just glancing at the few words he had scribbled down for each scene had your cheeks and ears flushing hot with embarrassment and a fair amount of desire. You didn’t think he was capable of such scenarios, yet the proof was staring right at you. You blinked, noticing the next thing he had underlined and smiled to yourself. The premise would be perfect payback for everything he had put you though.

Putting your little scheme into motion, you tucked him in properly, took his glasses off his face and let him rest for as long as he needed to. If he could spend a whole night tormenting you to climax over and over again; you had found the perfect opportunity to do the same to him. You needed him to be well rested and ready for that. Anyway, he looked too angelic while sleeping for you to wake him up without warning.

Simeon eventually came to about an hour later. He groaned, looking around and noticing not only the comforter around him, but his glasses and notebook tucked neatly to the side. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him when he saw the empty spot on the floor. He swallowed, wondering if you had enough of him and left. He carefully got up, checking his surroundings and heaved a sigh of relief when he noticed your overnight bag was still where he had left it.

He was drawn to sounds in the kitchen and when he approached he was greeted with the most domestic scene that warmed his heart.

You had found one of his over-sized sweaters to wear. It almost came down to your knees and because of its size, you thought it would be perfect to just not wear pants. He watched you as you padded around the kitchen making breakfast out of leftovers. You hummed softly to yourself, completely unaware of him watching you until you turned and saw him at the doorway. Startled, you nearly dropped the bowl of fried rice you just finished making. “Oh, I didn’t notice you had woken up. I hope you don’t mind that I borrowed a few things.” You smiled sheepishly at your attire.

“Oh no, it suits you.” He said softly, coming over and taking the bowl from your hands. His fingers brushed against yours momentarily and you felt your heart flutter. There was so much kindness in his eyes and a gentleness to all his motions, you wondered if the manic, sex driven god you saw last night was a dream. The ache between your legs told you it had definitely been your reality.

He went about as if nothing happened, helping you out with breakfast and brewing some tea to go with the meal. He had to be careful, he already had a sampling of going right to the edge with you and it was so addicting, his whole body was itching to do it again. Seeing you wearing his clothes also did something to him he didn’t expect. There was a surge of pride, and arousal, that came about when he saw how well you wore his sweater. When he stood close to you, pressed against you to get some dishes, he could smell the cloying scent of his laundry detergent mixed with your unique scent. It was a heady mixture that shot hormones straight to his groin and he had to steel himself from lewd thoughts to keep himself decent. It was much too early in the morning to deal with this.

All he wanted was a peaceful meal with you; but it seemed his mind had other plans. He kept replaying every moment you came undone and screamed his name. The way you moaned for him was so alluring and he nearly lost himself more than once. For as ancient as he was, Simeon thought he had perfect control over his emotions and his desires; but you were showing him that wasn’t the case at all. Every little thing you did seemed to give him more ideas and more ways to ravish you without experiencing a fall. The fire he played with was hot, but the reward was worth it in the end.

He struggled through eating breakfast and you could tell his mind was in the gutter. It was so adorable how hard he tried to hide it from you. He wasn’t being subtle at all, fidgeting and half paying attention to the conversation at hand. It only made you want to pounce on him even more, but you had to be patient. There was a time and place for everything and breakfast was the most important meal of the day.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower while you were sleeping.” You nonchalantly said while cleaning up the last of the rice.

“Oh… Oh not at all,” he stuttered, feeling the tips of his ears burning when the image of your wet body in his shower flashed across his mind’s eye. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. “So, is there anything that you’d like to do today? I feel like after uhm… what happened last night, I should let you choose how you would like to spend the rest of your time here.”

You couldn’t get enough of how he switched between adorably innocent and intensely sexy. If only you could figure out what made him tick, it would be a gold mine. You wanted to press all his buttons at once to see him come apart at the seams. He had broken you down to your base needs so easily, it only seemed fair that you did the same to him. As if the gods of fortune were smiling down upon you, he even offered to do whatever it was you wanted. You show just how excited you were when he put such a lovely gift in your lap. “I have a few ideas…” you replied, leaving a fair bit of vagueness in your answer. “But let’s get dishes done before we get too busy.”

The innuendos in your words had him thinking of scenario after scenario all which involved you being in a compromising position. He wanted to act upon those base instincts of his to simply take what he wanted; but he had already resigned control of the day to you and he would be good about it. He was an angel after all, doing the bare minimum and showing some control over his desires was the least he could do to slow his inevitable descent into the dark world of carnal pleasures. “Let me take care of that, you did the cooking. I asked you over to relax and celebrate your time with me, not cook and work.”

Perfect. You almost felt bad for taking advantage of his innately kind disposition.

“Oh, I don’t mind. I had so much fun, it didn’t even feel like work,” you chirped but didn’t stop him from going to the sink and doing the dishes as he said he would. “Well, I’ll come up with something to do while you’re doing chores then,” you were nearly singing in excitement and it took every bit of self control you had to not skip out of the kitchen and put your devious plan in full swing.

By the time Simeon was done, the house was eerily quiet. He hadn’t heard you rustling about at all while he was cleaning. He had expected you to choose a movie to watch or maybe even suggest a stroll through his gardens. But, you were no where to be found which was concerning. Honestly, he was a little anxious to find out what you had planned for him. Stepping back out into the living room, he looked around and didn’t see you there at all. An irrational wave of panic set in and he wondered if you had somehow packed up and left him.

Using his confusion to your advantage, you sneaked up behind him from your hiding spot and grabbed his arms, quickly pulling them behind him and securing them with a pair of thick leather cuffs you had found in his giant trunk of sex paraphernalia. The bewildered look he gave you as the cuffs clicked into place was so cute and you almost felt sorry for springing the surprise on him. “What.. what are you doing?” He asked, pulling against the bindings. You had purposefully kept them loose. If he wanted to leave, he was free to do so at any time. They weren’t there to keep him restrained, they were there to remind him you were in control.

You stalked around him, and he was drawn to the sound of heels clicking against the floor. Looking down, he noticed the tall platforms you had put on while he wasn’t looking. You were still wearing nothing else except for his sweater and he couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder of lust that ran down his spine to rest at his crotch. He hoped you didn’t notice; but with the way you were watching his every reaction, he knew you had seen it.

The smile on your face was full of mischief and a bit feral. Something about losing all control of the situation had Simeon’s mind blanking out and he was equal parts terrified of what you were capable of as well as quickly becoming aroused in anticipation of what you had planned. You lead him to the couch and made him sit on the edge of the cushion, all the while exuding every bit of confidence you could get out of being in control for the day. “So, I went through some of your notes...”

He audibly swallowed, breaking out in a cold sweat when he realized you had found the darkest depths of his desires. The chill that washed over him was replaced with shame as he tried to explain himself. As soon as he opened his mouth, you put a finger on his lips to hush him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses,” you drawled. You paced back and forth slowly, the clack of your heels against the floor echoing in the room “What I want to know, is how you expect this interrogation scene to work with me.”

You picked up the notebook and flipped through the pages, ignoring most of what he had already written until you landed on the page you were referring to. “You see, it clearly states that the main character’s partner gets caught and then interrogated… Last time I checked, I’m your stand in for the main character. Which means...” You smirked, dragging a finger down his cheek. “You get all the fun of all the scenes involving the partner, the husband… and maybe even the boss, right?”

Simeon nodded dumbly at your analysis; unable to argue with you. He had considered using you as a stand-in for those scenes as well, but he had no idea how to approach you about it. The solution you came up with was both brilliant and dangerous. Without being in control, who knew just how much further he would slip into the darkness to just be with you. It was a risk he was willing to take though. The cuffs that kept his arms bound behind him kept him firmly in place despite being loose. In the short time he had known human pleasure, he had already put his full trust in you.

“Okay… well, we’ve got the whole handcuffed part down. Next… we get a little spicy.” To see Simeon so docile and willing to participate in your little play made it all the more exciting to you. You made a show of rifling through his trunk of toys, bending over so he could get a good look at the lacy underthings you put on under his sweater. You mumbled to yourself as you went through all the options you had in front of you. Your fingers brushed across a few lengths of ropes, considering them for a moment before you left them be for the time being. Today would be a test of how far he would let you go, ropes could always wait until later.

For now, you had much more important matters to attend to. The most pressing matter being the fact that Simeon had too many clothes on. Setting aside the toys you had chosen, you stalked back over to him, making sure to keep your selection out of his direct line of sight. “First thing’s first, let’s see what I get to work with, shall we?” You asked, pressing a knee between his thighs to spread his legs apart. Leaning in, you kissed him deeply, breathed in his scent and started the scene you had schemed about since the morning into action.

You couldn’t get enough of how soft his lips were, or how wonderful he sounded whenever he let out a soft, breathy moan. Pulling away after a heated make out session, you were rather happy to see the slightest tinge of read on his cheeks and a glassy haze over his eyes. “Adorable.” You purred leaning in again to pepper his skin with more kisses along his jaw and his neck. You could feel his body tense as you explored it, but he didn’t deny you or stop you with his safe word. You figured he could take notes on how to write a sexy interrogation scene without actually being interrogated. You really weren’t in the right mindset to come up with some cheesy dialog which could throw the mood off.

Since you were going to focus on the experience, it meant that you were free to lavish his skin with kisses and light love bites until he was a shivering mess. You knew no matter how much affection you gave him, nothing would come from it. It was the nature of your relationship with him. But, you hoped you could at least convey your feelings for him while you had him at your mercy. So you poured every bit of your adoration you had for him into every kiss and every caress, hoping he would get the message.

Your fingers played at the hem of his sweater, teasing the skin of his abdomen with feather light touches while you kissed what skin was exposed. When you were sure you had given every inch attention, you peeled the sweater over his head to give you a new expanse of skin to work with. You couldn’t help but grin wickedly, watching him shiver as the sweater was pulled over his head. It dropped down his arms, stopping right at the cuffs, framing his body. If you squinted in the early daylight, it almost looked like a pair of fluffy white wings coming from him.

“My precious angel...” You murmured softly, looking at him fondly. “You’re so cute.”

You shifted so that you straddled him properly and pushed him back to rest against the cushions of the couch. In his new half-laying position, you had much more access to the skin you just revealed and you were more than happy to shower him with more kisses; worshiping his body and everything he was willing to give you.

It was so beautiful to hear him moan and shudder under you. His lithe body tensed and relaxed in time with what you did to him. You quickly learned what drew out the best sounds from him and made sure to revisit the spots that brought out the most delicious moans. His nipples were especially sensitive and every touch sent him keening. You could feel his cock twitch under you as you teased his body to the peaks of arousal without giving him what he undoubtedly wanted.

You hummed, grinding yourself against his growing hard on while you continued to give his torso more attention. Curious, you wrapped your lips around a nipple and sucked, licking the tender skin there and the scream that came from him was absolutely heavenly. You quickly became addicted to that sound and redoubled your efforts in eliciting that noise from him. He strained against his bindings but remained careful not to break them. You being on top of him was doing things to his mind he never thought were possible and he was quickly losing himself to all the sensations you were giving him.

“Please…” He begged after you had given his nipple ample attention. “I need something mo-- Ahhh” You ignored his pleas as you simply switched to his neglected nipple. Your lips made sure to give it the same attention as its partner while your fingers traced the waistband of his pants. You would give him more on your own terms, and right now you were very busy getting him to scream your name while you teased him.

He wasn’t sure just how much more teasing he could take from you and futilely rolled his up to you in an attempt to get your attention. Much to your dismay, you only ground down on him harder to keep his hips still. You bit his chest hard, enough to make him gasp and leave little teeth marks on his skin. “You’ll get more once you behave.” you explained simply before going back to caressing and kissing him.

Simeon felt delirious by the time you were finally ready to get off his lap and help him out of his pants. He was very sure they had gotten soiled with how much his cock was leaking with need. As soon as you peeled his pants off of him, he sighed in relief, no longer having anything restricting his aching cock. “Ooh… someone’s so excited.” You drawled, dragging a finger up and down his shaft. He gasped, heaving deep breaths as a new onslaught of sensations washed over him.

You wanted nothing more than to sink your pussy down on his length and feel it stretch you out; but you needed to remain respectful of his wishes. Anyway, you had many more plans for him. You were acting out an ‘interrogation’ scene after all. What was an interrogation without some torture? You smiled softly at him while your finger swirled around the tip of his cock. “Ah… now for the fun part.” you said softly, leaning down and giving his dribbling member a chaste kiss.

You walked over to the coffee table where you had set aside the toys for the session and wrapped your fingers around the cock ring you had chosen. You made sure he was well aware of every one of your actions and forced him to watch as you slipped the ring down his length until it rested right at the juncture between the shaft of his cock and his balls. He let out a soft whimper as he felt the pressure on his cock. His expression was full of pleading when he looked up at you, begging you with his eyes to release him.

“Now now, my precious angel...” You cooed, tilting his head up to keep his eyes on you. “I can’t have you cum until I think you’ve done a good job. You can do a good job, right?”

Simeon looked at you blankly, nodding vigorously to whatever terms you were going to give him. He had been so close to climax as soon as you had taken his pants off of him and now, you had forbidden him from the release he craved. He was willing to do whatever it took to get to that high again.

“Good boy...” You praised before helping him up and repositioning him to bend over the arm of the couch with his legs spread and his ass up in the air for you. The sight of his cock hanging between his legs was so tantalizing, you couldn’t help but give it a few loving strokes which rewarded you with a shaky moan from Simeon.

You smirked, running your hand across the swell of his ass and spent a good few moments caressing his cock and balls, pulling a few more needy moans from him before you moved to the next thing you had in mind. “Let me know if this hurts now...” you said, lubing up your fingers and teasing his ass crack. “I don’t want to break you so early.” You dribbled a liberal amount of lube in between his cheeks to make the next part as smooth as possible.

When you pressed your first finger in him, he let out a strangled gasp, struggling wildly against his restraints and you waited for him to stop you. But he didn’t. Simeon simply looked like he was reeling in the experience and eventually calmed down enough for you to start sliding your finger in and out of him. The surprised gasps soon turned into pleasured moans and you felt confident enough to continue stretching him out more.

The process was gruelingly slow, but it was worth it to see his blissed out face in the end when you managed to fit three fingers in and he was a mewling mess against the couch cushions. “Good boy… Time for you reward.” you purred and reached for the glittering plug you had set aside.

You carefully removed your fingers and he whimpered when he was fully empty. Oh, he’s going to regret sounding like that soon… You thought wickedly as you spread the lube on the plug. Slowly, oh so slowly, you started easing it into him and watched as his expression changed from bliss to shock and then back to pure pleasure. The plug glittered so beautifully in the sun once it was inside of him you couldn’t help but give his ass a satisfied smack, making him jump a little.

“How’s that feel?”

“G-good...” He said breathlessly. He didn’t realize just how tense his body had become during the whole process until the toy was snugly inside of him. Now that the weight of it sat inside and the base stretched him out just so, he was in a world of nothing but pleasure. Your hand idly stroking his aching cock only added to the sensations and he was sure he would faint soon if he wasn’t allowed to cum.

“Good. You did so well, my precious angel…” you cooed. There really wasn’t any better pet name for him, you decided. He was just everything you ever expected out of an angel and it felt right to call him that while he was in your care. “Are you ready for your reward?”

He nodded, barely comprehending your words. You guided him to lounge back on the couch to give his legs a rest. The shift in positioning meant the plug only went deeper into him and pressed against a spot inside that made him see stars as soon as he sat down. You waited patiently for him to ride out the wave of sensations before you finally gave his cock the attention it deserved.

You wrapped your lips around the tip of his dick, giving it a good suck and swirled your tongue around it which caused Simeon’s hips to nearly levitate right off the couch. You firmly pressed him back down, keeping your hands on his thighs to prevent him from squirming too much. His breaths came out in shallow pants as you took his cock into your mouth inch by inch until your teeth caught on the ring at the base. Careful to not hurt him, you slowly pulled the ring off his cock one agonizing inch at a time.

Looking up at him with the toy in your mouth, you were greeted by the most angelic image of an absolutely debauched Simeon. His hair a mess and his eyes glazed over, he almost didn’t seem all present until he heard the toy drop from your mouth and onto the ground. Then, only then did he scream your name as you gave him the blissful release he had craved when your hot mouth was once again over his cock.

You let him squirm and thrust his hips into your mouth, accepting everything he was giving you as best you could. Urging him on by moaning into his dick as you sucked him off, it took almost no time at all for him to cum gratefully down your throat. The load was large enough to leave a bit of if dribbling down the corner of your mouth as you struggled to swallow it all. Pulling off his cock with a lewd pop, you looked over at him and pouted. “Ahh… it looks like someone had fun...” you drawled.

“I… yes...” He breathed, still breathless from finally climaxing. The sun glistened off of his sweaty skin as he took deep breaths to bring himself back to earth.

“So I get my turn now, as fair payment, right?”

“I… What?”

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet.” You let out a soft giggle, getting up from between his legs and moved him so you he was laying down across the cushions of the couch. “I still need release.”

He had no idea what you were about to do until you positioned yourself to straddle his head. He got a clear view of your dripping wet pussy and just the sight alone was mind blowing. “So, why don’t you show me what that pretty tongue of yours can do?” You asked, moving your panties to the side and sinking down onto his face.

He was surrounded by your scent, your heat and the taste of you. Simeon was more than eager to flick his tongue out and trace your soaking slit, savoring the feast you were giving him. He could barely breathe, but that didn’t matter to him. He eagerly tilted his head up to meet you and licked at everything you offered him. His lips eventually found your clit and he latched onto the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The moment you felt his tongue and lips on your clit, you knew it would be the end for you. You had already been holding off your arousal for so long in your quest to conquer him that when you finally got stimulation it was absolutely wonderful. You didn’t hold back your praises as you urged him to keep going. Your moans filled the room alongside the lewd sounds of his licking and lapping at your folds. You could get used to his anti-pussy fucking demands if it meant that his talented tongue could work you to orgasm over and over again instead of a cold toy.

“Oh… Oh fuck, Simeon...” you whined as you crested over the edge and came all over his face. You felt him greedily lap up everything he had access to, sending shivers all over your body until you were a shuddering, overstimulated mess.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him, finally giving him the space to take an unhindered breath. You settled on his chest, watching him gasp for air. The lower half of his face was covered in your slick and it was such an arousing sight, you couldn’t help but lean in and kiss him, tasting the remnants of yourself on his lips as you did so. “You did so well…” you praised once the kiss broke.

You stroked his hair gently and let him come down from whatever highs he was feeling. Taking the cuffs off of him, he examined his wrists for any marks and was rather satisfied to see that there were none. It would have been a shame if his beautiful skin was marred by a toy and not your teeth or nails. In the moments that scene ended, all tension in his body seemed to leave at once and he was a limp noodle in your arms.

You went to go get some water to sip on and helped clean off the worst of the fluids between the two of you. Reaching around him, you started to remove the plug still inside of him and he stopped you. “I… Let me wear it a little longer.”

“Alright.” you conceded and settled yourself next to him, letting him rest his head on your bosom and ride out everything. “You did so well...” you murmured, meditatively stroking his hair. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I’ll make a great chapter out of this.” He reassured, partially dozing off and clinging to your borrowed sweater. “I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“You already do.” You said softly, pulling a nearby throw over and covering him with it. “Rest, you’ve worked hard today, my precious angel.”

He mumbled something unintelligible as a reply before snuggling up closer to you, quickly falling asleep from exhaustion. You let yourself slip into a light sleep as well, knowing your calves would hate you for being in such high heels for so long. It was worth it, though.

What you didn’t know was Simeon was now far from being a precious angel now that he had a taste of sin and temptation.

#Obey me #obey me simeon #Obey me fanfiction #Obey me smut #Simeon x Reader #Obey me AU #My writing #Wow this is so much sin #I almost feel bad #I still hate every word I write right now #but hey it's getting the job done #I am not subtle with the heaven jabs

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oldjane · 3 years

Text

Blame Discord.

(I am not very up to date on A/B/O verse, but have this.)

“Joe, wait a minute!” Nicky calls, but Joe doesn’t stop. “What’s so urgent that we couldn’t even say goodbye to the others, gioia mia?”

Oh, those words.

As much as Joe resented them earlier, since he learned what they mean they send vibrations over his spine, and make his heart leap up in his throat.

Now, when he’s is already half-hard and more than just a bit wet, they just claw at him, make him even more desperate to get his mouth on Nicky’s, spread his legs wide for his mate and beg him to fuck him than he already was after he realized Nicky had never lied to him about his previous experience.

Oh, Joe should have known, obviously. As soon as they bonded the second time – truly bonded – he has sensed nothing but absolute adoration from Nicky. He’s sensed Nicky’s overwhelming relief when he realized he was finally allowed to love Joe with everything in him, and Joe had struggled with grief and guilt for not letting Nicky in sooner, for burying himself in resentment and anger and making his mate suffer. Nicky – kind, soft, gentle Nicky, with a heart too big for this world – had forgiven him within seconds, but Joe still felt bad about it.

And today’s meeting – god. Nicky telling everybody with such earnestness about the research he did. About how he had to search for resources focusing on pleasure for omegas, because it was so rare. How he practised, fisting himself until he knotted, making sure he knew how to control it. How he had bought artificial slick, getting strange comments from the shop owners, in case his omega would want it, and non-perfumed laundry detergent, because some omegas prefer the sheets to be as devoid of smell as possible. How he had learned to cook broths full of vitamins and nutrition and yet bland enough for an omega in heat. How he had watched videos on how to best eat out an omega, how an omega might like to be pleasured while filled up by their alpha’s knot, how to make sure an omega in heat does not hurt themselves by skipping steps.

All the unbonded omega’s present had been taking notes fervently, probably in the hope of sharing this with the alpha they would be assigned to. Some of the alphas had listened a bit sheepishly, coming up to Nicky shyly to ask for more info, their omegas looking at Joe jealously.

And suddenly Joe had seen the light – Nicky had never lied to him about anything, and he had indeed been a virgin when they first mated. But Joe had resented coming so hard, and he’d chosen to accuse Nicky of fucking around before getting his mate assigned to him.

So now he is dragging Nicky by the hand, leaving the meeting abruptly, because he needs to make it up to him. Again.

He needs to get Nicky naked in their bed, and make sure Nicky knows how grateful Joe is. He salivates at the idea of making Nicky come over and over again, deepthroating his big cock before riding it until Nicky sees stars.

As soon as they are inside their flat, though, Nicky grabs Joe’s wrist and touches the mark in his neck with his other hand, softly and gingerly, as if he’s unsure he has permission to do so.

“Joe, are you okay? Did I do anything wrong? I am sorry, gioia mia, just tell me how I can do better next time, please.”

The worry is palpable in his voice and it throbs through the bond.

“No, no,” Joe quickly exclaims, nuzzling Nicky’s neck, where the imprint of Joe’s teeth sits. “No, Nicky, you did everything right. You always have done everything right, and I was too blind to see it.”

He lifts his head to press his mouth on Nicky’s. He might have vaguely intended for this to be a reassuring peck, but he is gushing slick by now, and he just needs Nicky. So it becomes heated and filthy within seconds, and when Joe finally pulls back to draw a shuddering breath, he decides he has waited long enough.

He picks up his mate, walks with his precious cargo to the bedroom and has Nicky naked almost before Nicky realizes what’s going on.

“Joe?”

Nicky sounds dazed, and his smell is full of desire – even more heady than the cloying smell of slick on Joe and the lust between them, is Nicky’s love.

Joe groans.

“I want to give you pleasure, Nicky. As much as you gave me when we first mated.”

“You always do, Joe. It’s always perfect with you. You are so beautiful and –”

“Nicolò… I know better. Just because you came doesn’t mean it was good for you. I treated you like shit. I treated you like a knot without emotions.”

“I already forgave you, gioia mia. I forgave you even before you asked to be forgiven.”

“I know, hayati. But please, let me spoil you tonight. All I ask from you in return is that you’ll always and ever be only mine.”

“I always will be. I always was.”

“I understand that now. But I need you to tell me while you spill inside my mouth. I need you to tell me as you open me up for your knot. And I need you to tell me when you knot me, Nicky. I need you to tell me over and over again, because you are mine and I am yours.”

Two months ago, Joe would have never allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of his alpha. But things are different now. Nicky takes care of him whenever he needs it, however he needs it. Whether that’s by fucking out Joe’s brains or taking a cold bath with him when he’s feverish with heat.

“I can do that,” Nicky says breathlessly, and Joe smiles. Nicky will not ever deny him anything.

And so Nicky starts telling Joe how much he belongs to him, even though alphas are taught that their omegas are theirs and not the other way around.

“I am yours, gioia mia, only ever yours. You hold my heart in your hands and my body is yours to command. I live to satisfy you.”

“And they say I am the incurable romantic,” Joe growls as he dips down to lick Nicky’s cock. “Keep going, Nicky, please,” he adds, and he doesn’t care if it comes out whining, begging.

“I belong to you, alpha,” he whispers, lips against the mark.

***

They lie together afterwards, smeared with sweat and slick and cum, Nicky still inside Joe, boneless and sated. And Joe wants to tell Nicky, wants to say the words he never thought he would speak. But it is Nicky, and he wants to so badly, so he does.

The bond throbs between them, and where it once was a meagre trickle, hesitant and fragile, which could be cut off at any point, it now is a mighty ocean, flooding both of them, and crashing them together as inevitably as the moon reflects the sun.

#the old guard #joenicky #kaysanova #A/B/O #i write things

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re1d · 4 years

Text

i know, and i love you | spencer reid

→ summary: nightmares haunt reid late at night. nothing is supposed to be there for him. he is supposed to be alone, but you’d never let that happen. → warnings: mentions of drugs, death, blood, and overall sadness → word count: 3.2k → a/n: i just got to the episodes where reid’s in prison n then i just rly rly wanted to write a post-prison!reid fic :’’)) // ALSO the formatting of this fic is kind of strange, the italics are spencer telling the story jic anyone gets confused !!

Blood. Delgado’s blood. Cat’s cloying smirk. The cut from the knife that killed Nadie Ramos. Everything blurs together. Spencer relives each memory and he is brought back to each cognitive interview he suffered through. He feels his hands squeezing Cat’s neck, JJ’s voice had sounded behind him, but all he can hear is the blood pounding in his ears. The sensation of her skin under his fingers, hands digging into her throat floods him with both terror and satisfaction. Pain courses through his thigh as he remembers the shiv that he coerced Shaw to stab him with.

Agony and fear pull him from his nightmare as he bolts up in bed next to you. The covers fly up, allowing a cool gust of air to wash over your body. His ragged breathing is the first thing your hear when you wake. Beside you, Spencer’s chest heaves as he tries to slow the memories traveling through his mind. He still sees the blood, still feels the pain, still experiences the trauma. His own words ring in the quietude of the early morning; they take over his being to the point where he can just barely feel the pressure of your hand on his shoulder. “Because you and I ... we deserve each other. That is the real secret.” Spencer wants to rip out his vocal chords and scrub them down with lye soap; he said those words, they came from his lips and he couldn’t feel worse about them.

“Her ... It was her again,” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as it rides on the thick atmosphere of your small bedroom. You know he has more to say—you can feel it. “No—it was everything. I saw everything. Mexico, Lindsey, Cat, my ...” he trails off into nothingness, but you can tell what he was about to say. His mom. “[Y/N], I ... I told her that we deserved each other, and—and it’s true. You’re so much better than me in every way; you’re sweet and kind and strong, and I’m just a little kid who still has nightmares.”

The bed shakes as you stand up on top of it, stepping over Spencer’s legs to be able to sit crisscross in front of him. As you plop down, bed springs creak. Darkness envelopes Spencer’s hunched over form, but you can see him as clear as day. Reaching out, you place your hands atop his, encouraging him to meet your gaze. “Spence—look at me,” the command is solid, reassuring, “you need to stop and breathe, okay? Sit up straight and take deep breaths with me. It’ll help, I promise. Then, we can get up and talk about it over coffee, sound good?” His eyes dart around the room once before the tension in his shoulders dissipates little by little.

“[Y/N], I-I’m not sure I want to talk about it.” Sympathy is painted on your features as you give his hands a tight squeeze. Shaking your head, you purse your lips, attempting to hold back tears threatening to fall while you’re in the presence of his pitiful state. His upper body moves with each inhale and exhale cycle. In. Out. In. Out. Routine, structure, necessity.

“I know, Spence, but you know what happens when you hold things in. Eventually, it eats away at you. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna put a pot on, you’re gonna join me in the kitchen, and we’re finally gonna talk through this.” He shivers, letting you stand and lead him out of your shared bedroom. Light switches are passed by as you navigate through the inky corridors—the only illumination being the moon’s tender glow. “I talked to Will a couple weeks after JJ had gotten home from that child abduction case in LA a couple months ago. He told me that he just sat there and let her vent to him, so that’s what we’re gonna do, okay? You are gonna tell me—word for word, memory for memory—what happened. In Mexico, in prison, in your mind. Spence, you’ve been through hell and back—and, yes, I know that you’re taking a mandated break every thirty days and that you’ve been through counselling—but you deserve to be able to talk to someone who doesn’t have a solution, or methods, or anything like that. Just please, let me listen.”

With a sigh and a hesitant nod, Spencer takes a seat across from you at the island in your small kitchen. He presses the heel of his palm into his right eye, trying to push away the warped reality that his vision presents. Even being awake doesn’t keep the nightmares at bay; in his life, he doesn’t think he’ll ever go a day without looking over his shoulder, although the hope is always there, buried deep inside of him. The sound of ceramic sliding against the wood marble counter top breaks the quietude, and he forces himself to meet your hazy stare.

“Well,” he begins, taking a sip of the sugary drink, “I guess I’ll start with getting off of the prison bus ...”

Spencer’s breathing sped up as he stood in line with the other prisoners. Each bellow of another person’s name sent shudders down his spine. He could feel his heart beating in his throat; the harsh thrumming sensation made him think he was going to throw up. A shout of his last name pulled him from his stupor, but when he was thrown back into the line, his heart seemed to stop. There was no longer any noise. He couldn’t hear anything—no names, no yelling, nothing.

He trudged behind the others, the shackles around his wrists and ankles feeling more like weights than intended. The bright orange of their uniforms burned his eyes, but there didn’t seem to be anything else to look at. Cool air sliced through the fabric like a hunting knife gutting a fish. He felt the laser-like stares of guards boring into his back. Every step he took sent a pang of torment through his body, and before he knew it, he had changed, showered, and ended up in the dorm.

The box of his things was gone. Terror coursed through his veins as three inmates surrounded him. “It’s party time,” one of them had said. His voice ached from the muffled screams that begged to be released. And it wasn’t until he was being held with a shiv pointed at his eye that the severity of the situation hit him. Thoughts of you, your smile, the way you would hold him after an awful case—everything came flooding back to him. Although he didn’t clamp his eyes shut, he prayed to anything that would listen to allow him to live to see you again.

“Back off,” a voice sounded from the outskirts of the dark bathroom, “back off, now.” Relief spread through his body, seeping into the deepest parts of him. Looking at the man shrouded in shadow, he does what he’s told and leaves as quickly as he arrived. Gratitude. That was the only emotion evident in Spencer when he finally lets himself fall into the arms of sleep.

“Okay, okay, whoa,” your voice tugs him from his explanation, “slow down, Spencer.” Reaching up to his face, he feels the wetness drenching his cheeks. Tears, he realizes. He’s crying. “Spence, honey, this can be enough for tonight if you want. We don’t have to keep going.” Grasping his hand from your spot across from him, you attempt to bring him back to reality. With a shake of his head, you’re given an answer and he launches into yet another prison anecdote. You present him with a tissue and he refuses.

“What’s the point if more tears are just around the corner?” A weak laugh escapes his lips as you lift his hand up to cup your cheek and press firm kisses into his palm. “Let’s keep going,” he says with a somewhat forced smile, “I won’t be able to go back to sleep now, anyways.”

Back. Reid was back and working with Delgado in the laundry room. The white sheets and smell of detergent overwhelmed his senses with the feeling of the countless hotels he’d stayed in for work. But, by God, he’d never let that slip in here. If Spencer had, he would’ve been beaten to a pulp before Calvin could tell the prisoners not to.

His mind wandered as he folded blanket after blanket. It went back to Mexico, going over Nadie Ramos’ death again and again. Spencer was so deep in his daydreaming that he didn’t hear the first call directed at him. And, it wasn’t until a distinct thud pulled him from his thoughts did he realize that Delgado was being gripped in a choke hold, a shiv pointed at the side of his neck. Spencer would never forget the look of panic on his face, in his heart—it vaguely reminded him Ryan Phillips, the first boy he couldn’t save. He tried to shout, to yell, to save his only friend behind bars, but it was to no avail.

Luis coughed, blood dripping steadily from the slit in his throat. Spencer shook off the gang member that held him and rushed towards the man with a towel in hand. He repeated the same words over and over like a mantra.—it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay. Eventually, he wasn’t able to tell if he was saying it to comfort Delgado or himself. “Help!” He screamed, but no one seemed to hear him. He was alone with a corpse, with Luis’ face having paled to match the cold gray of the laundry room floor.

Days after, he was still waking up in a cold sweat, the image of the viscid, red liquid haunting him more than it had ever done before. Everything was getting worse—his paranoia, his nightmares, his chances of being freed. His thoughts were becoming consumed with murder after murder, but the more his mind raced, the more comfortable the thought of hurting people grew. And so, he poisoned the drugs he was supposed to push—Frazier and his gang deserved a taste of their own medicine. He caused people agony on purpose, and he didn’t feel bad. He liked it.

“I liked it, [Y/N]! I liked it—I liked hurting those people!” His voice is rising, to be honest, it scares you to see him like this, but you’d never let him know that. Spencer stands swiftly, and the sound of the chair scraping against your tile floor makes you jump. He darts to the bathroom with a hand covering his mouth. However, before he can turn completely away from you, you’re able to see the fear in his eyes. It’s obvious to you now that despite being free, he’s never truly left the Milburn Correctional Facility. The darkness that surrounds his past hit you with the force of a thousand elephants as you follow him through the dark corridors of your apartment.

The bathroom door is closed, locked. Pressing your back into the wood, you slide down and hug your legs into your chest. On the other side, Spencer retches into the toilet bowl, his knuckles white from the grip he has on the porcelain. Turning around, you cross your legs and rest your forehead on the board. “Spence,” you say, loud enough for him to hear you, but still soft enough to be tender, “please. What can I do to help? How can I—.”

The door swings open, but your lover is still hunched over the bowl of the toilet, looking solemnly into the water. He reaches up the press the handle, but his hand slips away, laying limply beside him. The sight of him is pitiful; he looks so weak, so frail. It seems that one touch would break him into a million pieces. Spencer glances at you, but his expression is blank, void, even as tears are welling up in his eyes. “Spence,” you’re still, sitting on the other side of the visible threshold, “I-I’m so sorry. This is all my fault, I shouldn’t have made you talk about it if you didn’t want to. Oh God, I’m sorry. You obviously weren’t ready to go through it again, and I pushed you anyway.” While you’re rambling, he turns away from the toilet to face you. He’s staring into you, at your heart, your soul, your mind.

“It’s okay,” he mumbles, wiping the back of his hand over his lips, “I would’ve woken you up again if we hadn’t talked.” It’s your turn to cry. He watches you carefully, slowly beginning to feel again. A tingling replaces the emptiness that once occupied his body.

“Spencer, that doesn’t matter, and it’s not okay. I’m supposed to know when enough is enough. I’m supposed to love you and care for you, and now, I’ve dredged up your past. I literally made you throw up, Spencer. I’m sorry.” You move closer to him cautiously, eyeing his movement to see if he wanted you to stop. “I’m so sorry. For everything, love. For Mexico, your mom, Luis.”

Your words cause him to scramble away from you, his back hitting the wall of the bathtub with a soft thump. Burying his face in his hands, he claws at the crown of his head and he cries. Sobs rack his body as he folds into himself, his arms clutching at his stomach. Your heart aches as you watch him fall apart piece by piece, but you make no effort to stop him, to console him. Spencer’s face grows crimson, the force of his undeniable anguish stealing away his breath. Rocking back and forth, he attempts to calm down. He recalls your instructions from earlier in the morning about breathing, and he follows them. In. Out. In. Out. InOutInOutInOut. As he’s doing the simple exercise, Spencer registers the feeling of your worried gaze resting on him. It doesn’t make him uncomfortable, like it does when other people stare at him—it makes him even more sad.

His body trembles from the physical exertion it was put through, and he lets his head drop between his knees. “[Y/N].” The broken sound of your name falling from his lips evokes a pang of hurt in your stomach, “I’m so scared.” Your lip quivers at his statement. His voice is so small, yet so sure. Spencer is afraid, terrified even. “I’m scared of using again. I thought about Dilaudid almost every night in prison. But, you know what crushed me? It was the thought of losing you, [Y/N]. I was so afraid of you not being there when I got out that I refused to let you see me at my ... at my worst,” his composure waivers, “But, in reality, I ... have no idea what I would do if I didn’t have you.” He takes a sharp inhale, and it’s clear that the sudden monologue had sucked away any energy that he had left.

“Spencer,” you mumble through tears, “can I—can I touch you? Is that okay?” When your husband nods, you shuffle towards his weak frame slumped against the tub. Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, you reach to the other side of his face and gently push so that his head rests on your shoulder. Both of you stare not at each other, but into the abyss that is your bedroom. The sun peeks through the blinds, a pale gold replacing the white moonlight that once reigned. “Spence?” You ask, not particularly looking for him to answer, “You know you’ll never lose me, right?”

As his mind ponders the simplicity of your question, he drifts back to one of the best days of his life.

Cold air nipped at his nose, the sight of Garcia and Luke racing towards him from a black van flooded him with relief. But, something was missing. You were missing. Noticing his relentless searching, JJ placed a hand on his shoulder, as if to tell him not to worry. “[Y/N]’s waiting at the office, Spence. Emily is with her, they’re going over the details of the case. She ... she said that when she sees you, she might explode.” Disappointment coursed through Spencer’s veins, as he climbed into the back of one of the SUVs, but he kept it well hidden.

Soon enough, Spencer realized the way to his old apartment that Cassie and his mother had been staying in. Before everything with Diana had even happened, Spencer was moving into your apartment, closer to Quantico. But, the process had come to a halt because of the personal issues that would only worsen when combined with the stress of moving. He had apologized over and over again, and you had reassured him that none of it was his fault, or his mother’s for that matter. You made sure that he knew that you loved both of them and would do anything you could to help.

“Okay, Spence,” JJ’s voice ripped him from his memory, “you gotta focus now. We’re gonna head into your apartment to get changes of clothes and things like that, but you also need to look for things that could give us new information about where your mom is.” He nods while lifting up the caution tape stretched across his door frame. Truthfully, only half of his mind was focused on finding clues—the other was occupied by thoughts of you. Your face, your smile, the way you used to hug him. He wondered—would you still hug him like that?

He walked alongside JJ, Garcia, and Luke, entering the elevator and riding it up to the BAU’s floor. Spencer’s heart raced; his nerves were obvious because of the way he drummed his fingers on his thigh. Then, time itself stopped. The elevator doors slid open, revealing you, clutching desperately onto Emily and Rossi’s hands.

“Go get her, Reid,” Luke’s words echoed in the back of his mind as he rushed through the doors to collect you in his arms. His hands were splayed against your back, attempting to hold all of you at once. The slight pressure of your hand on the back of his head, rubbing gently into his scalp sent him to Heaven. Spencer inhales deeply, taking in the comforting scent of old books, laundry detergent, and a hint of vanilla. Separating from him, you cupped his cheeks and pulled your lips down to his. It was a kiss that he would replay well into the future. The supple feeling of your mouth moving against his made his whole body light up. He was on fire, passion and yearning seeping into the deepest parts of his body.

At this point, the team had returned to the case. However, you two were far too enraptured with immense longing to notice. Finally breaking the kiss, Spencer pressed his forehead to yours, your breath mingling with his in the best way possible. Words were unnecessary because, as a wise woman once said, “love is a world of its own that lives in the heart, not in the head.”

Your question plays on a loop in Spencer’s head. You know you’ll never lose me, right? You know you’ll never lose me, right? You know you’ll never lose me, right? He knows—of course he knows. He’ll never forget it. But, it isn’t until you ask it again that he gives you an answer.

“Spencer? You know that, right?”

“I know, [Y/N].” The pause he takes is to let the absolute truth of his statement set in. “I know.” He says it like its a mantra, a spell that will keep him safe until the end of time. “I know.” Again and again and again, his words fill the emptiness of that bathroom with warmth, despite the tears drying on his cheeks.

“I know, and I love you.”

#mine #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #jennifer jareau #cat adams #david rossi #emily prentiss #matt simmons #tara lewis

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hyperfixationswithkate · 3 years

Text

connect | davey jacobs

reader x davey jacobs

[modern newsies au]

summary: It’s been two years since they spoke, and they need a wedding date. What could go wrong?

The opening of ‘You’re My Best Friend’ plays as you anxiously await for a response. The song he’d made his contact all those years ago as a joke but you’re too sentimental to let it go. You sprint across your apartment to grab it. “Hi,” you pant into the receiver. “As for your proposition, for you” your old friend said, “anything”. Your heartbeat races even faster at the thought of seeing him again. “Thank you” “See you then” He says and then the receiver clicks.

Almost a month and a half later, you sit on your couch waiting. Fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, you think about the last time you saw him. It was almost two years ago now. After graduation, you two had slowly grown apart. People thought you guys were made for each other, actual soulmates, but time is a cruel mistress. Romance was never a word you would use to describe your relationship with Davey. He was always your partner in crime, your best friend, never your boyfriend. Well not never, the amount of times you’d see him laugh or talking or just existing and imagine a world where you two weren’t just friends. But the possibility of love wasn’t worth risking a friendship over.

Somehow the idea of seeing him still makes you feel butterflies. Even though he recently moved to New York for a grad program, you didn’t reach out with the fear of being awkward or just wanting to leave things the way they were. But a friend’s wedding where they were desperate to meet your childhood friend after learning he’s in town and needing a date, a proposal arised.

It wasn’t a large wedding but large enough that you could leave early if things got weird. Getting cornered into bringing a guy you haven’t seen in years to a wedding where you barely knew the bride wasn’t the finest combo but it will have to do. All your worries and fears were pulled from your mind with a knock on the door. ‘Here we go’ you thought. You pull the door open with a deep breath as you see him.

Wow, college has done him well. Davey was always handsome but wow. Maybe time isn’t so criminal after all. Suits make anybody better but damn does he pull it off. “Hey, long time no see” he says, “shut up” you breathe as you hug him. The silk of the suit touches your face, you can smell the laundry detergent. The same one he’s used since he was a kid. The stale cotton smell fills your mind with nostalgia. Memories of crying into his shirt over god knows what, or borrowing a jacket from his car after a spring rain. A small smell brings you back to a past life, a completely different person, someone afraid of the endless possibility of the future. But his voice brings you back to the present. As he pulls away from the hug, he says “So y/n, what’s the plan?”

You two leave your apartment in an almost awkward silence. The fear of making things weird after two years of limited contact weights on you. As you approach his car, he says “so how did you get wrapped into a wedding?” You take a moment to reply and say “I barely know at this point, the groom is a friend of mine from my freshman writing class. His friend group is filled with frat boys and trust fund babies but he’s an alright guy and I am still easily peer pressured.” You ramble.

“You have a theme of finding the one alright guy in a group of animals” He says, winking at you. “A prime example being your juvenile posse from freshman year.” You say. Davey playfully gasps, acting offended. “Jack, Race, Romeo, and the rest of the goonies weren't exactly angels but they weren't heathens” He says in an overly dramatic tone.

He changes the subject before I can poke fun at his boys again saying “Me and Jack are sharing an apartment while I finish my double major and while he’s still doing random things to pay for art school. Some of the other boys are around town. It’s kind of homely though, especially through the first couple weeks. What was it like living somewhere completely new all on your own?” You think for a second and say “It’s kind of nice. Starting completely fresh. No one has any expectation of who you are. It was rough at first without anyone close but I was able to change without fear of ruining old friendships.” He nodded silently, definitely thinking about my statement and analyzing it like the over thinker he’s always been.

We sat in a comfortable silence as we approached his car. Davey takes two large steps to reach the car door before you, “M’lady” he says as he opens the door. The inside of his car smelled like a lemon air freshener and his dashboard was covered in post it notes with random things scribbled on them. “What are these?” you say, staring at the little notes. “Oh well they started by me forgetting things all the time and it evolved into the boys leaving notes every time they’re in here alone. I’m too sappy to take them down” He replies as he gets into the driver seat. ‘If you mess this up, I’ll deck ya. Love Race’ reads one of the notes. Davey notices you eyeing the note as he starts the car and says quietly “Race wrote that one about today. He really wants us to be close again so when I drive down here to see you, I pick up cheap weed for him.” ''God that's such a Race thing to do'' you say laughing. He makes nervous eye contact with you that makes you think that maybe weed wasn’t Race’s only motive for us meeting again. But Davey speaks before your mind can race too far off, “So what’s the address for this wedding venue?”

As we drive for a few minutes, Davey turns on the radio to fill the weird gap of silence between conversations and of course the first sing playing is “You’re my best friend” by Queen. The song about your partner being your best friend is playing, the song that could definitely be labeled as “our song” is playing, the universe is playing a cruel game on us today. Davey turns to you recognizing how significant this song is and says “You better remember all the words to this song” and of course I do. I reply by singing the opening verse very loudly. To which he does the exact same thing. As the song fades out, he says “I remember listening to that in high school. We used to sit on your bedroom floor and do homework while the whole Night At The Opera album played”. The nostalgia flooding back to you as his eyes focus back on the road. A particular memory stands out.

One night we were both studying for our AP Lit test in my bedroom. It was almost 2am and you’d been studying for hours. We snuck down to the kitchen for some snacks before the final haul of work. Running down the stairs your feet slip and Davey catches you in his arms. As you balance again, his arms don’t fall away and you turn to face him about to ask him if something is wrong. His eyes staring deeply into yours as you look at him and you savor the feeling of his warm hands on your arms. The moment quickly passed when your cat meowed very loudly at your feet, scaring the both of you apart. After raiding your kitchen, you two swiftly return upstairs to finish studying and hopefully avoiding another borderline romantic encounter for the evening. Once you close your bedroom door, Davey said “What’s your favorite record at the moment?”. He was trying to avoid studying but I didn’t really care. “Currently it’s A Night At The Opera by Queen. I just got it on vinyl and it’s definitely a winner” I say back. “Well then put it on” he says jokingly gesturing to the small record player in my room. “Alright mate” you mumble in a vague british accent knowing that’ll get him to laugh, and of course he does. You put on the record and the opening instrumental starts playing.

We study for most of the album, only interrupted by pages flipping, pencils scratching, yawning, and me flipping the record. By the end of the album, we’re both lying on the floor staring at the ceiling in exhaustion, the carpet touching my bare arms as the final notes fade out. “That was incredible,” Davey says quietly, turning to face me on the ground. “I know” I say nodding, leaning towards him. For a few seconds, we were close enough together we could have kissed. Staring at each other waiting for the other to make a move. He turns away, a fear of making things weird overcomes him. You can tell in his face that he regrets it the moment he turns.

The memory fades as the car stops at a red light. Turning to Davey as his eyes are fixed on the road, you see the side profile that you saw everyday at school. The slightly crooked nose that got broken from a flying book during lunch. The eyebrow that has a small scar above it from tripping at the city pool during freshman year. The pink blotch of color on his cheek that never seems to leave no matter the temperature. All these memories attached to him for better or for worse.

He notices you staring as he turns the corner. “What?” he says quietly, blushing. “Nothing, just thinking” you say equally as quiet. “About what?” he almost whispers. Just as you panic about what to say, the GPS says “You have arrived at your destination”

#davey jacobs #davey x reader #davey jacobs x reader #davey jacobs modern au #newsies #newsies musical #davey jacobs fluff #davey jacobs angst #connect #fic #gender neutral reader #please give me feedback

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nicole-lynne · 4 years

Text

If You Scare Me, You Have to Kiss Me

This was a request from @armyaghasekpop4ever for a fluffy Peter Parker story. I’m sorry this is so late, but I finally got a little bit of motivation so here’s this. Hope you enjoy and forgive me for it taking forever! I also didn’t proof read this soooooo apologies.

Give a like/reblog/comment if you enjoy this!

The noisy video game blasted from the tv speakers while you and best friend, Peter, bickered about who was going to win the racing game you were playing. Peter kept reaching across the couch to mess with your controller and tickling you so you were squirming around while you kept trying to push him away from you but he just laughed and continued, using his super strength.

"Can you two please calm down." May asked, walking into the living room. Both of you stopped to stare at her, baffled at the slinky red dress she was wearing. It wasn't very often she dressed up but when she did, she could knock the socks off of anyone.

"Wow, May, you look hot! You have a date?" You pretended to fan yourself and she waved you off before encouraging you to continue jokingly.

"As a matter of a fact, I do. It's a man I met who works at the shelter, John. You said you’re staying tonight since your parents are out of town, right? Are you two going to be fine for dinner?"

You nodded reassuringly, attempting to hide the fact that you were psyched to be alone with Peter for the night. He’d been your best friend since you’d moved into the building a few years ago and the two of you spent almost every day together. There was also a tiny part of you that was crushing on him - hard. It would be impossible not to. He was crazy smart, hilarious, kind, attractive, and a literal superhero, not that many people knew that.

There was only the very obvious reason why you hadn’t told him yet. You were completely terrified to lose him if things went bad. Peter and May were always there for you with your parents traveling so much for work and you weren’t sure what you’d do if you didn’t have them to turn to.

"We'll survive. Although you may not have a nephew to come home to if he keeps cheating."

"Hey! I am not cheating, it's not my fault you suck at this game."

"I don't suck, you keep messing me up." You shouted as you threw a pillow at his head which he dodged and narrowly missed before he settled back into his space next to you, the heat coming off his skin making a shiver run down your spine.

"It's alright, hun, we all know that I'm fine as long as I've got my favorite girl." May patted your shoulder and you both started giggling at the shocked look on Peter’s face. "I put some money on the counter for take out later. Please try not to kill each other while I'm gone."

"I'll behave if he behaves. Have fun, May!" You called out after her as she ran out and closed the door. "Now, where was I? Oh yeah, kicking your ass."

Next to you, Peter still hadn't picked up his controller, instead, he was staring at the closed door in deep thought. You started snapping your fingers loudly, trying to get his attention, and his focus shifted to you.

“You okay, Pete?”

“Ye-yeah, I just was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie?”

“What about the game?”

“Eh, I’ve beat you enough for today, gotta give you a chance to rest up.” He teased with a little sparkle in his eyes. Rolling your eyes, you shoved his arm futilely and he chuckled at how weak you were. “Why don’t you go order the food while I pick a movie.”

“Fine, but don’t pick anything stupid. I don’t think I can handle watching Animal House or Die Hard for the thousandth time.” You said over your shoulder, ignoring his inevitable eyeroll.

“Those movies are classics, I tell you, classics!” For as much as he protested your disinterest in his favorite movies, Peter had a different movie in mind and clicked through netflix until he found the one.

He’d been trying, and chickening out, for months to tell you how he felt about you. So instead, he’d been settling for finding any possible way to have you right next to him. Luckily, you were completely terrified of scary movies and he knew, without a doubt, that your soft body would be pressed against him in minutes if he could convince you to watch it.

He queued it up just in time as you walked back in, chattering away to the girl from the Thai place next door.

“Kanya said it’ll be up in ten minutes. What’d you pick?”

“It’s called Lights Out.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Peter Benjamin Parker, that sounds like a scary movie. You know I don’t do scary movies.”

“Oh come on, I’ve been dying to see it since it came out. And I spend all my time with you so I haven’t had the chance. It won’t be that bad,” flashing you the puppy eyes, he folding his hands together, “please?”

With one look from his big brown eyes, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to say no to him. You looked around the room, anywhere but him, and he knew that he had you. You almost never looked at him when you were about to give in.

“Ugh, alright! You owe me two chick flicks and dinner from that Italian place I love.”

“No way, I hate that place.” Peter grumbled.

“Do you want me to watch this movie or not? Because I’m perfectly happy to watch something happier.”

He stood still for a few minutes, pretending to think about the options. “Okay, deal. Next weekend, you and me, rom coms, and Magiano’s.” Throwing out his hand, you two shook on the deal at the same time there was a knock on the door.

While you set up the food, Peter shut the curtains, turned off the lights, and draped the blanket over you both. Clicking play, he gave you a small nudge and your heart fluttered at how happy he looked.

~~~

Two hours later, you were smushed right against Peter, hiding your face behind his shoulder, peeking up once in a while to watch the girl on the tv be attacked by the demon shadow thing. Everytime you jumped your nails would dig in his arm and Peter would laugh and rub your thigh lightly to comfort you. Secretly, he’d barely even been watching the movie, only watching you, and loving every minute of it.

The moment you opened one eye to see what was going to happen next, there was a loud crash outside on the fire escape, the sound making you jump out of your skin and start screaming bloody murder. Popcorn flew through the air and covered their laps. Peter instantly pulled you into his arms protectively, on high alert for danger, before he realized the stray neighborhood cat had knocked over a plant.

“Hey, it’s alright, it was just Alley Cat.” The tension melted out of Peter’s muscles, but he kept his arms around you.

“Are you sure?” Your voice muffled against his neck, your warm breath making his eyes flutter shut for just a moment.

“Yes, I’m positive, you’re safe. Plus, you know I wouldn’t let anything hurt you.” He said quietly.

Slowly, you lifted your head up to look up at him, your cheeks burning with embarrassment and your heart thumping erratically in your chest. Carefully, he lifted his hand and brushed your hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear, studying your reaction closely.

The smell of his laundry detergent mixed with the spearmint of his toothpaste and was fogging your brain. You’d been this close to him before but something felt different and your chest was tight with nerves. Glancing down between your two bodies, you saw that Peter had pulled you onto his lap in the chaos of it all.

“Oops, I’m sorry-” You quickly shifted to get off him, but his arm was still wrapped around your waist and he held you tight so you couldn’t move.

“Don’t be sorry...I like it.” He had never said anything like that before and you searched his face, certain he was joking around with you. His face stayed serious and you knew if you turned the lights on, there would be a hint of pink growing on his cheeks.

“You do?” You managed to squeak in response.

Peter let out a breathy chuckle, “how could I not?”

“Well, because I’m crushing you and this is kind of a close encounter and you think I’m your personal space.”

“Okay, one, you’re not crushing me, you dingbat. You weigh absolutely nothing to me. And two, I like having you in my personal space.” Then he sharply inhaled and his eyes went wide. “Did that sound weird? God, that was a stupid thing to say-”

“Pete,” you held a finger to his lips, stopping his string of babble. “It wasn’t weird. I, um, I like being this close to you.”

Vaguely you could feel his fingers rubbing circles on your back and they had only stopped for a fraction of a second when you said that. You held your breath as the words sunk in to him, your finger falling from his lips gradually. The situation was already intimate enough, might as well add a little more to it.

“You do?” He asked, echoing your earlier question.

“I guess your spidey sense hasn’t been working much lately?” You rolled your eyes, a small smirk playing on your lips.

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Have you not noticed how much you make my heart race or how I get goosebumps every time your skin just barely brushes against mine? How I spend literally all of my time with you instead of anyone else.” Taking a deep breath, you spoke again. “I like you, Peter. A lot.”

His jaw dropped open and you giggled. Lifting a finger underneath his jaw, you closed his mouth but his face still looked mystified.

“You’ll catch flies that way, dork-”

Peter cut you off by connecting his lips to yours in a hurried kiss. Before you could register what had happened, he was pulling away and you were chasing his lips, your eyes still closed with satisfaction. Finally, you hazily blinked your eyes open to see Peter grinning.

Heat surfaced on your cheeks and you let your head drop onto his shoulder, hiding your face from his view. His hand cupped the back of your head and he was pressing little kisses to the parts of your face he could reach.

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for so long.” He whispered under his breath. “I like you too, have for a while.”

You lifted your head just enough that you could smile up at him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips before slipping your arms around his waist. “I was so worried you would reject me...”

“I’d have to be an idiot to reject someone as gorgeous and amazing as you. You make me so happy. When you moved in a few years ago, I thought I was having a heart attack. Just one look at you made my heart stop, babe.”

Your stomach flipped at the casual use of the nickname. A nickname you’d always wanted to hear from him but never thought you would. You almost had the urge to pinch yourself just to make sure that this was truly happening and not some sick joke from your subconscious.

“I can’t believe I waited so long to tell you when I could have been kissing you this whole time.” Peter tightened his hold on you, keeping you firm against his chest.

You snorted. “I can’t believe I had to watch that scary movie just for you to finally kiss me.”

Peter’s chest rumbled below you with a chuckle. “Well we never actually finished the movie, ya know, so I guess I don’t have to go to Magiano’s after all.”

“No, no, no,” You shot up quickly and thumped him on the arm. “You’re not getting out of Magiano’s, Peter Parker. If anything, you owe me even more because I’m now allowing you to kiss me.”

Smiling sweetly, he brushed his lips against yours again before relenting, “babe, I’ll go anywhere you want.”

#Peter Parker #Fluff peter #spider man #spiderman #tom holland #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fanfiction #nicole-lynnerequests #peter parker story

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