#and it’s either the tiniest baby you’ve ever seen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katsu28 · 4 months ago

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welcome home, little guy

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: to you, summer break means no races, no responsibilities, and all the poolside piña coladas you can drink. apparently to your boyfriend, it means bringing home a new addition to your family. (1.8k)

a/n: working on way too many things at once rn but i simply couldn't resist <3 lando puppy video u will always be famous to me

To say you’re looking forward to the summer break is an understatement. It’s the first time during the whole season you get to spend two straight weeks with Lando, doing whatever you want, whenever you want. No races, no working, nothing but relaxing with the love of your life for fourteen whole days. You can only imagine the things you’ll do, the places you’ll go.

Truth be told, he needs this more than you do. Things have been a bit tough lately, on and off the track, so to have some time off to rest and recharge before the second half of the season will be good for him. Good for you too, so you can make sure he isn’t thinking about anything other than his well being.

You’re buzzing with excitement at the thought of him coming home any minute now, opting to await his arrival in the comfort of your shared apartment instead of braving the swarming crowd you know for a fact is waiting for him when his jet touches down in Nice. You’re so eager you’re surprised you haven’t paced a hole in the living room carpet. You like to think you’ll kiss him stupid once you set eyes on him, though you also think you’re more likely to cry a little first.

The beep of the front door padlock powering down pulls you out of your thoughts, and then his voice, achingly familiar and soft, “Baby? Are you home?”

“Yeah!” You say, nearly bouncing on the balls of your feet. He appears from the hallway slowly after a few seconds, and his back is facing you, which makes you pause. “Uh…Lan? What’s happening? Why are you facing the other way?”

“Don’t get mad at me,” He replies over his shoulder, lowering his bag onto the floor gently with one hand.

You narrow your eyes at his back, suspicious more than anything. “Why? What’ve you—oh my god, please don’t tell me you got that tattoo you were talking about a few weeks ago.”

“Alright, relax, I didn’t get a tattoo,” He huffs. He’s still facing backwards. “Though it’s good to know how unsupportive you’ll be if I ever do get it, thanks, babe.”

“Seriously, what is going on with you? And for fuck’s sake, love, will you please turn around?”

He spins on his heel gingerly, beaming so bright it rivals the sun. At first, you think it’s because of you, but then you catch sight of what’s most likely the reason for that big smile, and your breath catches in your chest.

The tiniest puppy you’ve ever seen sits snuggled in Lando’s arms, peering out at you with wide eyes. Dark brown fur covers its head and pointy little ears, fading into a lighter coppery color around its eyes before turning pure white at the snout and along the rest of its body. The same lighter brown spreads in a patch along its back.

“Lando, you did not.”

“I did.”

“Are you serious?”

He smiles guiltily, stepping closer with the pup. “Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m…just surprised, is all. How did you—when did you have time to get a dog while you were working?”

“The team partnered with a shelter for dogs for a video to, like, bring awareness and hopefully get the pups some forever homes, and um, they brought a bunch of puppies,” Lando explains, shifting the puppy a little higher against his chest. You close the leftover gap, reaching out to let the timid pup sniff your hand a few times. “This little guy crawled right up into my lap and didn’t move the whole time we were filming, and I think we just bonded with each other immediately.”

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you?” You smile, stroking its soft fur gently. Whether you’re talking to the puppy or Lando, you’re not really sure, but either way, you’re already feeling yourself start to fall in love.

He gazes down at the dog curled up in the crook of his elbow so fondly you’re almost jealous. You’re not, but you’ve never seen Lando look at anyone or anything with this much love in his eyes before (other than you, and maybe spring rolls). “I know we've never really talked a lot about the right time to get a dog, but I couldn’t—I knew I couldn’t not bring him home with me.”

The pup leans forward, licking your fingertips with his little pink tongue, and your heart melts into a puddle at your feet. It’s true, you’ve had the dog conversation with Lando many times before, all of which always ended the same way. With Lando being away so much and you with your own job, bringing in a new addition to your lives would be tough to figure out.

But as Lando transfers him into your arms, and he instantly nestles up against you like you’re his home, every excuse you’ve ever made for not getting a dog flies right out the window. You know it in your heart, this is the dog you and Lando were meant to love.

“Hi, darling,” You say softly, lifting the pup to your eye level. He’s so small he fits comfortably in two hands, tiny black nose twitching as he cranes his neck out to sniff at you. “You really did a number on this one, huh? Made him fall in love with you?”

Lando steps behind you, sliding his arms around your waist to bring you flush against him. He hooks his chin over your shoulder comfortably, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he gives the pup scratch under the chin. “Seems like he’s doing the same to you.”

“Seems like it,” You hum. You bring him back against your chest and up towards Lando, who breaks into a fit of giggles as his nose gets a good few licks.

“So…can we keep him?”

“This isn’t going to be easy, Lan, you know that, right?” You say. He nods. “We’ve got to take him to the vet, set up sessions with a trainer, potty train him. Figure out how we’re gonna do this when you’re gone.”

“We’ll figure it out before I leave again, baby. We’ve got time,” He insists, rubbing his hands up and down your arms reassuringly. “Besides, I’ve already asked Charles and Alex for tips, they’re coming round for lunch and a chat as soon as they’re back in Monaco. And they’re bringing Leo, so who knows, maybe these two will become best friends.”

“Look at you, planning puppy playdates already. He’s got forever with us now, you know? Let’s get him used to us and this place before we introduce him to others, dog dad.”

Lando scoffs, but not unkindly. More amused than anything. “Well! Seems like we already know which one is going to be the mean parent out of the both of us, don’t we, Archie?”

“That’s his name? Archie?”

“It’s the one the shelter gave him, but we can still change it if we find one we like more.”

“No, it’s perfect,” You murmur, planting a kiss atop Archie’s furry head. “Welcome home, Archie.”

“Yeah,” Lando replies, squeezing you a little tighter. “Welcome home, little guy. We love you so much already.”

You angle your head towards him, catching his chin with your free hand, bringing him towards you and kissing him gently. Lando all but melts into you, happily reciprocating. “Welcome home to you too, my love.”

“Mm, I’ve missed you,” He hums, nuzzling into the crook of your neck with a content, deflating sigh. “Gonna be a nice break, innit? No more grainy video chats or time differences for fourteen days, just you and me.”

Archie lets out a whine, the first noise he’s made since Lando’s gotten home, as if to remind the both of you that he’s here too. Lando laughs, smoothing his fingers between the pup’s ears goodnaturedly. “And you too, of course, buddy.”

You know Archie can’t understand a word either of you say, but the way he cocks his head intuitively makes you think that maybe, just maybe, he might.

-------

You’re used to Lando being an early riser, but he always stays in bed waiting for you to wake up on his off days, ready to cuddle with you until one of you gets hungry.

This morning, however, when you lazily reach out an arm to find him, you come up with nothing but cold sheets. Blinking the sleep out of your eyes as much as you can, you squint over at his side of the bed to see his squashed pillow and rumpled duvet, but no Lando. In your half asleep state, part of you thinks you’d just imagined him coming home with a puppy yesterday.

But then you see the crinkly fish shaped toy on the floor in the hall as you go to find Lando, the one you’d insisted on getting on your impromptu trip to the nearest pet supply store last night despite all his huffing and puffing about it.

It’s Archie’s favorite out of all the toys you’d bought, you’d say, based on the way he’d dragged it around the living room for ages even though it was nearly the size of him.

Lando’s laying on the floor in the middle of the kitchen when you make your way in, spread eagle on his back with said puppy standing right on his chest. As soon as he spots you, he lifts his head, grinning at you excitedly. Archie takes note of the sudden movement and barks, leaping off Lando and making a beeline straight to where you’re crouched with open hands.

“Little traitor!” Lando grumbles, pouting as he pulls himself into a cross-legged position. “I’ve played with you for the last hour and you run away as soon as someone else comes along? Rejection is a bitter cold.”

“Don’t be jealous, Lan. Archie just knows who his favorite is already.”

“That’s bullshit,” He scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. He directs his next words at the pup currently enjoying a nice belly rub from you. “Remember who brought you home, Archibald Norris.”

“Hang on, why does he get your last name? Why can’t it be mine?”

Lando shrugs nonchalantly. “Mine’s got a better ring to it. Duh.”

“That’s not fair, he’s my son too, he should have my last name!”

“Fine, we’ll hyphenate. Happy?”

Your nose scrunches, head tilting side to side in contemplation. “Mm, feels like the short end of the stick, but I’ll take it. Alright buddy, go to your dad! Go, go!” You encourage, throwing the fish toy you’d picked up towards Lando.

“Not the fucking fish!” He yelps, but he grabs it anyway, scrambling to his feet to have Archie come after him in pursuit of his beloved toy. Archie barks up a storm as he chases Lando, tongue lolling out of his mouth, little legs moving as quick as they can.

Sure, maybe there won't be any jet setting away on holiday during this break, but it’s fine. You haven’t seen Lando look this happy in a long time now, so you don’t care at all, really.

In fact, as you watch Lando and Archie run around the apartment like they’ve been best buddies forever, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #lando norris imagine

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

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HI RONNIE!!!! HOPE ALL IS WELL POOKIE!! i just have a suggestion for your gojo fics + ts songs if you haven’t done it already bc i havent rlly checked but gorgeous from reputation 😋😋😋

gorgeous

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: nothing much, just some good old thirsting for our favorite sorcerer

an: HELLO MY BELOVED BABIE POOKIE SWEETIE PIE FACE!!! of course I can do gorgeous (which this is actually the fourth time it's been requested for taylor as gojo so I had to do it as fast as I could) fun fact: this was one of my surprise songs when my older sister flew me out to see the eras tour in atlanta!!!!

The rosé is sweet as it trickles down your throat, immediately filling you with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the center of your chest.

“We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.” Nanami says, reaching to take the bottle from you.

“And I’ve had the longest week of my life. Please mind your own business, Kento.” you respond, reaching for the bottle back from him.

A measly tradition from when you were masters students together is now the only reason you’re making it to the end of the week. After a load of corporate bullshit for Nanami, insane work hours for Shoko, and the most disorganized elementary school in the metropolitan area for you, the three of you come together to bitch and get drunk.

Let loose. And let loose really means let loose, because the bartender hates you so much that he has a picture of the three of you printed on the front door with a very menacing Do Not Enter sign next to it.

“Hi Toji.”

“I’m going to permanently ban you from this bar one day. And I’ll feel no remorse when I kick you out on your ass either.”

“Toji, stop flirting with me or I’m going to fall in love with you.”

Toji wrinkles his nose in disgust, looking borderline offended that you would even say such a thing, as he places three beers on the table. You shoot him a wink and he flips you off in response as he walks back to his spot behind the bar.

“So what is that asshat doing?” Nanami asks.

You turn your head to find Hiro, the stupid pathologist you’ve been dating for the past eight months, doing some type of…interpretive dance in the middle of the bar with a blonde girl. Interpretive dance is a nice word for twerking on each other.

“Networking.”

Shoko and Nanami nearly burst out laughing before pushing their bottles towards you, which you happily accept.

“You win. What an absolute idiot.”

You all laugh as you watch Hiro go on, matching disgusted faces plastered on the three of your faces as his arms become more uncoordinated with each changing beat. You turn your head to the side, swallowing down your disgust with Nanami’s beer and silently thanking the Ancient Sumerians for creating the aforementioned beer for you to drown your pity in.

The door of the bar swings open behind you and Nanami and Shoko lift their hands up, giving a polite wave, before sinking back down into their chairs. You turn around to look at who they were waving at and feel your breath get tangled in your throat.

Are you drunk? Yes. Are you a little bit delusional? Probably. Is this probably a result of the idiot you’ve been dating doing some type of weird, inappropriate bird mating call on the dance floor that’s more embarrassing for you than it is for him? For sure.

But the human personification of beauty just walked into the smelly bar and you think you’ve fallen in love. In lust. In whatever you can have with this man, because he’s literally the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

He’s tall, his defined arms peeking out through the white, buttoned collared shirt he’s wearing. His sleeves are pulled just past his forearms, because he’s a whore, putting the tiniest of veins on display and honestly, making you foam at the mouth. Not only is he built, not only is he fit but he literally has the face of a fucking angel.

You’ve never understood that entire thing. Attraction at first sight. You need to sit down, get to know someone, before you can truly like them. And tonight, you stand corrected because there’s something magnetic about him. You can’t help but notice, can’t help but pay attention to him walking around the bar.

You think it’s illegal. Because who the fuck walks into this dinky ass bar looking like that? Sparkly blue eyes, peeking from behind a pair of sunglasses, and perfectly tousled, snow white hair. Looks that could kill. Like literally kill, because your heart is beating so fast it’s going to explode.

He walks past the door and takes a seat at the bar, leaning against the table to order his drink. And you’re sure your inhibitions are not present because of the bottle of wine and now four beers that you’ve downed, but you’re full on ogling him.

Because your day, your week, your life can suck ass but you’ve grown enough to know that you should let yourself enjoy the little things in life. Which includes flagrantly gawking at this beautiful, beautiful stranger.

“You’re staring.”

You turn around to face Shoko and Nanami again, nearly twitching in your seat.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Satoru Gojo. He’s a medical malpractice lawyer, he helped out a co-worker of mine a few months ago.” responds Shoko, placing a fresh cigarette in between her teeth.

“His firm is right across from my office. I see him on the train sometimes on the way to work.” says Nanami, leaning over to light Shoko’s stick.

“Do you know the things I would do to that man?”

“What?”

“I need that man. Horrendously. Biblically. Like we’re Adam and Eve, creating something new. Who the fuck looks like that? Who the fuck walks into Toji’s disgusting ass bar looking like a Greek god? Like an angel descended from the heavens?”

“Are we talking about the same guy?” Shoko asks, blowing the smoke out of her mouth.

“Shut up. Don’t act like you don’t go goo goo ga ga over Utahime every time you see her at one of my work functions. This guy is my Utahime.”

“Y/N. Stop.”

“Shut up Kento. One night with Satoru Gojo and I’d literally lose my fucking mind. Like freak shit - on the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter. Like you know that mind-blowing person you still think about when you’re a smelly, old senile person reliving your glory days when your husband cheats on you? That man under me would be MY glory days. He’s fucking gorgeous.”

You feel a hand slide around your shoulder and the aforementioned gorgeous man is now sitting right next to you, his other hand resting on your knee. He’s smiling, his eyes even more dazzling when they’re filled with the sincerity of a smile.

“Gorgeous, huh?” he says, reaching forward to pinch your cheek.

You stick your face in your hands as you move away from his burning touch.. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He leans forward to shake hands with Shoko and Nanami, exchanging pleasantries with them. The traitors.

“Were you planning on telling me he was standing right behind me listening while I listed all the ways I would do him, Kento?”

“What do you think ‘Y/N stop it’ means?” he responds.

“No need to be ashamed, sweetheart. I think it’s really cute.”

You roll your eyes as you scoot closer to the other edge of the bench, drowning in your embarrassment as Kento and Shoko break into conversation with Gojo.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“Hey babe. Are you ready to leave?”

Hiro’s now standing at the side of the table, sweat dripping down the side of his face, as he gestures for you to stand up. And now it’s even more embarrassing, because Gojo looks way too excited to be meeting Hiro right now.

“I’m not sure we’ve met. I’m Satoru Gojo.”

“Hiro. I’m dating Y/N.”

Satoru looks over, smirking at you, before he leans back - and sends your head into a tizzy in the process because who the hell looks attractive smirking like that.

“Congratulations. You must be really happy together. Life changing.” he says.

You can feel your cheeks burning. He’s teasing you. You just admitted all the things you would do to him out loud, about how one night with him would change your life, and not only did he hear but now he’s sticking it to your boyfriend too.

You push past him in the booth, give Shoko and Nanami a halfhearted smile, before you drag Hiro out of the bar with you.

You sit against the pavement, bumping knees with Itadori, as you both eye the empty parking lot in front of you.

“I’m really sorry. My grandpa should actually be here any minute.”

You look over at him, his pink hair tousled messily and the way he’s nervously fidgeting with the strings of his yellow hoodie. You give him a smile, knowing all too well the embarrassment of being the last kid picked up from school. Patiently waiting for someone to remember to pick you up.

“Are you enjoying the third grade, Itadori?”

“Yeah. I made a few friends recently which is nice.”

“That’s always fun, kid. I’m glad you’re situating okay. Do you like the area?”

“I kind of miss my old house. But it’s nice to spend time with my grandpa.”

You feel your heart ache as you remember the little file they sent over, the written note from your principal pressed on top. That his parents passed away just before the start of the school year and his grandfather, one of his only living family members, wasn’t doing too well either.

“Do you like your teacher?”

He looks over, a shy smile on his face.

“She’s okay.”

You smile, reaching forward to mess with her hair.

“Just okay? I think I’m pretty cool.”

“Eh.”

You reach into your pocket for the lollipop you swiped from your stash and hold it out in front of him. You watch his face light up, his excited little hands ripping the paper off.

“Am I cool yet, Itadori?”

“Freezing.”

You smile, giving his shoulder a squeeze as a black car pulls up, stopping right in front of you. And out comes Satoru Gojo, in all his beauty, and one of your other students, Megumi Fushiguro.

Megumi runs straight up to Itadori, holding out his hand, as he starts dragging him to the car. You stand up, awkwardly brushing your palms against your pencil skirt as Satoru walks up to you, a smirk on his face.

And what the fuck is he doing here?

“Hi.”

“Hello. Are you here to pick up Itadori?”

“Sure am, pretty girl. Have a note from his grandpa, he’s not really feeling well.”

You nod, ignoring the tingle in your hands as he brushes his fingers against yours to hand you the note. You pretend to read the note as you try to calm your breaths and look back up at him.

Ocean blue eyes, staring into yours.

“Perfect. Well, you’re good to go.”

Satoru gives you a look before bending down to Itadori and Megumi’s heights, giving them the keys to the car and full access to playing with his stereo system. They both excitedly run into the car, leaving you and Satoru outside the school.

“Are you not leaving?”

“I thought we could chat for a bit.”

You clench your fists as he takes Itadori’s seat on the pavement and gestures for you to sit next to him. You both eye Megumi and Itadori in the car, the two of them now sticking their faces too close to the air conditioning vents and manically laughing at how poofed up their hair is getting.

“How are you?”

“Satoru Gojo. Are you really making me sit here on the pavement to ask me how I am?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Well. I already know a lot about you. Your name, your occupation, how you feel about me. I feel like we skipped a few steps so we should backtrack. I didn’t even know you were my kids' teacher till about three seconds ago.” he says, smirking over at you.

“Excuse me. How I feel about you?”

“Oh, you know. On the table, in the bathroom, on the kitchen counter.” he responds, his voice all sing-songy.

“Isn’t your wife waiting for you at home?”

You can feel the jealousy seething in you already, because you know his answer. Because there is no universe where this man does not have a girlfriend already. The best ones are already taken. He leans closer, pinching your cheek in response.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I think the whole my kid’s elementary school teacher cheating affair is cliche, Satoru. Dare I say, even more cliche than the nanny.”

“But not as cliche as the secretary.”

“Oh, of course not. That’s the holy grail of cliche cheating affairs.”

He laughs, leaning back on his forearms as you both fall into the silence. Stupid, fucking gorgeous funny charismatic looking-

“No wife for me fortunately. Or girlfriend either.”

That’s somehow worse. Because if he had a girlfriend, you could be jealous of her. Put her face on a cardboard box and kick it off a cliff. But he’s single. And now he’s just something you want but can’t have. Entirely attainable but not in your reach.

Also known as, frustrating as hell.

“Shame. I’m sure girls are lining up at the door to experience the joys of dating you.”

“And you’re first in line, sweetheart.”

You feel your cheeks burn as he stands up, the tension so unbearable you can feel it eating at you alive. He holds his hand out, that little tingle running through you again, as he helps you up, now dragging Megumi and Itadori out of the front seats. You give the three of them a smile, your blood burning, as they drive away.

He sends you a gift the next day. A donation of classroom supplies you had been egregiously emailing all the parents about and a handwritten note.

the start of a cliche <3 - satoru

You try to wipe the smile off your face. The fluttering in your chest. The presence of him in your dreams and in your mind at all times.

Suddenly, you’re seventeen again and you remember the biggest woes of your teenage life.

The ups and downs of having a crush on someone.

You clench the bowl of pudding in your hands as you ring the doorbell, which sprouts a large amount of commotion and noise behind the door. You give your hair one last pat down, after fretting over it for six hours in the mirror, as the door swings open.

You’re met with Satoru Gojo and a pink apron hanging around his neck.

“Nice outfit, Gojo. Can I try it on sometime?”

“I’ll take it off and give you a show right now, sweetheart.”

You feel your cheeks blazing as he drags you in, his warm hands taking the bowl from yours. You can hear thumping upstairs, which you’re sure is Megumi, Itadori, and Kugisaki making a mess of Gojo’s apartment.

You follow him to the kitchen, taking a quick moment to totally check him out, before you make it to his mess of a birthday cake.

“There’s no way you’re going to actually give them that, are you?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s homemade. It has that Satoru charm.”

“More like a stinky charm. What is that smell?”

“The dishes. I need to do them because they’re kind of sticking to the pans. From this downright radioactive cake I just made.”

You shoo him away, taking on the duty of properly making something out of the ruins of the "cake" Satoru had spread on his counter. From your vantage point, he has his back turned to you, which gives you full permission to ogle him once again.

You realize that this is creepy. That no part of this is romantic and that he only invited you to Itadori’s little birthday party because you’re one of five people he actually knows in this city. But god is your heart beaming at the fact that the two of you are like this, together and alone.

You’re mixing the frosting, a perfect light pink to match Itadori’s hair, and all you can think about is how good Satoru looks in a kitchen. In that run down t-shirt and sweatpants. Being all domestic.

The way his arms look when he’s washing the dishes, how he looks when he puts things back into the fridge - his arm flexed against the handle. How reaching for the top cupboards makes the end of his shirt lift a little and you can see that muscled skin on his back.

“I’m sure that the frosting is mixed by now. You’ve been going really hard at it.”

You feel your face burn as you fill the piping bag, entirely embarrassed that he caught you staring. He makes his way over as you fill up the bags, the two of you frosting the entire sides of the cake together. At the end, you and Satoru take turns frosting the letters - the happy birthday in Satoru’s messy block printing and the itadori in your swirly cursive.

He gives you a smile and it makes your heart all lopsided as he walks away. He goes toward the stairs, gesturing for all three of them to come down.

You hear three pounding footsteps and then are bombarded with all three of them hugging you, pleasantly surprised at your arrival.

“Are you here for my birthday?”

“I sure am, birthday boy. I even brought you a gift, Itadori.” you respond, pinching his little cheek.

He leans into your touch, giving you a hard hug before he lets go to run towards the kitchen. Gojo’s too busy strapping little birthday hats onto Nobara and Megumi's head as the two of you walk in, Satoru you a gleaming smile as he carries the last two hats over to you.

“Purple or blue? Your pick, milady.”

You point at the blue party hat which Gojo smiles at, before he lifts his hands to your face and secures the hat around your head. Some part of your hair gets tangled with the string, which Gojo fixes with the swiftness of his hands, immediately securing your hair back behind your ear.

You could die happy then and there.

He gives you a smile before turning back to Itadori - tickling him and screaming singing happy birthday into his ears, making the kid laugh so hard he’s crying out of his eyes.

And you hate Satoru for inviting you. Surely he must know that something like this would only make you like him more.

You turn your neck, just at the slightest angle, to get sight of him in your periphery. Keeping an eye on him is the only way to keep him at arm's length. And you’ve successfully avoided him three times now.

More dressed down than the past few times you’ve seen him, Satoru is wearing a run down t-shirt and five inch inseam shorts - and he’s very excitedly chatting up Utahime and Nanami. You may be seeing things, but you swear he inches closer every time you move, the majority of his frame always turned to whichever direction you're standing in.

Shoko starts poking your cheek aggressively to catch your attention, her face a few feet away from yours.

“You know if you look from the side, it’s still considered staring.” she says.

“Shut up. You’re acting like you weren’t staring either, Shoko.”

“Staring at who?”

You turn around to find the person attached to the voice and immediately walk away. Of course it was fucking Gojo.

Even the sound of his voice is enough to make your heart race, like you're a six year old girl meeting your crush on the swings. You immediately race to Shoko’s bedroom, for a few seconds to calm yourself down. Sober up before you say something embarrassing again.

When you make it to her room, you haphazardly shut the door behind you and fall face first into Shoko’s bed. You can still smell the laundry on her sheets, perfectly starched and fitted to perfection. You yank your phone out from your back pocket, quickly sliding through emails and making mental notes for your to-do list tomorrow to distract yourself.

You hear the door open and close behind you, the tiny lock clicking against the frame. You turn around to find Satoru standing before you, his hands crossed against his chest.

“Why do you hate me?”

You frown, taken aback by his question.

“What?”

“Why do you hate me, Y/N? I’ve made every effort to be your friend, to be your anything and you keep ignoring me.”

“When the hell did I ignore you?”

“I’ve been trying to talk to you all night. Every time I walk up to a group you’re standing in, you walk away.”

“That’s not intentional, I-”

“I sent you everything on your wishlist for your classroom. For your students, because you wanted it really badly.”

“And I appreciate that, I really do and-”

“You didn’t even stop by to thank me. I’ve been picking up Megumi everyday waiting for you to come out.”

“Thank you. Really, it’s made such a big difference and I’ve-”

“Why don't you want to be friends with me?”

You can feel the anger, the tension, the goddamn jumbled mess of feelings this idiot makes you feel bubbling out of your mouth as you start screaming at him, at the goddamn idiocy falling out of his mouth right now.

“That's just the fucking problem. I don't want to be friends with you because I want to be more. You should take it as a compliment that I went out of my way to talk to everyone here but you. That I like you so much that I can’t stand to even be near you without telling you.”

You can see the shock spread across his face as you keep rambling, the words stringing out of your mouth.

“I don’t not talk to you on purpose. But every time I look at you, I can’t say anything to your face. You-you’re just-”

“Just what?”

“You make me so happy it’s ridiculous. You could smile at me and I’d be on the floor, giggling in my bed like I’m a twelve year old. You’re- your banter leaves me blushing, your smile makes my heart beat so fast, and you make me so happy that it makes me sad I can’t have you. I’ve embarrassed myself in front of you for the literal second time now so can I please just leave before you humiliate me some more?"

You can feel your chest heaving, a very wide eyed Gojo staring back at you with a smile on his face. You make your move to run past him, to literally avoid this guy for the rest of your life, but he grabs onto your wrist, pulling you back so you’re leaning into his chest.

"Leave me alone. I'll probably just go die alone at home with my cats now."

“It's my turn to talk now.” he says, his voice low.

“What?”

“It's my turn to talk. You’ve gotten to ramble about how you feel twice and you have yet to let me do it even once.” he deadpans, cupping your face in the side of his hand.

You nod, your cheek searing from his warm hand on your skin.

“You think I’m gorgeous. But I think you’re irresistible.”

“Huh?”

“You. are. irresistible. Every time I see you, every time I even hear about you, it makes my heart bloom in my chest. Remember that smiley face you put in the email about Megumi’s grades? I literally had to bite down on my hand to avoid fucking screaming about the entire thing. That one time you smiled at me from across the hall when I went to pick Tsumiki up from her class? I was on the fucking floor.”

He brings his other hand up, securing it around your neck to angle your face up. His eyes are burning with something you can’t place and it’s making your stomach swarm with an array of butterflies.

“And the first night I met you. Your little grumpy face with your hands curled around two bottles of beer. Giggling with Shoko and Nanami, laughing so hard you were crying. You are so, so goddamn cute, so fucking beautiful that I just had to walk over. To have your eyes looking in mine, even if it was just once.”

He leans down, pressing his lips against yours, as you nearly melt into his arms, losing the agency you had over your footing. He must sense it because he immediately brings his hands down, lifting you up from your waist so you’re even closer to his mouth, his lips deepening the kiss. He breaks apart, whispering against your mouth.

“I’d like to meet your cats.”

“What cats?”

“You literally just said you were going to do die at home alone with your cats."

"Oh. Right. I live alone, that was kind of just an expression."

"S'okay. You've always had a flair for the dramatics."

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

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t-nd-rfoot · 2 years ago

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Anna?? Would you be ok doing either Bob Floyd or Rhett Abbott for the Valentine's Day asks? I have an idea in mind but I'm not sure if you'd wanna do it or not.

Either character being married to their beloved wifey!reader having a couple of boys in the family and finally having their first baby girl on Valentine's Day??

If you want me to do anything for you, I can, my inbox hit a bad dry spell again.

FOREVER VALENTINE aka It's A Girl!

The cutest presents come wrapped in pretty pink bows.

Pairing Rhett Abbott x female!reader

Theme fluff fluff fluff! Plus a drop of angst (it's Rhett)

Warnings childbirth (nothing graphic)

Word Count 667

Note this actually made me realize I miss writing about Rhett!!! And ugh this was such a cute idea, thank you so much for requesting it, love! I hope you enjoy it 💗

Peaceful silence filled the room, a stark contrast from the maddening chaos that ensued just mere minutes ago.

On your bed, Rhett’s arm was wrapped gently around your shoulder as you cradled your newborn daughter.

Daughter.

Rhett never thought he’d ever be a father to a little girl—no one did, really, considering his previous reputation. A reputation he worked hard to grow from and buried the moment he laid his eyes on you. It was safe to say he was more than successful in doing so, considering the three older boys you had together in twelve years of marriage (and counting).

There were a lot of things Rhett never believed in prior to you, one of them being karma. He never had a real reason to. Life’s a bull, he used to say, you can take it by the reins all you want and it can still find a million ways to fuck you up. He certainly didn’t understand what good he did in his life to deserve you, or what supernatural forces conspired to make that happen, though Cecelia called it an answered prayer. But right now, as he felt the tiniest fingers he ever felt hold on to one of his own, he knew that every wrong turn he made led him to this right one. The one—well, fifth one—he promises to do right by till his last breath.

“She’s beautiful,” you whispered as you began to stir from your brief rest.

“More than,” he agreed. “Oh, you’re gonna give me so much trouble, baby girl. So, so much,” his voice was soft and low as he spoke to the baby, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. “Lucky for you, your momma’s smart enough to sniff out the danger. And bossy enough to tell me what to do when it comes.”

You scoffed playfully at his comment, but he made up for it quickly with a firm kiss to your temple. “And lucky for you, baby,” you continued, “your daddy’s smart enough to listen.”

“But you don’t gotta worry about that just yet,” he mused, “they gotta get through your brothers first before they deal with me. Ryder’s the gentle one, but he can be real tough when protecting someone.”

Your heart tugged at the mention of your sons. “Emmett can be rowdy, but he’d never hurt a fly. And Callum’s so excited to play with you, he already put some of his toys out.”

“Don’t forget about your cousin Amy,” you pointed out.

“Oh no, we can’t, can we? Lord knows she waited a long time for another girl in the family,” he laughed.

As your daughter stirred in your arms, her little hand still wrapped around Rhett’s finger, a soft smile graced her lips. It was brief, but it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

“I miss them,” you sighed, wanting nothing more than for your boys to meet their baby sister.

Rhett pressed his lips to your head once again as he reached for his phone. “I’ll call Ma to let ‘em know they can come home.”

As he walked to his charging phone at your dresser, you adjusted your baby’s swaddle to make sure she was secure.

“You got me beat, darlin’,” Rhett mused as he made his way back to you.

“What do you mean, Abbott?” you raised your eyebrow playfully.

He wrapped his arm around you again like he did before, “I think our baby girl might be the best gift you’ve ever given me. I don’t know how I can top that.”

“You being here was more than enough,” you laughed softly, as you baby wriggled once again. Rhett took her in his free arm and kissed her head, while you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Happy first Valentine’s, baby girl. I’m always gonna love you.”

Tag List @roostersrooster @rosesvioletshardy @bonitanightmxres @avaleineandafryingpan @bradshawseresinbabe @hangmanbrainrot @babyonboardfloyd @demxters @footprintsinthesxnd

Add yourself to my tag list!

Disclaimer I do not own Outer Range or any of its characters. Please do not copy my work or translate without my permission.

Edit Added title (Apr 1 2023)

#outer range #outer range fanfiction #outer range fanfic #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott headcanons #lewis pullman

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saetoru · 3 years ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐒 | 𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐈 “𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐙𝐔” 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐎.

you should be asleep, and more importantly, haruchiyo has a meeting early in the morning. you know he might wake up, but that doesn’t stop your tossing and turning, and it certainly doesn’t stop you from reaching over and cupping his face. your eyes rake over his features, and they land on the identical scars on either side of his lips—and as if on instinct, your thumb traces over one.

“do you have any idea what time it is?” he grumbles, but still, he leans into your palm, chasing your gentle touch like a cat does the sunlight. you hum, tilting your head up and leaving a fleeting peck to his lips, and a ghost of a frown tugs at the corners.

it’s never enough, and haruchiyo always needs more, though he won’t admit it.

“i know, i’m sorry,” you whisper. his eyes are still closed, so your thumb wanders over the slants of his face, exploring his skin until it’s reached his eyes. you trace over the closed lids, and his lips twitch to a smile that he fights back.

“gotta wake up early, you know,” he says quietly.

“i couldn’t sleep, haru,” you pout. his lids finally open, and the flutter of his long lashes makes your heart skip a beat. you stare, and he rolls his eyes.

pretty. it’s what you always call haruchiyo, and it’s a sentiment he always rolls his eyes to, looking away when you whisper the words to him. you don’t know why he wouldn’t believe you, or why he would see himself as anything but that, but to you, he’s always been pretty.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he mumbles, pulling you closer against his bare chest. you leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, and this time, he finally does smile.

and haruchiyo’s got a perfect smile—at least, when it’s not crazed and psychotic like it always is. you get to see a different smile, one that’s gentle and toothy—almost like it’s fragile. it’s almost like if the wind blows just the slightest bit too hard, it’ll wipe off his face completely and forever. he only ever smiles that smile around you, and you drink in the sight like you’ll never see it again each time.

“nothing,” you hum, carding your fingers though the messy pink strands, “just thinking.” his locks have escaped the loose ponytail he’s pulled them into, and you sweep them away from his face, brushing your nose against his in the process.

everything you do is careful, calculating, and haruchiyo wonders if love has always been like that. he’s not sure if you’re just different, or he’s just been unlucky all this time, but whatever it is, it makes his arm curl around you a little tighter and his head lean into yours a little closer. and as if sensing his thoughts, you lean in and kiss his lips longer this time, deep and passionate and sweet. he savors the taste of your tongue against his, and even if he should be asleep, he’s glad he’s awake.

“thinking about what?” he chuckles as he pulls away, poking your forehead affectionately. haruchiyo doesn’t know how to do affection, but he tries through little touches and short moments he drags out for a bit longer, promising you in his own way that even if it’s not always seen, it’s always present.

his love is always present, and even the tiniest drips of water can form tidal waves with enough time.

you ponder for a moment if you should ask or not. if he wanted, he’d have told you, you think. but then again, he’s not ever been one to reach out first, though his arms are always waiting.

“your scars,” you start hesitantly, “you never told me how you got them.”

it’s silent. for a moment, you think you’ve said the wrong thing at the wrong time. it’s too soon, perhaps, and you’re almost scared his arms will pull away, never to await for you again.

but they don’t. in fact, they only tighten around your body.

“it’s a long story, baby,” he says finally.

“i’ve got time,” you insist, running your thumb over the diamond shaped indents across his skin. and with a touch so gentle, haruchiyo has no choice but to believe you really do think he’s pretty—even if he’s flawed. and even if he can’t see past the imperfections himself, he trusts that you do—because love with you is gentle, a soft and sweet promise that he knows you’ll keep.

the droplets seep through his touch as his hand rubs over your back slowly, and the soft peck against your forehead sends a tidal wave to your heart.

“i know you do,” he chuckles, “but i’ve got to be up early. maybe some other time,” he mumbles. he stills when your hands reach to cup either side of his face, tilting his head down before there’s a soft peck—and then another—to each mark on his face.

haruchiyo has never understood how a lingering touch of your lips to his skin could sear love into every inch they press against, but they do. they do endlessly, and even if time stills, even if it goes backwards, even if it ends, the lingering feeling of your love will always be engraved, forever a part of him.

he thinks they balance out the scars, and he doesn’t think he minds them as much. not if you’re here.

“okay. i love you, you know,” you yawn, tucking your head under his chin. and this time, it’s his turn for his lips to sear into your skin, and it’s always back and forth, a never ending cycle of one’s touch healing the other.

“i know you do, baby,” he murmurs, “i know.” and even if he can’t say it yet, you know he loves you just as deeply, if not more.

a little post about baby’s scars because the recent chapter leaks made me so sad :(

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hunterthecharmer · 2 years ago

Text

Wait Up For Me

**This was inspired by Brett Eldredge’s song off of his new album. Give it a listen for all of the warm & fuzzies. Plus, Brett’s voice is magic. Makes you…feel things.**

It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d seen Austin, as he was currently touring different cities to celebrate and promote the release of the Elvis movie. Obviously you had tagged along for many of the stops, but 3 premieres in you caught a bit of a stomach bug and decided it’d be best to stay behind to rest.

Austin insisted on hiding you away in an old cabin he owned, but rarely had a chance to use. It was located deep within the state of Virginia, nestled beneath bountiful pine trees.

During your stay it had snowed, but within the last few days the sun had come out to melt it all away. You had enjoyed making hot tea each day, allowing your body the space and time to fully heal. Austin had made sure the fridge was stocked for you, and all around the cabin there were fuzzy blankets to curl up in.

The clock in the kitchen chimed just as it hit 10pm, stirring you from your nap. You had fallen asleep on the brown leather couch in the living room- the decor of sunsets, snowstorm parties & childhood memories lived within wooden frames along the walls. The floor had a red & beige rug with tiny bears printed onto it, and on the coffee table was a single candle along with a stack of books. The tiny flame and starry sky had put you to sleep earlier than you would have liked many nights, and just as you sat up to stretch, your phone rang. It was him.

“Hi, darling.” You half whisper, your free hand running itself through your hair to straighten it out.

“How’s my girl? Did I wake you?” You hear a slight chuckle in his question, his voice low & raspy- no doubt from a long day of travel. You look at the time. “She’s doing well. The clock actually beat you to it.” You smirk, standing from your place on the warm couch to look out the window. The long road to the cabin was covered in fog, and the stars were twinkling. “Well, I know you’re probably ready to get some sleep but, I’d love it if you could stay up a little longer. I’m comin’ to see you.”

You had heard enough- immediately tiptoeing to your room, you turn on the bathroom light and begin to brush your hair, apply a bit of perfume and pat some moisturizer into your skin to make your cheeks glow. You had been so excited to see him- it sent chills down your skin just imagining him finally here, with you. No distractions, no premieres, no press or fans, just you and your man. You imagined his lips pressed to yours, the feel of his warm hands on your skin.

Half an hour later, your eyes begin to droop. “C’mon, Aus..” you mumble, watching for his headlights out the bedroom window. Finally, you see them.

“You’re here! You’re finally here!” You shout, running to him as he grabs his suitcase from the trunk. You cannot wipe the grin on your face. He’s wearing a white t shirt, blue jeans and a leather jacket. His blonde hair is perfectly disheveled from a long drive, and his cologne is intoxicating. “Hi, baby.” He smiles into your deep kiss, dipping you slightly.

You follow him inside, carrying his backpack on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you open that first zipper there.” Austin motions toward his bag on your shoulder, and you tilt your head in confusion. “You got me a gift?” You wink at him, before looking inside to see the tiniest bouquet of flowers. “I had to get them for you. I hadn’t ever seen someone cut down the stems so short- they were adorable.” He blushes, looking from the flowers to your face for your reaction.

Feeling your eyes begin to well up, you place the bouquet on the kitchen counter and swiftly wrap your arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you so much. To think you saw these and thought of me amidst all that you’ve got going on…” you allow your train of though to fade, bringing his lips down to yours and removing his jacket. Austin follows your lead, gently placing both hands on either side of your face to more passionately kiss you just before bringing one down to your side to guide you toward the bedroom.

His warm hands glide across your back- the silk gown you’re wearing is one of his favorites.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you both fall onto the bed- Austin being sure to place one of his palms behind your head just as you lie down. He is always such a gentleman.

“Thank you for waiting up for me, baby.” He whispers into your ear, just before gently nibbling your earlobe. It sends a shiver up your spine. Feeling his warm breath on you, you place a hand on his neck to pull him even closer. Looking into his twinkling blue eyes, you kiss his nose.

“I’d wait on you forever.”

-------

Go easy on me! I am a little rusty but let me know your thoughts :)

#austin butler #austin butler fanfiction

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skiller0dani · 4 years ago

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Broken Paradise | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut requests info wc | 9.1k summary | you run into an ex boyfriend during an interrogation. except it's you being interrogated, and it's your ex boyfriend doing the interrogating.

song

another draft just waiting to be published. really obsessing over Spencer Reid.

also there's mentions of abortion, nothing graphic it's literally just a short direct reference and nothing else.

You always hear people say your past will come back to haunt you, you just didn't know they meant literally. You leaned back against the metal chair in the interrogation room, you've been in here for what felt like hours. You couldn't complain too much seeing as it's your fault that you're in here at all. You wished they'd come in and tell you something, give you an update, say hi, say anything. You seriously underestimated how maddening silence can be. You knew little about the murders the police were investigating, something about druggie women being found mutilated. The pictures they showed you were downright horrifying, you'd need at least one solid bottle of tequila to forget the bodies of those poor women.

The Las Vegas Police Department were a bunch of judgmental pigs, the only reason they'd brought you here at all was because you were from the wrong side of the tracks. Both of your parents were users, and if you were lucky, also dead. They probably assumed you used as well, and seeing as you seemed to fit the killers physical preference the police brought you in for questioning and also for your own "safety". But really you knew they didn't give a damn about your safety, they just wanted to know where you got your shit from. No matter how many times you insisted you didn't use, they kept pushing. When one male officer started throwing your parents in your face, you stood up and promptly broke his nose. That's how you landed yourself cuffed to the table, tightly.

"Oh thank you so much for gracing me with your presence once more." You smiled sarcastically as another officer walked in, wait he's definitely not an officer. The man who entered the room had cleanly cut dark hair, and wore an expensive looking black suit. Not the run of the mill beat cop that you were expecting. You bit back any other fiery remarks, if you wanted to get the hell out of here you needed to cooperate. Diana would be expecting you, not that you were itching to see her but after letter number 75 of her begging you to swing by- well lets just say that Spencer's mother was never the problem. You doubt Spencer even knew Diana was contacting you, which was good. You wanted nothing at all to do with him.

"I'm Agent Hotchner here with the FBI I need to ask you a few questions." This man was all business, you seriously had to fight the urge to fuck with him a little bit.

"I'd shake your hand but..." Your eyes flickered towards the table, where the police officer who's nose you broke had very tightly handcuffed you. In fact he cuffed you so tightly that your wrists were already raw and bleeding a bit.

"They wouldn't have handcuffed you if you didn't punch an officer. Did he hit a nerve?" The Agent's face was level, and gave nothing away as to what he was thinking. You tongued the inside of your cheek, your foot tapping quickly on the concrete floor. These assholes were really starting to piss you off.

"He was being a dick, how many times do I have to tell you guys that I don't use? Are your heads filled with sawdust?" You snapped roughly, yanking away from him to lean back in your chair despite the biting pain in your wrists.

"That's not why I'm here Miss Y/L/N." Agent Hotchner said, his voice even and his eyes on you. The way he was looking at you made you feel exposed, like he could read all of your secrets because of the way your eye twitches when you're nervous. You hate these damn FBI profilers- wait.

"How's Spencer?" It's a shot in the dark, a very long shot in a very dark tunnel. Before the scumbag left you without warning, Spencer mentioned that someone was trying to recruit him for the BAU department of the FBI. The profilers. Spencer left and never came back, two guesses as to where he went. Your eyes locked onto the Agent's in front of you, and from the slight upturn at the corner of his brow you knew you got him. Spencer is here.

"You know Dr. Reid?"

"So he's a Doctor now, doesn't surprise me. Let me guess, he has PHD's and Doctorates in Math, Chemistry and something to do with Geography right?" You say as casually as you can and you can only hope this man is wondering how you happen to know so much about one of his Agents.

"Unless I'm speaking to Spencer Reid, I want my lawyer." You snap, leaning back. You know Spencer won't talk to you, and unless they have physical proof you're guilty of something they'll have to let you go.

Check mate.

Spencer couldn't ignore the questioning glances from his fellow teammates even if he'd wanted to. He watched you lean back in your chair from the other side of the one way glass, what are the chances that you are wrapped up in this case? You of all young petite blonde women in the metro area. The world was fucking with him, it had to be.

"She a friend of yours?" Derek's voice was the first to cut through the silence.

"No." One word answers were the safest route, the shortest diction would give little time for them to draw information out of the way Spencer was speaking. There was a tremble in his tone, he knew there was. Spencer prided himself for having little to no baggage behind him, but of all unopened suitcases- his previous relationship with you was the largest one.

"Really? Cause she seems to know a lot about you." Derek said, his eyes fixed on Spencer. The tension in the room was palpable, and suddenly it felt hard for Spencer to breathe let alone compose himself. After shoving free from the small viewing room, Spencer found it a lot easier to exist without the scrutinizing gazes of his coworkers.

"You hear her?" It was Hotch, with a patiently guarded expression on his face. Spencer and drugs wasn't an uncommon problem, although in the past his poison of choice was dilaudid. Now there's a string of drug related murders and a possible junky who seems to know a lot about him.

"Yeah, from before the Bureau." Spencer clarified quickly, and Hotch honestly looked the tiniest bit relieved.

"Think you could talk to her, she's made it obvious she won't talk to any of us." Hotch said, and from the tension building in Spencer's shoulders he can tell there's some bad blood between the two of you. Spencer took a deep breath before taking all of those unresolved emotions and forcefully shoving them down. Deep, deep down. It's time to do a job, there's a missing woman who needs to be saved.

When that door opened again, you thought you'd won. You thought they were coming to begrudgingly release you. Instead you were met by the big doey eyes of Spencer Reid, your first and last love. All the air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, the memories flood back and you can't stop them. The anger rises then, this is the first time you've seen him since he left you. The one person you trusted not to leave you did, he left like everyone leaves you. Like your parents left you. He's very clearly all business, his face hardly giving anything away as he swiftly reached down to unlock the handcuffs around your wrists. If you wanted to walk away from this without your heart getting broken you needed the upper hand.

"Heya baby." You smiled, you hoped that maybe it would disarm him. At least a little, but when you looked at him all you saw was a stoic and focused expression. Nothing? Really?

"I need to ask you a few questions Miss Y/L/N." Spencer's voice was controlled, even in tone. His voice... God his voice could bring you right to tears. You could still hear him saying how much he loved you with that stupidly angelic voice of his. Spencer was very quickly taking control of the situation and you did not like that at all.

"You know you can ask me anything, there's no secrets between us right Spence?" You leaned forward on your elbows, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in your wrists. One of Spencer's biggest giveaways is eye contact, when he's upset or feels guilty he'll avoid looking into your eyes. You turn your gaze up to meet his, but once again you're completely disarmed to see him unabashedly looking into your eyes like it isn't a problem at all. Either Spencer has amnesia and forgot who you were, or what happened between you two doesn't hurt him like it hurts you. You refuse to believe it's the latter, he just forgot. Definitely forgot. Somehow he must have forgot.

"Nina Fredricks, have you ever seen her?" He slid a photo in front of you, you recognize her as the woman who was most recently kidnapped. Most recently being 12 hours ago so chances of her still being alive are unfortunately slim. You nibble on your lower lip, come to think of it you actually might have seen her.

"Yeah, saw her at Winchell's, little coffee shop on the corner of 5th? You remember right Spence? You used take me there all the time, I loved giving you head under the table." You smirk, but it quickly falters. Whatever training he went through must have stripped him of all emotion and turned him into a machine. Built only to solve cases and do nothing else. That wasn't the case however, you just didn't know how good Spencer is at compartmentalizing his emotions. He could only imagine the looks on his coworkers faces upon hearing you say that, at least he can just say you were lying to try and illicit some sort of reaction from him. They don't have to know that you totally used to slip under the table and swallow his cock in a diner full of people. They don't know about that side of him, and Spencer doesn't plan on changing that.

"When?" He presses on with the interview, and surprisingly you're forthcoming with information when you're speaking to Spencer. Even after all this time, he has this annoying power over you. This innate ability to get you to do whatever he wants you to, although you would prefer him to use this special ability in the bedroom. No! No you have to eradicate thoughts like that, Spencer hurt you worse then anyone else ever has. He hurt you worse because he made you think he was going to stay, and then he didn't.

"Few nights ago, she looked really messed up though. Winchell threw her out, definitely doped up on something. Before you ask, no I didn't see where she went." You sigh, finally giving up flashing Spencer the all too familiar 'you win' look. Usually a victorious grin stretches across his face, but not this time. Those times are over.

"Did you see anybody with her?" You're not entirely surprised that Spencer isn't writing any of this down, that stupid eidetic memory. You're fooling yourself if you think he forgot what happened, Spencer never forgets anything. Ever.

"Every detail matters."

You genuinely try to remember if anybody was with Nina, and while you didn't see anyone you remember shortly after she left the diner there was this horrible screeching sound. "After Nina left I heard what sounded like tires screeching on the street. Never saw a car though."

"Thank you Miss Y/L/N, is there anything else you can remember about that night? Anything that sticks out?" After a few moments of quiet contemplation, you shake your head.

"Am I free to go?" You ask quietly and Spencer shakes his head.

"Unfortunately we're going to have to keep you in protective custody. We'll move you to a more comfortable room, but you'll need to stay in the precinct."

"But why? I'm not a drug addict-"

"You are exactly this killers type, and we don't know if looking a certain way is more important or if being a drug addict is when it comes to him choosing his victims." Spencer explains simply, his mouth moving a mile a minute as he stands. When he turns his eyes back on you, you realize he's waiting for you to follow him. You stand and follow him out of the cold interrogation room to a comfier waiting room. It has a table and chairs, vending machine and a big plush couch.

"You can stay in here, we'll let you know when it's safe to go home." Spencer says, and this is when you finally catch the crack in his façade. His eyes flicker away from yours, trying to disguise the waver in his voice, the desperation to vacate the room as quickly as he can. But now that you've seen him break, even a little, you're going to crack him wide open. You won't let it go that easily.

"Spencer?" Your voice is soft, with an innocent drawl that Spencer can't resist. He turns his head to look at you, swallowing thickly when his eyes meet yours.

"You do remember me don't you? Once upon a time we were in love." You see the rest of his coworkers trying and failing to look like they're not listening. But it's not like you care if they do, Spencer will though but luckily his back is to the door. After a few moments of tense silence, he finally speaks.

"Of course." It's not the answer you were hoping for but it's an admission, which is more then you were getting earlier.

"Do you miss me Spencer? Miss me in bed next to you?"

"W-Well I-"

"Do you miss when I used to cook your favorite dinner every night when you came over? Do you miss how I loved you unconditionally?" Your voice was steadily growing more hostile, and you knew there were tears building in your eyes. This has all been building up for so long you know you can't stop it now.

"Y/N-"

"Do you miss being able to fuck me whenever the hell you want? Is that what you miss the most Spencer? You must not miss me that much because when you left I didn't even get a fucking call! You didn't even say goodbye, you just left!" You were yelling now, with tears streaming down your face. Spencer had slyly shut the door by now, he knew this was going to happen the second he saw you. He wished he could help you understand why he had to leave the way he did. He was trying to protect you, and he still firmly believes he's protecting you. Look what happened to Haley, what happened to Maeve. Spencer loved Maeve and he lost her like Hotch lost Haley, and Spencer can't lose you. Not you. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if something happened to you.

"Please try to understand-" You never even let him get close to finishing his thought.

"Understand what? Leaving me? You said you loved me! How could you love me and then leave me alone? While I was pregnant!" Your hands flew to your mouth, you honestly never planned on telling him that. Spencer's eyebrows rose high in the air, and you can tell you just knocked the wind out of him. Spencer's hand reached back for the door handle, "pregnant?"

"Spencer I'm sorry I didn't mean to tell you that way." You tried to explain, and despite the fact that he'd abandoned you, you were dead terrified of him leaving again now that he was stood in front of you.

"Do I have a child you never told me about?" His voice is shaky, afraid. Now you can see all his coworkers heavily invested in your conversation.

"N-No, I...I got rid of it." You said softly, watching the mix of emotions swirl across his face. When his trembling palm curls around the door handle you launch forward to grab at his arm.

"I'm sorry, please don't leave. Not again-" But he's pulling his arm free from yours and turning out of the room, nearly slamming the door behind him.

Spencer ignored the questions, he ignored the looks. His legs gave out somewhere near one of the couches. He stared ahead numbly, trying to make sense of what you'd just told him. Trying to somehow wrap his head around the terror of you being pregnant and then the grief of the lost possibility all at the same time. By now, JJ and Rossi had shooed everyone away from Spencer. Which he was immensely grateful for, the only thing he wanted now was to be alone. Completely and entirely alone.

Pregnant.

The word kept replaying like a scratched record, screeching in his ears every time he closed his eyes. Spencer pressed the balls of his palms into his eyes when he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him. Whoever it was, he already wished they would go away.

"Damn Kid, I didn't expect you to date such a spitfire." Derek joked as he sat down, doing what he can to ease the tension. Spencer didn't even bother looking up at him, his head stubbornly lowered and his gaze locked on the ground. Derek racked his brain for something adequate to say, but what was there to say? How could Derek find a way to make this right? Spencer just found out you were pregnant with his child and that you'd got an abortion all in the same 10 seconds. It was a lot to process.

"You gotta talk to her Spence." Derek's voice was less humorous this time. Spencer wrung his hands nervously, his eyes finally lifting to meet Derek's. A sharp shake of his head and a flash of the tears in his eyes and Spencer stands, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands. Time to get back to work. Someone has to talk to you, Derek can't stand of someone crying by themselves like that.

"It's not really my place-" JJ tried to argue as Derek stood in front of her.

"Someone needs to talk to her, and Spencer isn't going to." Derek said, rubbing a hand down his face as his eyes flickered back to Spencer. Who was currently throwing himself headfirst into the geographic profile of the killer they're looking for, because maybe if he works hard enough the rest of the entire world will just disappear. Maybe if Spencer keeps working and does nothing else you'll just vanish from that room and he won't have to deal with this. It's not that Spencer wants you to go away, the opposite actually but there isn't room in his life for you anymore. It's not safe. Spencer would rather be alone for the rest of his life then put you in danger because he's lonely and misses you.

"Alright, fine. But only for Spence." JJ says, jabbing a finger in Derek's direction before reluctantly heading towards the room you're in. She glances back at Spencer, who has become consumed by the map in front of him. JJ can always tell when something is bothering him, he has physical giveaways. The way his shoulders are rigid as he scribbles something on the whiteboard, the furrow in his brow that lets her know that while he's working on something, his mind is elsewhere. The tremble in his palm from trying so hard to hold everything back, everything he doesn't want anyone else to see. To someone that doesn't know Spencer, he looks perfectly composed, his attention and focus completely on his work. JJ knows him well enough to know that his mind, and heart are sitting tattered in this waiting room on the couch next to you.

JJ creaks the door open, flashing you a smile that makes you absolutely hate her guts. Spencer probably has some puppy love crush on her, she's beautiful. Long blonde hair, slender body, stunning smile. Everything you're not.

"Hi I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, but you can call me JJ." The way she's looking at you lets you know that she came in here to try and understand. You're not in the mood to talk to her or anybody else in this stupid building except for Spencer. You want to hate him so bad but you can't. You can't because of how much you fucking love him. The bastard.

"Look I know you're probably not all that excited to talk to me-"

"I want Spencer." You snap, and by the look on her face you can tell she isn't surprised that you said that. JJ chewed on the inside of her cheek, how does she say that Spencer doesn't actually want to talk to you?

"Dr. Reid is needed elsewhere right now, but I'm willing to talk if you need to."

"You don't have to lie Agent Jareau. I know he doesn't want to see me, he's doing that thing where he pretends to work on something while secretly obsessing over something else." You say casually, and the fact that you can pick Spencer apart so easily is somewhat off-putting to JJ. But that could be her unrequited crush on him shining through, deep down JJ doesn't like that some other woman knows Spencer better then she does. While you'd love to sit here and wallow in your misery, a much worse idea strikes you then. If you can't talk to Spencer why not fuck with the woman who's clearly in love with him.

"And the little twitch in his fingers, the slight clench in his jaw. See that? He keeps rolling his shoulders back," while everything you were saying isn't a lie- it's guaranteed to annoy her. JJ stayed quiet, she hated that she didn't know what the goddamn twitch in his fingers meant.

"He's tense, but there's more. He can't stand still, keeps shifting from foot to foot. It's driving you crazy that you don't know why he's doing that." You laugh as her annoyed eyes flash to yours for a second before settling on Spencer again.

"You're a profiler, you can't figure it out? That doesn't surprise me, you've probably never considered the fact that Spencer has an unusually high sex drive." Your words completely stun her, and JJ's cheeks flush profusely.

"It means he's horny." You say casually, leaning back against the couch. You love the blush on her cheeks, and the fact that she's clearly biting her tongue to avoid saying something rude. You love that you got under her skin, and yes you're aware that you're a bad person. Now that you've said it, JJ can't get it out of her damn head. Spencer is horny. Spencer isn't a virgin. The thought of Spencer having sex makes JJ feel a sick turning in her gut. She was happy believing Spencer was a virgin, believing that nobody has gotten to experience that side of him yet. Happy to believe that he was untouched, but apparently that was not the case. Now that the illusion has been shattered, JJ feels as though the jagged pieces of it are cutting into her, and she knows you enjoy watching her bleed.

"Trust me, I know just what to do to relieve the tension, I know how to get him off quick. Do you?" You smile as you let your eyes shamelessly drag down his slender frame.

"You're only saying this because you want to control the conversation, and you hate that I see him everyday. That I can talk to him whenever I want, about whatever I want. You wouldn't lash out if you didn't feel intimidated." JJ says calmly, rendering you just as speechless as she was moments ago. The pain that was sent stabbing into your heart caused you to recoil back from JJ, trying to hide your misty eyes from hers. You can't let her know that she's winning.

"Look, we can both get nasty all we want but that's not why I'm here. I just want to help." JJ says sincerely, but you still don't budge. JJ taps her fingers against the wood of the table, thinking about leverage she can use to get you to talk to her.

"Spencer fell in love again." JJ says finally, and this time you turn your gaze up to look at her. You push your emotions down, no matter how much it hurts to hear her say that. Who is she? Are they still together?

"If you want to know more about her, then I suggest you talk to me. An answer for an answer, fair?" You can see her trying to bait you, and damn her because it's working.

"Fine." You grumble, leaning back fully against the couch. Your eyes catch Spencer's for a second when he turns to face the table, presumably looking for a map you remember being on the right side. You point to the right side of the table and Spencer looks nothing but annoyed when he follows your direction and finds what he's looking for. He hates that he functions better as a person when you're around.

"What's the deal with you and Spence?" JJ asks, and there is a lot to unpack with that question.

"Gonna have to be more specific." You say with a shrug, your eyes hesitantly meeting hers.

"How long were you two together?"

"2 years 8 months." You answer without pausing, causing her eyebrows to raise. JJ didn't expect you to remember down to the month, it's been years since you and Spencer were together. That's not a short fling like JJ originally thought, that's a substantial amount of time.

"What's her name?" You ask, desperate to get information on this mystery woman who has stolen Spencer from you.

"Her name was Maeve." Was. You don't miss how she says was instead of is.

"Why do you hate Spencer?" JJ looked like she cared, but you know it's not you she cares about. She's in here to try and protect Spencer in some way, she's acting like you're the villain.

"I don't hate him. He abandoned me. Just packed up and left, no note, no goodbye. Haven't heard from him since." You snap, hating the amount of emotion that was in your voice. JJ's eyebrows furrow, that's just so unlike Spencer. He's not cruel, he's never been cruel but that...is cruel. You see a look flash across her face.

"Sweet boy isn't as sweet as he seems." You say softly, folding your arms over your chest.

"He must have had a good reason." JJ insists, her eyes landing on Spencer's back as he continues to map out the hunting grounds of the killer. You know he's just wasting time to avoid coming back in here. Spencer is a certifiable super genius, he finished mapping it out a while ago. He's just pretending he hasn't finished yet.

"Spence still with her? Maeve." Her name felt like poison on your tongue, and JJ slowly shook her head.

"She died in front of him, really tore him up." Your heart cracks a little bit at her words, you can't imagine how hard that must have been for him. You see JJ open her mouth to ask something else when the door opens, and a man with darker skin pokes his head in.

"JJ? Reid found him, we gotta go." As soon as he arrived, he's gone with JJ hot on his heels. She sends you a smile before she rushes out of the room, and you see Spencer following her path out. They're going to arrest a murderer who has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal.

"Spencer! Y-You can't go, it's not safe!" You blurt from the doorway, and he pauses. His eyes find yours as he holsters his pistol, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It's my job." And that's all he says before he disappears out of the precinct, leaving you once again.

You couldn't quell the anxiety turning in your gut, you're not sure how to exist while Spencer is out there hunting a murderer. You wished that you could turn off the part of your brain that's still so damn attached to him, but no matter how hard you try you can't silence your heart as it calls for him. You're not sure you could survive the constant fear of losing him if you ever ended up with him again, this life is too much for you to take. Maybe he knew that all those years ago when he left you the first time, Spencer always could see right through you. Maybe he left because he knew staying would only lead you to live a life of constant fear, maybe he was trying to protect you. Either way the reasons don't matter anymore because he left, and nothing can change how badly that hurt you.

"Does it normally take this long?" You ask a passing officer, who in turn shrugs before continuing on his path. You feel like you're going to explode or vomit, or both. It's been over 2 hours, should it be taking this long? What if he got shot? What if he's dead right now and you're sitting here with your damn thumb up your ass worrying about him like a useless housewife? Feeling useless, that's what you hate the absolute most. Knowing there's nothing you can do to stop a bullet on it's trajectory to his heart.

"Spence, are you sure you're okay?" You hear a flurry of voices and when his name graces JJ's lips you're pushing out of the room. Your eyes find him instantly, and then travel to his palm which is pressed tightly to his neck. His bleeding neck. You feel your heart rate spike, hammering like the hooves of wild horses as you move without thinking about it. Before you even understand that you've moved, you're stood in front of him. Your eyes try to scan his neck for wounds but his palm covers the location the blood is coming from.

"C'mere." You grab his wrist and yank him back towards where you saw a first aid kit earlier. Luckily your 2 and a half years of nursing school taught you how to stitch a wound and perform basic first aid. Spencer offers no resistance as you yank him to a back corner of the precinct, pushing him to sit down. You grab the first aid kit, slowly prying his hand from his neck. Your eyes mist at the wound, it's a bullet wound. Looks old though, there's scarred tissue. This had to have happened a few weeks ago at least. You see the thin line of the scar, the middle section seems to have opened up again.

"You didn't wait long enough for this to heal." You scold gently, not missing how his eyes watch you with an intensity smoldering in them. You miss the way he used to look at you, the way he's looking at you right now. You miss being the center of his whole world, you scoff. Look how easy it was for him to walk away from you. You threat a needle to stitch the center of his wound shut again, and when you look for numbing cream you discover that there isn't any.

"Spence, there isn't any- I can't find the numbing..." Your voice trails off as you begin to yank things out of the first aid kit to search for the numbing cream. Spencer's hand catches your wrist and it's only just now that you realize you're trembling.

"It's okay. I'll be fine." He settles back against the chair he's sitting in, turning his head to reveal his neck to you. You hesitate, the Spencer you remember had a very low pain threshold. All of a sudden he's expecting you to stitch him up with no numbing agent?

"Y/N, I can handle it." Spencer says again, his voice firmer than before. You swallow a lump in your throat before reaching forward to begin stitching. You press the needle against his neck, eyeing him to gauge his reaction as you puncture his skin to make the first thread. To your surprise he hardly flinches, a small quirk in his lip is the only giveaway that he's in pain. Is this the same man that got squirmy getting a shot? That would shy away from the needle? Now he's sitting here letting you stitch him up without moving a muscle, without even flinching? The more time you spend with him the more proof you get that this isn't the same Spencer that left you all those years ago.

"How did it happen?" You ask, wondering how he could have survived a gunshot to the neck. He shifts uncomfortably.

"Got shot, two inches away from hitting my jugular." Spencer says it so casually, but you're so stunned that you halt your movements for a moment.

"How many times have you been shot?" You ask, your voice hoarse. Is him getting shot a common occurrence?

"Twice. Also got shot in the leg." The casual way Spencer talks about it almost convinces you it isn't a big deal. But it is. It's a bullet ripping through his body, and it's happened to him on two separate occasions. You finish stitching and bandaging him up, your hands moving away from him as soon as you can.

"Thank God you went to nursing school or I'd be six feet under." He jokes. You know he's kidding but still, the thought of it makes you feel lightheaded.

"Don't say stuff like that." You snap softly, and you know Spencer can see the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. You hesitantly steal a glance up at him once he's stood up only to find he's already looking at you. You shy away from his intrusive gaze, and you could practically feel him probing at your mind. Reading your thoughts as if they were written down for him. You hate that he can always tell what you're thinking, you hate that it was so easy for him to read you. Like a damn book. You have to fight the urge to reach out and grab his hand, it's what you always did when you felt lost or unsure. Spencer was always there to ground you and bring your mind back out of your thoughts.

"Miss Y/L/N?" You hear JJ's voice gently interrupt you two. You shoot away from Spencer as though you were doing something scandalous. He doesn't move an inch.

"Yes!" You blurt a little too loudly, suddenly flustered being so close to him. Why does your sharp tongue always leave you when you need it?

"You're clear to go home."

"I can take her." Spencer speaks up before JJ has a chance to offer, and she knew he would. You swallow a nervous lump in your throat, your palms shaking.

The SUV has dark tint, you weren't expecting that. The second you sat back in the plush leather seat your mind flew to lewd thoughts of you leaning over the center console, Spencer's hand in your hair as he helps you take his cock in your mouth. You steal one glance at Spencer, his right hand holding the steering wheel loosely. Your cheeks heat up as you glance down between his legs, get ahold of yourself.

"The address is-"

"I remember." You knew he would. That damn eidetic memory ensured that he never forgot anything. It broke your heart a little, because some naïve part of you was hoping he remembered because it meant something to him. You hoped he remembered the way to your house because he didn't want to forget, because forgetting it meant forgetting you. But you know the reality, you know that he remembers because he has no choice but to remember. His memory is too good to allow him to forget anything, even if it was something he wanted to forget. You're grasping at straws and you know you are, holding onto that foolish notion that Spencer still held onto the memories. That he still held onto the gifts you gave him, crying softly in the night like you did sometimes.

"JJ told me about Maeve." You say softly into the silence, and you saw Spencer swallow thickly out of the corner of your eye. "I'm so sorry you lost her Spence."

"Thank you." He honestly wasn't expecting you to say that, to acknowledge the pain. Because acknowledging the pain meant that you knew he loved her. He did love her. But it was a different love then the love he feels for you. It was special, but so are you. You're special too.

"Have you...dated anyone else?" Spencer can't help but ask as he subconsciously continues the drive to your house. A drive he's committed to his memory, a drive he never wants to forget. You shift to look at him, there were a few you dated. You know when you tell Spencer about them that it'll drive him crazy.

"Tony Anderson." You say and just like you thought, Spencer groans deeply. Spencer detests Tony, they were practically mortal enemies when he still lived in Las Vegas.

"Tony? Seriously?" His tone is incredulous as his grasp on the steering wheel tightens ever so slightly.

"He was a good fuck at least." You know you shouldn't wind him up, but he hurt you for Christ's sakes. He deserves a little bit of pain too. Spencer flinches, a look of anger and something else simmering in his eyes.

"Please tell me you didn't have sex with Tony."

"Why does it matter?" You shouldn't enjoy upsetting people as much as you do. But there's still a small part of you that's convinced that Spencer deserves this.

"Because I can't live with the fact that somebody else has gotten to feel that perfect cunt of yours, let alone Tony." His crude words take you by surprise, and you can't fight the gasp that escapes your mouth.

"Well before you start digging your grave, relax. I never had sex with Tony." You decide to put him out of his misery, and you see the relief physically flood his body. You lean against the window, the next admission from you will leave the air heavier in it's wake.

"I've never slept with anyone but you Spence." You realize it's been a long time since you've seen Spencer let alone had sex with him but you could never bring yourself to sleep with someone else. It's not as though the opportunity never presented itself, you had plenty of chances to have sex with someone else. But you couldn't because there's still a stubborn part of you that doesn't want to betray Spencer.

"Really? Why?" Apparently this revelation surprised him.

"Because no matter where you go I will always belong to you." You snap without thinking, blinking tears from your eyes as you avoid his gaze. Spencer fell silent then, and you know he feels guilty. Probably because he's slept with someone else in the time since he's been with you.

"I know you have and it's fine I'm not trying to-"

"I haven't." Spencer corrects instantly, his eyes meeting yours through the darkness of the SUV. If he could see you he would see the look of utter surprise on your face. It's not as though Spencer was an overly sexually ambitious person when you dated, but you figured he probably slept with at least one person. "I haven't slept with anybody else either."

"I know someone that wants to though." You grumble without thinking, your mind drifting to JJ and the obvious crush she thinks isn't obvious. Spencer tilts his head in a way that resembles a confused puppy, you resist the urge to ruffle his hair.

"Who?"

"Agent Jareau." As soon as the name slips past the threshold of your lips, Spencer's jerks the wheel in surprise. You see a dark blush color his cheeks as his other hand reaches up to steady the wheel.

"J-Jennifer? No way! She's my best friend." You nearly laugh at his flustered state, and normally you would push it a little further but you decide to let it go. You don't want to completely destroy the way he sees her, you know you already destroyed the way she sees him.

"You have no idea what a catch you are Spencer." You tell him as you unbuckle your seatbelt, getting ready to exit the SUV. Spencer reaches over and places a warm hand on your wrist to stop you from leaving, his eyes searching yours for an answer he isn't sure you have.

"Come in?" You ask hopefully, you're not ready for him to leave again. Damnit why did he have to turn up again after so long? You were just starting to think that maybe you could move on and find someone new. You were finally starting to feel okay, and then Spencer reappears and turns your entire world upsidown all over again. Deep down you know that nobody will ever compare to Spencer Reid, and you don't want them to. You don't want anyone to be like Spencer, you want him to be his entirely own person. It's what you love the most about him, is his ability to be himself no matter where he is or who he's with. All of his little quirks, the things about himself that he doesn't notice but you do.

"Yeah." His answer comes across as an exhalation of breath, and you try to hide how excited you are. You want to hold on to any moment you can, stolen moments that you take as you please with no regret whatsoever.

"Nothing has changed." Spencer muses once you unlock the front door and push inside the darkened living room. You blush, admittedly nothing about your small townhouse has changed. It's all basically the exact same as when Spencer saw it last. You rub a hand down your arm as Spencer's eyes go wandering. Trailing over the curtains he remembers hastily pulling closed to protect your decency on more than a few occasions. His gaze then travels to the couch, all those movie nights you two spent curled up together. Or when he got you into Star Trek and you couldn't stop watching it. Pain stabs his chest for a moment, it's hard to remember everything he had to let go of to get the job he has now.

"I miss you too, you know." Spencer says off-handedly. It takes you by surprise, the sureness in his tone is jarring. He sounds so comfortable admitting when he's vulnerable, it's never been easy for you to be vulnerable with him. Maybe that's part of the reason he left, maybe you drove him away by shutting him out. His eyes meet yours, a look so soft in his eyes it feels as though his gaze is caressing your skin. You bite your bottom lip to keep the emotions at bay, what is it about this man that makes you so emotional?

"I never said I missed you." You try to snap, to add an edge to your tone. But instead it came out watery and broken, and in turn Spencer reached up to swipe away a falling tear.

"But you do." You can't even deny it, it's obvious.

"Damn you Spencer Reid, I was finally starting to feel okay again." You cry softly, curling your arms towards your chest in an attempt to shrink away from him. He cups your cheeks in his palms, turning your face up towards him.

"I wasn't." He admits before his lips are on yours, and it's not frenzied and desperate like you've been picturing all these years. It's slow and calculated, soft and passionate. Firm but with a tenderness that makes your knees buckle from the gravity of it. Spencer's fingers card into your hair, pulling your head closer to his. He nips at your lower lip, his arms crushing you against his chest. You throw yourself into him, your arms holding him as tightly as you possibly can. Afraid that if your vise grip loosens, even for a second, that he'll slip through your fingers like trying to hold onto water. You almost don't want to let your eyes close, you don't want him to disappear again.

"I missed you, I miss you-" You gasp against his lips, grabbing fistfuls of his dress shirt. Spencer continues to move his lips languidly against yours, backing you against the wall. His hand ghosts down your side to the hem of your shirt, his fingers toying with it.

"O-Off." You beg, and in an instant Spencer is pulling your shirt over your head. His eyes land on your bare chest, shocked that he almost forgot that you never really wear a bra. His hands curl around your back, drawing your chest up into his awaiting lips. His mouth curls around your hardened nipple, your hand flying into his hair from the contact.

"Is this a dream? Please tell me you're really here Spencer." You beg, almost becoming lost in the emotions again. His eyes flutter up to meet yours, his mouth reluctantly leaving your nipple. He brushes his lips over yours, his hand trailing down your stomach towards the waistband of your leggings.

"This is real, I'm here baby. I'm home." Hearing those words was too much, and you launch yourself into his chest as the first tear trickles down your cheek. Your lips press sloppily to his, the kiss messy and wet as his hand slides into your leggings. His fingers find your wet slit in an instant, desperately parting your lips to slide a lithe finger into you. Your body reacts to him instantly, in a way that surprises you. Almost as though it too was crying out for him, keening into him and begging for his touch as much as your mind is. Spencer hauls one of your thighs up to hook around his waist as he presses another finger into you. You cry out softly into the quiet air, accompanied only by the labored breathing fanning across your face.

"I need to feel you, I- I need-" You can barely get the words out as he steadily pumps his fingers into you. His mouth on yours silences your desperate pleading, his chest firmly pressing your back into the wall. You missed being able to feel him and you hate that you forgot what it feels like to have his body on yours. It's been so long you forgot what the sting of his cock feels like. What it feels like when you stretch wide open around him, to feel like you're being ripped in two. Spencer continues his pace, his thumb rolling your clit to provide the extra stimulation you're missing. It's not enough to satisfy you, but its enough for you two cum. Which you do. You gush around his fingers as you gently come undone, your back arching into him.

"Please," You beg wantonly, curling your other leg around his waist as his hands hook underneath your thighs. Spencer's lips press against yours, moving slowly against your own. You know now that you will never stop loving Spencer, and that he's completely ruined you for life. You'll never be able to love anybody else without your heart wandering back to him. But then again, you don't really mind because you don't want to be with anybody else. You don't want to love anybody else. You just want him, only him. He pushes into your room, walking the entirety of the way with his eyes closed and his mouth pressed against yours. He has the layout of your house mapped out in his head? He never even bumped into anything until he was dropping you unceremoniously on the bed.

"Tell me what you need, I'll give you whatever you want." Spencer husks against you, hovering above you. Your fingers are already unbuttoning his shirt before you even have the chance to respond to him. You know instantly what you want, what you need from him.

"I want all of you, give me everything." You plead, your lips practically chasing his as he kneels up over you. He's being soft tonight, and that's something you appreciate greatly. You need to feel his love, you need to feel everything you know he can't quite put into words. His hands are shaking as he undoes the button and zipper of his dress slacks before kicking them off the edge of the bed. You stare up at his naked body, looking as though it's been sculpted by the Gods specifically for you. Spencer smiles softly at you as he pulls your leggings down your legs, leaving little nips and kisses on your inner thighs as he goes.

"Hurry." You groan, nearly clawing at his bare shoulders to pull him back up to you. Spencer chuckles at how eager you are, watching with interested eyes as the head of his cock breaches your folds. You reluctantly stretch open as he continues his intrusion, his fists curling tightly around the sheets. Christ you weren't lying about not sleeping with anyone else, you're so tight it's making him feel a little lightheaded. Inch by inch Spencer presses into you, his forehead resting against yours once his pelvis is sitting flush against yours. Sure, you've had sex with hi before but never have you felt this connected to him. Spencer sits like a gentleman and lets you adjust to his size, trying to take a few deep breaths himself. It's hard to breathe with your heat sucking him in with a vice grip.

"Can I move?" You're surprised by how collected his voice is, but the furrow of his brow is a giveaway that he's losing the battle to stay stock still inside you.

"Yes, please." You moan, unashamed. Spencer gently draws his hips back, pulling himself nearly all the way out before swiftly sliding back into your inviting cunt. He sets the pace slow and deep, his hands reaching up to lace through yours. Every time the head of his cock nudges that spot deep inside you, you can feel your toes curl. Your head slams back against the pillows, unable to keep your gaze on him any longer. You feel yourself becoming one with him, and you wish you could capture this moment somewhere other then just in your minds eye. Your memory is nowhere near as good as Spencer's, he'll be able to recall every detail of this moment up until the day he dies. But over time, this memory will fade for you. It'll wear out, all the details becoming fuzzy and blurred. If he's not here in front of you, you'll forget and you don't want to forget.

When the night draws to a close, and the moon has reached its peak, Spencer slips carefully out of bed. It chisels away pieces of his heart as he carefully gets dressed, reaching for his go bag which he'd brought inside upon realizing that he'd be staying a while. He pulls out a t-shirt he'd worn recently and leaves it folded neatly at the end of your bed, something for you to hold onto when he's gone. Spencer's cheeks are wet with tears as he leans over and presses a kiss to your head.

"I love you." Is the last thing he whispers in the space between you two before he's gone again.

On the jet, Derek can't keep his eyes off Spencer and that helplessly broken look on his face. A book is laid nestled in Spencer's lap, but Derek can tell he isn't really reading it. Trying to bother Spencer into opening up probably won't work, but it's worth a try. Derek has to do something and this is all he can think of.

"You okay kid?"

"Yeah fine, why?" Spencer draws his eyes up from the book, his gaze meeting Derek's from across the table. While Spencer might be a talented actor, he can't lie to Derek.

"Look I know how hard it must have been leaving her again-"

"Did you know that on average the FDA allows a minimum of 1 rodent hair per 100 grams of peanut butter? They have to allow themselves room for error just in case of-"

"Alright you win, forget it." Derek sighs, turning his gaze out the window. In an instant Spencer drops his peanut butter spiel, turning back to his book. A guaranteed way to get people off his back is to start rambling about something boring or gross, they usually leave him alone pretty quickly. It's not that Spencer doesn't appreciate Derek's concern, he just doesn't want to talk about it. He can't talk about it, because every time he imagines how you're going to feel when you wake up, tears come to the surface of his eyes. He hates this case more than all the rest even though they saved the victim. Spencer hates this case for ripping open an old wound, one he thought healed.

He was wrong.

When you wake the next morning you knew he'd be gone. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you reached over and felt cold sheets. That didn't stop the tears from coming when you cried how much you loved him over and over again even though he couldn't hear you. It doesn't change how badly this hurts, how much worse it feels compared to the first time he left. Your eyes catch the shirt folded at the end of the bed and you grab it instantly. You pull it over your body and you lay down in your bed, inhaling his cologne that you know will fade over time. Eventually his scent will disappear, removing all traces that this fabric belonged to him at all. Every trace of him will disappear over time, every mark from your body will slowly vanish. When it's all gone, you'll be left with nothing more than a t-shirt that's too big for you, and a cold reminder that the man you love will never truly be yours. A reminder that every time he comes home, he leaves again.

A cold reminder that this world is cruel for bringing you Spencer Reid, only to rip him from you again and again.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Text

euphoria ; itadori yuuji

synopsis; a serene beach date, followed by intimacy at home

pairing; itadori yuuji x fem!reader

genre; fluff, smut

warnings; smut! unprotected sex, which i do not condone this is fanfiction people. curses i guess? yuuji being cute as fuck <3

note; all characters are 18+ . please don’t read the smut if you’re a minor. there’ll be a page break separating the fluff from the smut! this shit is like over 4k words rip im sorry if there are mistakes

━━ it's not the first time he's seen you in a swimsuit. it's not even a bikini this time, and he's seen you in much more revealing clothing. you've laid bare next to him as the sun seeped through the curtains and woke the two of you up, and taken countless showers with him, soaked in the water inside a bathtub, his revealed chest to your naked back. and yet, yuuji gawks at you like it is the first time.

you only huff out a laugh as you slip the cover up off your shoulders, kneeling down to roughly fold it in your bag. his gaze is piercing, but you like the lingering presence of it. he whistles as you stand to your full height again, before eagerly removing shirt with a grin, reaching for the neck hemline and pulling it off. "so hot," he tells you, earning an eye roll from you. you're not given much warning before his strong arms are wrapping around your waist, picking you up off of the sand.

"yuuji, put me down!" you exclaim, but he only lifts you up higher, tossing you up on his shoulder.

he grips your waist with one arm, the other reaching up to grasp at your thighs as soon as you see the waves of the beach dance over to where your boyfriend stands. he continues inward, the water rising up to his waist, before he whispers out a measly apology, something like, "sorry, babe," before he's throwing you off his shoulder into the salty water.

a scream ripples out of your throat as you flail around, but there's no stopping it. you hit the water suddenly, initially freezing cold, before you move your limbs frantically to push your head out of the water. scowling at your boyfriend, who's cackling as if he were a wizard that's defeated his lifelong enemy, you push your hair out of your face. "what was that for!" you ask, swimming over to where he is.

he sinks below the water before you, his chin hovering over the water as he laughs. "it was out of love," he argues. "i wish i'd recorded it; your scream was hilarious."

instead of wallowing, you paint a mischievous grin on your lips as you plant your feet onto the sand beneath you, and leap up, aiming to dunk your boyfriend's head beneath the water. he's trained though, maybe not exactly for situations like this, but his reflexes are as sharp as ever. he catches your wrists easily, shifting his grasp of them in one hand, before using the other to grab your waist and push you beneath the water again. your eyes sting at the intrusion of salt water, throat burning, but the only true, lingering thought on your mind is just how easy it was for him to deflect you like that. you're terribly aware of yuuji's athleticism and strength, and yet it always manages to catch you off guard.

"no fair, yuuji," you say, pouting up at him as you blink away the residue of salt in your eyes. "that's twice in a row!"

yuuji only laughs again, reaching out for you beneath the water. his hands settle on your waist, but it's a soothing touch this time. no mischievousness behind them, only safety and security. he urges you closer to him until you rest your forearms on his shoulders, and then he leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose. "i promise no more slam dunking in the water," he tells you, lowering his lips to finally meet yours. you kiss him gently, enjoying the taste of salt that linger on your tongue when he opens his mouth for you. maybe it's a little lewd of you, openly making out with your boyfriend in a public beach's waters, but who can blame you really? he's breathtaking.

and you don't hesitate to him so. "you're mesmerizing, yuuji," you confess, lifting a hand to brush through his damp hair. some strands are sticking to his forehead, the pink of them more evident underneath the sunlight. you think that maybe he's left you this way, so mindlessly in love with him, because of the kiss. but really, you always feel this way for him. even if subconsciously.

"maybe i should slam dunk you more often," he teases you, but ultimately, he leans in for another kiss. "i think you're pretty neat."

"pretty neat, hm?" you wonder.

he hums. "yeah. the coolest girlfriend i could ask for, maybe," he continues. "prettiest, too." you humor him, and nod diligently. "by a long run, baby."

you press one last kiss on his lips, a quick peck, before pushing yourself out of his arms' hold, laying back atop the water. "help me float," you ask him, and then you feel his hands settle flat on your back, leaving a trail of heat along your spine. he's clueless of his effects as his face hovers over yours, shielding you from the sun, and you're insistent on keeping it that way, offering him a small smile.

he helps you dance above the waves for a few minutes, occasionally asking you random questions that you, honest to god, weren't sure if anyone had the answers to. and then, inevitably, he pouts down at you, complaining in a low voice, "m'hungry, babe."

thankfully, you'd prepared in advance for this date. rushing out of the water, with yuuji's hand in yours, you race across the sand to where your belongings were, an umbrella propped up for shade. you shiver as a breeze travels past you, painting goosebumps along your skin while your boyfriend urges you to move faster. as soon as you're there, he picks up your towel first, quickly wrapping it around your trembling frame and rubbing his hands up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up.

"all good?" he wonders, and you nod, even if you're still freezing, because he's still yet to dry himself off. finally, the two of you settle on the ground, a cloth beneath you acting as barrier to the sand, and you pull out the snacks you'd packed from your bag. all of his favorites. "you really are the best," he tells you, moaning as he takes a bite into his food. you offer him a sincere smile, shuffling nearer to him for both his body heat and to rest your head on his shoulder while you eat.

there really is no telling how time will pass when you’re with him. sometimes it’s slow, languid, the universe taking its time to stretch out the moments between you two, allowing you to lose yourself within every little thing. every kiss felt like a hundred, every embrace lasted years, every glance left a lingering tingle at the bottom of your spine. other times it’s quick, breathtakingly fast, but you still feel everything as strongly as you would on the opposing days. your heart just beats a little faster, racing to catch up with the way time speeds around you. his touch is fleeting, but the effect he has on you is always eternal. today, the earth seems to slow down with you, to accommodate with your need and desire to feel every moment to the fullest. it sympathizes with you, makes sure you catch even the tiniest of movements from yuuji, like the way his eyes blink rapidly to rid himself of the intruding salt dripping from his hair, or the way he’s moving closer to you to rest his head above yours.

god, you’re such a sap.

there’s another breeze that flies by, and you shiver again, instinctively pushing yourself closer to him. yuuji takes note, lifting his arm to wrap it around you, encasing you in his warmth.

“if you could be any animal, what would you be?” he asks you. it’s not sudden, the type of question, but his voice so near you is.

you only shiver again as you shrug. “i don’t know. never really gave it much thought,” you admit. “maybe a seal or something. they seem to be doing great.”

“a seal?” he wonders, then cranes his neck to look down at you with an approving grin. “nice one, babe.”

you snort, pushing your head into the crook of his neck, sighing against his collarbones. “what about you?”

his grip tightens around you as he rubs his hand up and down your arm soothingly. then, he replies, “maybe an eagle.”

“because it symbolizes freedom?” you ask.

yuuji shrugs softly. “maybe. or just because i’d like to fly. i’d carry you on my back and take you wherever you want,” he fantasizes.

“baby,” you start, sitting up straight to face him. “that’s what planes are for.”

the look on his face emits loud laughter from you, but he pinches the skin of your upper arm with a playful scowl, scoffing, “yeah but planes aren’t free, are they?” you hum, falling back into his embrace. he easily places his arms back around you, fitting you against him perfectly, before he speaks again. “where would you want to go?” he asks.

you sigh, “anywhere with you.”

he freezes for a moment, before he lets out a giggle. “you sap! god, you’re so in love with me.”

you can’t find it within yourself to tease him because, yes, you really are so in love with him. and you had meant it. his laughter fades out into happy sighs, and then he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m so in love with you too.”

maybe you should’ve anticipated that this is where you’d be the moment you arrived back home with yuuji. it’s not that you minded; if anything, this is probably your fault more than his. it was evident in the way even the smallest of his touches, specifically today, lit a familiar fire in the pit of your stomach. inevitably, you figured, you would have found yourself in his lap anyways, knees perched on either side of him, legs spread and a flush traveling from your cheeks down to your chest.

you’d gone home with him with tired eyes and a glow to your skin. showering together hadn’t been anything out of the ordinary, either. it was simple, intimate, also hilarious when a wad of shampoo had fallen into one of yuuji’s eyes, prompting screams from him you never thought you’d hear. it’s after the shower that trouble started.

he had lazily leaned against the bed, only a towel wrapped his waist, his head tossed back against the wall. the tired sigh that left his lips mesmerized you, but you knew your thoughts were to remain as that, simple imaginations, because there’s no way either of you have a speck of energy for anything. you’re proven wrong when your boyfriend beckons you over onto the bed, not giving you much chance to even slip off your robe and into something slightly more comfortable. instead of allowing you to sit next to him, he’d lead you over onto his lap, propping you up, before capturing your lips in a lazy kiss.

you’d returned it, of course, because nothing feels better than kissing yuuji. nothing feels better than kissing yuuji with your hands on his neck, on his sturdy chest, down to strong stomach. the kiss turns feverish quickly, his grip on your covered waist tightening considerably before they travel down to your hips. he lifts himself up to sit more upright, guiding you closer to him, closer to where he wants you to be, before pushing you down harder onto him. against his mouth, you moan instinctively, hands traveling to tug lightly at his hair. a breathless gasp escapes his lips when you finally start grinding your lower body against his, his hands enforcing a bruising grip on your hips. you’re still covered, and so is he, but it isn’t long before the adrenaline truly takes over, and yuuji’s lifting his hips up to rid himself of the towel.

you’re about to follow suit, but even beneath you, he takes charge, untying the robe and slipping it off your shoulders hastily. neither of you dares to break the kiss as you’re finally completely bare before each other, and yuuji reaches forward to wrap his arms around your waist, pushing your chest flush against his. the action elicits a moan from the both of you, and you feel your nipples hardening as they brush against the muscle of yuuji’s chest. tiredness is long forgotten as your hips begin to grind aimlessly along his lap, and, in response, yuuji unfastens his left arm from around you, using the right one to steady you on top of him, as he brings one hand down between your legs.

his fingers brush against your folds, and he groans loudly at the first feel of you. he pulls back, breathlessly, to look into your eyes, noticing how hazy they’ve become, your pupils fully blown. then, he says, “wanna make you cum on my fingers, yeah?” a whine tumbles out from your lips and you nod frantically, giving him your answer to his indirect ask for consent. he collects some of your wetness on his fingers, before slowly slipping in his middle finger. although your mind had expected it, the intrusion is sudden to your body, and you lift yourself up reflexively. yuuji’s stronger than you though, and the grip of his right arm doesn’t falter as he sinks his finger deeper into you. he watches you through half lidded eyes as you throw your head back, welcoming easily the feeling that’s slowly beginning to overtake you.

he pulls out his finger to the first knuckle before pushing it back in, repeatedly, until he hears a breathless, “more,” fall from your lips. your wish is his command, and when he pulls his finger out, a second joins, filling you up even before. it’s incredible how easily you’re falling apart right before him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly, your chest heaving as his fingers speed up their ministrations. he leans forward, clasping his mouth around one of your nipples, earning an even louder moan from you. your chest rises against his mouth, and his teeth clamp down lightly, pulling at your nipple, abusing it, as his fingers continue to drill in and out of you. his thumb reaches up to rub lightly against your clit, strengthening the fire filling your veins.

you’re making a mess of him, you’re sure, and you have half a mind to finally open your eyes and glance down at him. he’s fixated on you and your pleasure, mouth eager on your chest, arm flexing as he pushes two of his fingers in and out relentlessly. “m’gonna cum,” you whine helplessly, trembling in his grasp. he hums against your chest, letting your nipple fall from between his lips as his tongue dances along the perks. “yuuji, i’m gonna cum!”

he laughs, looking back up at you when you throw your head back, uselessly attempting to rock your hips in time to meet the thrust of his fingers. teasingly, he retorts, “nothing’s stopping you, darling.”

you’re already shaking in his grip, gradually losing more control of your body’s reactions. then, his eyes meets yours as he looks up, the same time his fingers are curling inside you and his teeth reach out to tug at your nipple —

you scream when you cum, sobbing helplessly as his fingers work you through your orgasm. your thighs involuntarily flex and you lean forward, unable to hold yourself up. his mouth leaves your nipple to allow him the pleasure of watching you properly. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant in a whisper, head falling onto his shoulder. his fingers don’t stop however, and you have to reach in between you to grip at his wrist in a silent plea.

yuuji laughs again, finally slowing down his hand’s movements until he eventually pulls his fingers out. “feel good baby?” he asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck as he feels your breathing slowly steady itself. you’re still slightly trembling atop him, but you know that you’re not even close to finished for the night.

you hum in response, nodding against him. lifting yourself up, yuuji beams up at your state, skin flushed and hair damp — he’s not sure if it’s the sweat or the shower from earlier, but either way, you look too gorgeous for your own good. unexpectedly, he feels you lift up his hand, gripping at his palm, before your mouth falls open, tongue slipping out, and you place his sticky fingers onto the muscle. his breathing halts when you wrap your lips around the digits, and he silently curses when he feels you suck lightly, tongue dancing over, around and in between his fingers.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he admits to you, and you hum again around his fingers diligently. “come on,” he urges you, pulling his fingers out of your mouth and placing both hands on your waist. “can’t let you have all the fun.”

you giggle, nodding in agreement as you place your hands atop his. “want me to be on top?” you suggest.

“yeah, if you want me dead,” he jokes, before easily flipping the two of you over. you can’t help the squeal that cuts from your lips, but he swallows it easily with his mouth on yours, replacing it with a throaty moan. you can feel his dick hard against your thigh, leaking precum, smudged along your skin. he lifts himself up further along your body, pressing down against you until his heavy cock is trapped between your lower abdomens.

“yuuji, come on,” you whine up at him. your hand slides down to between you two, gripping the head of his cock, thumbing the slit. his figure falters above you, his arms trembling slightly at the feel of your hand around him.

his hand comes down to yours, swatting it off, before shifting down slightly to line himself up at your entrance. with his other hand, he spreads your legs further apart, hooking one onto his arm. once he’s satisfied, he settles the tip of his cock near your dripping sex, reveling in the noises that are spewing out of you — countless moans and breathless chants of please, please, please. he loves you always, but especially like this, all spread out for him, the heat of you nearly sucking him in as he teases your pussy.

“you look so pretty like this, baby,” he voices. you whine again as he rubs the head of his dick against your clit, throwing your head back and reaching out to grip his arm.

“please, yuuji,” you beg, and maybe if he had an ounce of self control within him at this rate he’d drag this out a little more. he’d tease you endlessly, till the sun came up again. but there’s a hunger within him that’s pleading and begging to be sated, so against all odds, with his fist wrapped around the base of his cock, he slowly enters you.

you muffle a cry at the feel of your walls stretching around him to accommodate him, and he can physically feeling you spasming around him already. he groans as he continues to sink in, his hand reaching out to fist the pillow by your head. your breath is heavy, labored, when he finally bottoms out. you feel so warm around him, it’s dizzying. “fucking tight,” he groans, his jaw tight.

he steadies himself, waiting for you to relax slightly. he doubts he’d be able to move even a little with how tight you felt around him, but slowly, surely, he feels you lift your hips slightly. “more, yuuji,” you mumble, eyes cloudy. he lifts his hand from near your head, gripping your hip instead, and with your leg lifted up on his shoulder, he pulls out, before slamming back in. your back arches as a loud moan rips from your throat, mindlessly cursing, “fuck!” he does it again, encouraged by the noises you’re making and the way your body’s reacting to him. you’re so fucking wet, dripping down onto the bed beneath the two of you, but he can’t even begin to think of anything but the fact that he’s reducing you to this state.

he continues to thrust diligently into you, his hips snapping against yours repeatedly. with the angle he’s fucking you, he continuously hits a specific spot within you, leaving your head cloudy and your spine tingling. he’s splitting you open in half at this point, but all you can do is lay there, muscles tight and exhausted, skin slick with sweat and chest flushed, rising and falling rapidly. your breasts bounce with every thrust, and you’re convinced he’s fucking you stupid as your eyes roll back, your back arching off the bed.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praises you. “so good, pretty.” his voice is breathless, deeper too, and you look up at him for a split second. his eyes are trained down to where your bodies are connected, watching as you take him so well, his gaze never wavering.

when he leans forward, dropping your leg to wrap it around his waist instead, you know he’s getting close. his cock twitches inside of you, his hands coming to rest by your waist on the bed. his fingers, suddenly, come to work at your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves harshly. “it’s too much! too good!” you wail, and he drinks it at all, his fingers growing slick again with your wetness.

“i wanna feel you cum all over me,” he tells you, thrusts somehow deeper. you let out a broken sob, your nails digging into his shoulders as he works you over to the edge. he’s given no warning other than the relentless squeezing of your pussy around him and your repeated cries of “cumming, cumming, cumming!” before you’re trembling beneath him, struggling to catch your breath as your hips lift up off the bed. the orgasm continues to rock through as yuuji’s thrusts grow sloppier.

“where do you want me?” he shakily asks. despite the overstimulation and the over sensitivity, you wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. he rests his head in the crook of your neck, his quiet moans music to your ears so close to you. “darling,” he groans, gripping your waist as he uses your body to bring himself closer to his high.

“inside, yuuji,” you mumble, pressing a kiss to his temple. “please, please, plea—“ a gasp tumbles out as he suddenly stills, your words sending him over the edge. his muscles flex, slightly trembling within your arms, his small pants spreading heat along your skin.

slowly, he fucks into you, riding out his high, pressing chaste kisses along your neck and throat. “love you so much,” he mumbles, finally stilling.

you feel sticky, sweaty, and not at all clean in comparison to when you’d just stepped out of the shower. but you also feel blissful, euphoric, hazy and completely satisfied. yuuji lifts his head up finally, lifting himself up slightly to pull out of you. his cum trickles out slowly, but he pays it no mind as he flops half of his body atop yours, and you let out a pained laugh.

“yuuji!” you whine. “you’re heavy.” he only hums tiredly, his arm slung along your middle, his cheek against your shoulder. you bring a hand up, the one he isn’t immobilizing, to brush away his hair. his eyes are barely kept open, but he still manages to smile dreamily at you. your fingers ghost over his features, admiring them, tracing his soft skin, unknowingly lulling him to sleep. “okay, king of aftercare,” you joke, and he huffs out a laugh.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbles. “aftercare tomorrow.”

you nod, beaming brightly, and leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead. his chest begins rising and falling slowly, telling you he’s already asleep, but when you mumble out, “i love you so much, too,” and press a kiss to his cheek, you swear he smiles.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen smut #yuji itadori x reader #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori smut #itadori yuuji smut

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zodiakuroo · 4 years ago

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

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so-writing · 3 years ago

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The Ghost of You - Matthew Tkachuk (3)

At the end of the world Or the last thing I see You are never coming home

He tried to plead his case, tried to play the blonde off as some old friend he hadn’t seen in years but you weren’t stupid.

“I’m not going to marry you,” you were solid while he was on the verge of crumbling because he’d finally been caught, “and I’m moving out.”

His cries of ‘sorry baby’ and ‘i didn’t mean it’ and ‘i never meant to hurt you’ because ‘i love you’ followed you through your shared home as you packed up your things. All Matt could do was watch you pack and try to plead his case, one that was falling on deaf ears.

“Please,” he dropped to his knees on the front porch of your shared home, “please don’t leave. I know I’ve been a fucking piece of shit but I can’t lose you. I can’t lose you. I don’t what to fucking do without you.”

That sounds like a you problem, Matthew Tkachuk.

You shrugged your shoulders and turned away from the man you once thought was your soulmate.

It was absolutely a ‘him’ problem, something he learned way too late.

Matthew buried his sadness over your breakup in random women and none of them made him feel any better. Eight months had passed and the only thing he did was up his body count exponentially. He missed, he loved you, he realized he fucked up.

He needed you. Matthew Tkachuk needed to get you back.

“Just fucking call her,” Elias was less than helpful when it came to Matt’s quest to get his girl, “if she doesn’t answer, leave a message.”

You didn’t answer, and despite his friend’s advice, Matt didn’t leave a message. He couldn’t because he was the reason you were somewhere far away from him, not bothering to answer his calls.

Still, despite everything, he remained a tiny bit hopeful. Maybe you would forgive him just a little, just enough to let him in a little bit. That was all he wanted, the tiniest amount of your time to try and win you back.

Enough time passed that he started to lose hope until it finally happened.

“Call her,” his sister urged, “it’s been months, if you’re not comfortable with a phone call, send a text message. You’ve gotta stop moping and either get her back or get over her.”

She was right, she was always right, but Matthew was scared so he opted for the text message.

Hey. I hope you’re doing well.

“How was that?”

“Decent for a first text but if she hasn’t blocked you yet, she probably will now. Send another one, tell her how you feel, don’t be too intense though.”

I miss you. I’m sorry if I’ve bothered you but I know I fucked up. I meant it when I proposed. You’re the one.

“Was that too intense?”

Taryn rolled her eyes but a smile played at her lips, “kind of, but it’ll definitely make waves.”

“You miss her too?”

“Yeah,” she answered honestly, “a lot. I wish you hadn’t been such a piece of shit.”

“I know. I do too. Hindsight, right?”

“Yep, definitely twenty-twenty.”

The text message from Matthew made you dizzy. It was the last thing you ever expected to hear, but if you were being honest with yourself, it was the only thing you wanted. You fell in love with Matthew Tkachuk, flaws and all, because he was wonderful and charming and beautiful. He was everything you wanted and he was the person that hurt you more than you ever imagined anyone could.

“Babe,” his arms around your waist pulled you out of your thoughts, “you good?”

“Yeah, Tys, I’m good.”

You let yourself drown in the feeling of your new boyfriend, Tyson, but you couldn’t shake what you felt when you first read Matthew’s text.

Denver was treating you more than wonderful and Tyson Jost was more than you could have asked for. There was no reason to stir the pot, especially when it came to Matthew Tkachuk.

#Matthew Tkachuk #Matthew Tkachuk imagine #matt tkachuk #tyson jost #tyson Jost imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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taeyohonic · 4 years ago

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the trophy wife (m)

summary: the proposal doesn’t go as planned (established relationship, idol au, fluff and angst) pairing: min yoongi x fem!reader rating: explicit (18+) warnings (containing spoilers): swearing, robbery, pandemic, vomit, description of injuries and blood (very abstract), mentions of depression, insomina and periods, a hella lot ugly crying info: when i tell you that this is a super-duper fluffy piece, i’m not lying! it was 99% sweetness, so i added a little... angst (but like... only 10%) related work: the stalker | baby, what’s wrong? | favoritism (m) | the trophy wife words: 5.7k

“would you still love me if i became your trophy wife?”

yoongi snorts into his iphone, your grimace too adorable to be taken seriously.

“how bad are these papers?”, he asks. jungkook next to him is stealing curious glances at his hyung’s screen. to hear your voice so distressed makes him worry. you’re the best thing that ever happened to his member – your well-being comes right after his need for homemade kimchi.

“how… can they not know which products contain dairy? how yoongs?”, you vent eyeing the ungraded test in front of you.

“i ate… so much yogurt. the whole class did. we tested so much dairy products… like… so much. we drank all of the banana milk… how can they get this wrong?”, you continue. unbeknown to you, the maknae is now furrowing his brows at your words. wait a minute…

“noona, did you steal my banana milk last week?”, jungkook questions and moves closer to yoongi. before you can hide you see his big eyes joining your boyfriend on the screen.

“wow, jungkookie – your undercut looks so good. damn!”, you say. it’s not a total deflection; he does look extremely handsome after his haircut.

“noona, i thought i sleepwalked”, he whines, not caring for your compliment… right now.

“taehyung even made a meme out of it”, he complaints and you have the audacity to coo at him. yoongi tries to hide his smile, but he can see his reflection grinning on the screen.

“it was oppa’s idea!”

and now his smile freezes as jungkook moves his accusing glare to him. you don’t usually call yoongi by this name. and he’d be all too happy to shut you up in your shared bedroom. but now he and the boys are in the outskirts of seoul to film the newest music video, far away from you and your treacherous mouth.

“hyung?”, jungkook asks with the voice of a cheated wife ready to sign the divorce papers.

“it’s for the kids, maknae”, your boyfriend defends himself to which jungkook only huffs in irritation.

“there was a time when i was the kid – what happened? am i not cute enough anymore? noona? am i not the most adorable?”

his deer eyes stare at you – big, brown and full. you can’t help but to take a screenshot of these two – your rapper visibly done with his member and jungkook in the middle of a banana milk breakdown. you’ll have to frame this picture.

“you’re the most adorable thing there is, jungkookie”, you reassure him. yoongi just snorts when he sees the faintest flush on his bandmate’s face.

“that’s enough praise for him, baby. save it for your students.” there is no humor in the smile you send him. after a beat of silence in which you burry all your frustration deep inside the pits of your stomach, you try to change the subject.

“how is nature?” they’ve been in the woods for weeks, completely closed off from all the city drama. you’ve never seen jimin so excited to drive – while namjoon’s sour face reflected how much the latest failed drivers test bothered him.

“jin-hyung nearly died in the water today. it was epic”, your friend instead of your boyfriend answers and you have to shift a giggle at yoongi’s eyeroll.

“be gone, maknae”

rudely blunt – just how you liked your partner. jungkook just winks at you in a silent goodbye and gets up. he’s nearly out of the picture before his upper body shoves against the rapper. his nose is way too close to the screen and you’d be worried about his eyes – if you didn’t know how often the singer spends his nights in front of his computer.

“noona, you’ll replace the milk, right?”

“jungkook”, yoongi growls in responds. the boy is not acknowledging his colleague, so you give in and nod.

“of course, kookie. it’s already waiting in the fridge for you to come back”, you tell him. as soon as these words leave your mouth, the maknae is satisfied and gone.

“you don’t have to baby him that much, ____”, yoongi says while moving the phone closer to his face. you can see the dark circles under his eyes better now.

“what’s keeping you up at night, yoongs?”, you ask instead of answering his complaint. the rapper smiles faintly at the screen.

“you, baby, always you” yu snort and let yourself lie down on the couch �� the papers can wait another day, or a lifetime.

“i wish”, you say truthfully. you’d sell one of your kidneys to relax with the boys far away from the pandemic madness. after having yoongi to yourself for two weeks non-stop, you are way too spoiled. even though your legs are deeply grateful for this recovery time, you miss the constant calm radiating off of your boyfriend.

“i’ll be back soon, baby”, he reassures you and draws lines across the screen. your cheeks look colorless and it worries him just as much as his lack of sleep bothers you.

“make it sooner”, you mutter and close your eyes when you hear his chuckle in responds.

“have you had dinner yet?”, yoongi asks but you don’t want to open your eyes, not ready to face his criticism.

“nah, i’ll wait till sungho gets here.” you don’t need your eyesight to feel his disapproval.

“that’s not very socially distance of you, ____.” yeah, no baby anymore. still, you remain shut off.

“he’s just a friend. one friend. one work friend. one work friend that needs help with the new school cloud. the online grading program is a pain in the ass.”

“and why do you have to do that at six on a friday night in our home?”, yoongi notices the tiniest of smiles on your lips as he mentions your shared home. he, too, loves your little flat with a pandora of memories.

“because i am a loner and don’t have anything better planed for the weekend and my boyfriend is camping in the woods and oh – there is a global pandemic”, you snort and open your eyes to watch your boyfriend’s tensed expression.

“if you’re a loner – what am i then? a stone?”, yoongi asks sarcastically.

“maybe a boulder”, you shoot back with a soft smile that melts his jealousy away… nearly.

“just… don’t let him touch my stuff”, yoongi orders. he’d trade his own maknae to be the one at the other side of your door when he hears a distant knocking sound.

“that’ll be him, yoongs”, you say and move off the couch with as much dignity as one can muster after a whole work week and no motivation left in the bones.

“promise to call me back when you’re in bed?”, your boyfriend pleads, reluctant to let you go. with him going on world tours this phone conversation isn’t your first and it won’t be the last. still, his small request fills you with yearning.

“of course”, you promise, eyes still on him as you open the door without a second thought.

a fist connects with your skull while your eyes widen at the sight of two ski-masked men. the pain is instantly blinding your senses and you start to scream with tears clouding your vision. you fall to the floor before they push their way inside your home. one of them, muscle clad with wide shoulders kicks you in the stomach just to move you out of their way. the other, smaller in statue, crushes your phone with his shoe, the cracked screen frozen with your boyfriend starring at you in horror.

namjoon will never forget the bone chilling scream waking him this evening from his nap. he’s never heard yoongi’s voice filled to the brim with pain. not even registering his movements, he tumbles into the living room where is friend is still yelling your name, his face a mask of panic.

“hyung, what’s wrong?”, namjoon asks as footsteps behind him signal the arrival of his bandmates.

yoongi’s hands shake as his eyes stay fixed on the screen of his form. the leader moves first, not able to watch his friend losing himself. when joon steps behind yoongi’s figure to calm him down, a cold shower travels through his body. the screen shows you lying on the floor with red dripping from your mouth. your eyes are closed, but namjoon notices the uneven rise and fall of your chest – you’re breathing.

“jin, call the police”, the leader orders without turning around. his hands try to pry the phone out of yoongi’s fingers, but they are white with pressure and unforgiving. his lungs are still screaming and namjoon’s heart breaks at the scene.

“hyung, - just… calm down”, he says, not quite believing in his own words. he wouldn’t calm down either in yoongi’s position.

“what am i reporting?”, seokjin asks, close enough that the question answers itself as soon as he peaks over yoongi’s shoulder.

“i’d like to report a break-in – there is a person, hurt. the address is-“

yoongi can’t hear his oldest colleague, the voice drowned by his worry for you. at first, he doesn’t register namjoon’s chest pressing behind his back, but then his body shudders when the fellow rapper hugs him from behind.

“hyung, we – sh – it’s gonna be okay. it’ll be okay, she’s okay… we… you have to calm down, yoongi”, namjoon sooths his friend of ten years and rocks them both from side to side.

“taehyung, call the building manager – there should be security in the foyer”, seokjin commands the young man who watches the scene in front of him passively. as soon as he hears his name though, the singer moves to grab his iphone with shaky fingers.

“look, hyung, she’s awake”, joon points out and yoongi shakes his head to move these stupid tears out of his vision. indeed, your eyes are open as you try to even your breathing. it looks like you are crying as well and yoongi has never felt this kind of searing pain before. to see the love of his life in tears and burglars destroying your home while he is in the middle of fucking nowhere, makes him sick. when he sees you trying to get up, only to drop back onto the floor, his stomach turns. yoongi vomits onto his lap and namjoon has to hold his friend upright as he loses consciousness.

you’ve never been this glad for the heavy painkillers your boyfriend has tugged away in the bathroom due to his immense shoulder problems. the icepack pressed to your forehead cools for body down; still, you are shaking with adrenaline as you watch the security guard pace in front of you.

“yes, sir, yes – no, of course sir, negative sir”, he looks at your shaking form and grimaces before answering. “minor injuries”, the guard holds his phone further away when his caller answers a few decibels too loud.

“the paramedics are on their way”, he responds, not daring to look you directly in the eye. after another game of “yes and no”, the security ends his call.

“how are you, ma’am?”, the man in uniform asks, but remains standing a few feet away. when he first got here after receiving a hectic message from his boss, you were crying on the floor – alone. his colleague is already checking the floors, while another is combing through the surveillance footage. it’s been five minutes and you still look like a ghost.

his instructions were crystal clear – don’t touch the subject. but his heart clenches when he sees your trembling form trying to calm yourself down.

before you can answer him, two paramedics arrive through the door. they zero in on the blood drying across your forehead. their hands press gently against your skin and ask you questions you try to answer. soon, they move you to a standing position, with your head wound dressed and your vitals checked.

“we’ll take you to the hospital, ma’am”, the older woman explains. with a few steps you are at the door – there, right on the threshold where your nightmare began half an hour ago, stands sungho, chinese take-out and laptop in hand. your fellow teacher looks at you with widened eyes.

“_____ - what the hell?”, he curses and nearly drops his food when you smile at him – your teeth unbeknown to you still tinted red.

“are you her partner?”, the paramedic asks.

“just a friend”, he answers, not letting you out of his sight.

“we have to get her to the hospital – will you accompany us?”, the medic questions and sungho nods. your little crowd moves to the elevator and the security guard closes your door with a soft click. the police will be here soon, he thinks as he watches your beaten figure step onto the elevator.

“this cannot be the way to do this, ___”, sungho exclaims while you are staring at the iv-drip connected to your arm in distress. you hate needles.

the hospital’s v.i.p room is normally reserved for celebrities, but they made an exception for you, the girlfriend of min yoongi. sejin’s hunched form outside the room might have played a role in that. bangtan’s manager arrived half an hour ago, worried and disheveled. his posture calmed when the doctors reassured him, you’d be okay. now, he’s waiting for seven idols in various stages of panic to arrive.

“it’s the way this works – just… do as i say, okay?”, you huff. there is a part of you not willing to let the last hours crash into you; not without your partner here. so, you’ve spent the last sixty minutes showing him how to use your new school cloud – the easy way, not the right one.

“but the course still doesn’t show in my settings”, he whines, and you roll your eyes while pushing cold pad thai in your mouth. the rich flavor appeases your hungry stomach and you swallow the take-out down in one breathe. songho is a godsend for bringing the ordered food with him to the hospital. it’s a much-needed distraction from the horror of your cracked rib and light concussion.

“you have to set the course to ‘official’ – it’s still private”, you explain with another mouthful of oily noodles slurring your speech.

sungho’s brows furrow in concentration when you hear heavy footsteps in the hall. the boys are there – and they are not slowing down.

before sejin can even try to greet the idols, yoongi pushes through the door – all six of them only a breath behind.

the second you see him, the tears start without your consent. yoongi looks crazy – his eyes gleam with insanity – as he sucks in the hospital air through his mask.

you’re here. you’re alive. you’re safe. you’re here. he’s here. you are both here. his thoughts are running in circles – not ready to slow down, not ready to expand.

your boyfriend resembles a statue; just standing in front of the hospital bed. his face screams for help and it breaks you as the first cry leaves your throat. in a flash yoongi is moving to you, bumping into a shocked sungho. his finger brush against your wet cheeks like you’d break under his touch, while your body collapses.

“baby”, he whispers – the first word his members have heard since he regained consciousness.

“yoongs”, you answer and throw your arms around his neck. the smell of vomit and sweat makes your nose crunch up, but your boyfriend hugs it all away. his forearms rest on each side of your head – supporting his weight – as he lets you hold on to him, the boyfriend who was playing idol life in the woods instead of being at home with his girlfriend. even through his mask he can breathe in your unique smell, clouded by disinfectant.

“noona”, the youngest whimpers from the doorway. jungkook is silently crying, his mask discolored from the tears. every member looks at you with sorrow, the younger ones visibly not as professional at keeping their emotions together. namjoon looks like he’s aged a decade, but there is a small smile pressing his eyes together behind his mask. you try to reciprocate his smile, but yoongi’s head his pressing against your cheeks with vigor.

“why don’t we give them some space?”, sejin says to which your coworker nods instantly. he’s your friend for sure – but this is a level of intimacy he’s not willing to share with you.

the members need more convincing as hoseok tries to gently pull jungkook back. the maknae vehemently shakes his head, not ready to leave you and yoongi alone.

“we’ll wait right outside, kookie”, seokjin coax him out of the room. he’s still reluctant so go, but jimin’s small body pushes against his back. soon, namjoon closes the door, leaving you alone.

your tears won’t stop and you try to move closer to your boyfriend – you want to feel him all around you. without words yoongi understands your need and presses his body down on yours. there is a sharp pain when his stomach meets your fractured rib.

“ah”, you breathe, hurting. yoongi extracts himself from you in a flash; every fiber of his being furious at your injury.

“baby”, he calls out as his fingers ghost across your ribcage.

“it’ll… it’ll heal soon”, you say timidly.

“how could this happen, baby?”, he asks, still more interested in your upper body than your eyes.

“i-i i should-d have che-checked the door before, ah before answering”, you whimper, ready to face the blame.

with yoongi’s lifestyle comes a certain level of danger. you’ve been trained to be more cautious with everyday things like grocery shopping, inviting new friends over, answering the door without checking the cam.

“no, no, no, no – baby – no…”, he hushes you. “they should have never been able to pass the foyer, nor should they have been able to move to the penthouse level.”

“i-i was so scared”, you admit, linking your fingers with his and pressing them close to your still beating heart.

“i know, baby, me too”, yoongi soothes you and flexes his fingertips against your warm skin.

“i’ve never felt this worthless… you got hurt… right in front of me… and i … i couldn’t do anything.” his voice shakes with emotions and slowly his stare moves to your bruised face. the madness has nearly died in his eyes – but there is still so much pain hidden behind his brown iris.

“i- i could have lost you”, he whispers darkly, speaking a truth into reality he is not ready to face. your crying has stopped now that the both of you are calmer and connected.

“nah, never, remember?”, you say with some form of humor behind your words. “i’m your trophy wife. trophy wives don’t die. first, they’d kill their rich husband”, you remind your boyfriend of your conversation half a lifetime ago.

“it’d be an honor getting murdered by you, baby.” his mask is gone in a flash and then you feel the warmth of his lips against your temple. “just let me finish my third mixtape first.”

“don’t move, noona”, jungkook pleads as the warm sunlight irritates your skin. the fresh air is caressing your body while the youngest tries to finish his painting. trees surround the both of you, resting on a soft picnic blanket. it’s the first time since your release from the hospital that yoongi has left you out of his sight. granted, you’re still not totally alone with the strongest bangtan member watching over you like a hawk. but it’s definitely a much-needed break from yoongi’s fretting.

after nearly throwing a tantrum in front of his manager und some staff members who wanted to continue the filming of their new “in the soop” show, all the members knew they’d have to handle their rapper with care. leaving you alone wasn’t an option, so taehyung and seokjin packed your suitcase with essentials and after your doctors determined you ready to rest at home, all eight of you moved back to the chill vacation home in the middle of nowhere.

the last few days have been difficult – the filming staff getting more and more irritated because the members flocked around you 24/7. sejin had to come up with a different schedule allowing every bandmate time to reconnect with you as well as time to do their work. only yoongi was allowed to not leave your side most of the day – him working on the new music being the cover for his absence.

but after days of your boyfriend breathing down your neck, you’ve had enough. so, now yoongi is out on the water with seokjin fishing, while you’re spending time with jungkook.

“when did the police say they are coming?”, you ask the painter. his nose is crunched in concentration as he tries to outline your hipbone.

“they should be here before lunch – if your boyfriend even manages to catch some lunch”, he answers. you snort, messing up his grasp of your proportions.

“i do have faith in seokjin’s ability.” jungkook chuckles but keeps his eyes on your drawing. you look so delicate, so soft, he can’t believe they nearly lost you.

“i got robbed – i didn’t die, kookie”, you read his mind as his eyes darken.

“you got hurt”, he responds through clenched teeth.

“and they’ll pay for that”, you vow. the police had called this morning with the news of your robbers being captured during another crime. you’re still not sure how the officers can be so sure they’re the same criminals, but you’re eager to close this chapter with your statement later that day.

your painting session gets interrupted by namjoon. “the detectives are already here, ____.”

jungkook is by your side in a flash and together with the leader the both of them help you up. the rib is healing and harsh movements still hurt. yoongi had a near meltdown when you tried to ride him yesterday morning only to topple over in pain.

“yoongi and jin don’t have a signal out in the water – but they won’t be long”, namjoon explains and guides you indoors to meet the two officers.

“ms. ______, a pleasure to meet you”, the older policeman says in greeting. the younger one only shifts uncomfortable when he sees you flanked by two famous idols.

“thanks for coming all this way”, you respond and bow slowly, not to put extra pressure on your rib.

“is there somewhere we could talk – uhm- privately?”, the old man asks and you show them to one of the office rooms in the back. jungkook reluctantly leaves your side and joon only squeezes your hand in passing.

“just holler when you need us, _____”, he says before ordering the maknae to clean the art supplies.

with both officers sitting across from you, you nervously fiddle in your chair.

“the two intruders were caught this morning while pawning off their haul”, the younger policeman states and shows you a surveillance picture of two familiar men. their figures alone invoke iced fear in your heart, and you push the picture out of your sight. after a moment of silence, you collect yourself enough to absorb the information.

“what did they steal? i – i didn’t report anything missing, sir”, you question. sure, they trashed the painting yoongi brought for you during your last vacation in italy. and some cloths were thrown across the bedroom – but there was nothing stolen. you even signed your statement last week before leaving for the woods.

the officers look at you like you’ve grown a second head.

“miss, you reported the item missing days ago. there is even a harsh voicemail left with your fiancé demanding a swift investigation.” you shake your head at their words – no, you didn’t.

“which item?”, you ask the men with narrowed eyes. you’d been off the pain meds for days now. but to call yoongi your fiancé? clearly, they’d switched up cases. the older officer opens his briefcase to retrieve a plastic bag with a… ring in it.

“in my days, my wife would have never forgotten about her engagement ring”, the man snickers as you watch the cold metal in front of you. it’s beautiful – it’s so yoongi, you wouldn’t be surprised if he himself crafted the asymmetric diamond set on roughened silver.

you’d dreamed of this moment for over a year – to lay eyes on the ring cementing your future in stone – or diamonds.

never would you have imagined it to be this tainted with two officers starring you down and the jewelry wrapped carelessly in plastic – a piece of evidence – while your boyfriend is fishing with kim seokjin.

“uhm”, you hesitate as emotions swirl around your brain. he was going to propose? to you?

“i had half a panic attack carrying it around with me the whole day – that thing could pay off all my debt, as well as my kid’s college fees”, the officer jokes, still not recognizing your surprise as genuine.

“uhm”, you try again to form words.

“we’ve all the papers here for you to sign; after that we’ll be ready to get out of your hair… for now”, the youngest states and moves different documents across the table. they lie next to yoongi’s engagement ring – your engagement ring.

“uhm”

giving up on forming a coherent sentence, you move along and sign your name on the different protocols. the paper from your insurance company makes your heart still – reading all the zeros on the price of your ring.

this… is by far the worst engagement set up you’ve ever heard of. your hands shack and your signature looks just terrible, but it’s enough for the two detectives. they still don’t seem to find your reaction odd as they collect their stuff and bid you fare well. like a zombie you get up and follow them to the front door, your ring clutched between your fingertips.

jungkook and jimin are waiting for you next to the foyer and jump at the sight of your pale face.

“everything alright?”, jimin asks and places a protective hand on your back. your slow nod does not convince them and their eyes sour at the policemen.

while the younger officer takes a step back, the oldest just chuckles at your idol friends.

“all is well, kids”, he sooths them. then both bow to you and you can only muster an awkward smile, the jewelry heavy in your hand.

“happy wedding planning, ms. ____”, he winks at you before they leave. the soft click of the closing door is the only sound in the hallway. you’re not even sure you’re breathing.

after a beat of silence you flinch at the sound of jimin’s high-pitched squeal.

“weeeedding”, he asks, way too loud and way too joyful. the mochi-cheeked idol excitedly jumps up and down, not really caring that you remain silent.

jungkook on the other hand looks … really upset. “you told the police but not me?”, he whispers betrayed.

you could cry as you feel the headache from your concussion clouding your mind. this is… too much.

“uhm”, you’ve decided to stick with your running-gag answer and push both idols out of your way.

your feet carry you out of the house, through the terrace door and before you know it, you’re running across the green gras. the smell of the lake invades your nose while you search for you boyfriend. yoongi’s boat is still on the water and you spot both men resting against each other with their rods, ready to catch your lunch. sunshine shimmers on the lake’s surface as you run onto the dock. your bare feet press against the wood while your hair rushes around you – the wind breezing through the unkempt strands.

“is… is that _____, yoongi?”, seokjin asks his fishing buddy who’s more focused watching the water for prey than his surroundings.

“huh?”, he hums, not really listening to his friend.

“i- i think your girlfriend wants to talk to you, yoongi”, the old singer says hesitantly as he sees you jumping up and down on the wooden dock. this can’t be good for your health.

swiftly, the rapper turns to the spot seokjin is pointing at. and there you stand – beautiful and barefoot, dressed in his t-shirt and some old leggings. your hair is a mess and the sun dances across your skin like the tiniest firework.

“MIN YOONGI”, you shout at the top of your lungs. your boyfriend flinches hearing your loud voice across the water.

“she sounds angry”, seokjin whispers.

“YOU FOOL”, you continue to yell and see seokjin’s shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“oh, i hope the crew gets this on tape”, he says with glee while yoongi really, truly tries to find a reason for your anger. he’s left you alone today, at your request. maybe you didn’t really want him to go? was it a test to see how much he wanted to stay with you? did he fail?

“I GOT YOUR RING!”, you shout and flash the evidence bag high in the air.

immediately, the rapper shoots up from his sitting position, rocking the boat dangerously form side to side.

“yah, yoongi, what the hell?”, seokjin swears but your boyfriend’s eyes rest on you, holding your engagement ring in a plastic bag. there is no air in his lungs – he’s been thinking about this moment for the last two years. he dreamed of your joyful tears, how soft your hands would feel while pushing the silver banner on your finger.

and now… he’s an ocean away from you holding on to the jewelry that got you hurt weeks ago.

“DO YOU WANT TO ASK ME SOMETHING, MIN YOONGI?”, you scream and your boyfriend’s eyes widen when they see the smile on your lips; do you – do you find this funny?

without thinking, he takes a step forward.

You can only watch seokjin’s helpless grimace as yoongi brings the boat out of balance. both idols topple over and splash into the cold sea.

the icy water doesn’t bother the rapper as he pushes to the surface. the sun shines high up while he speeds to the dock. you’ve never seen your boyfriend this determent – his laps forceful and quick, leaving a still shocked seokjin behind.

your fingers shake as you watch him come closer and closer to you. in mere moments he’s close enough for you to hear his heavy breathing.

yoongi heaves himself out of the cold, his shoulder screaming in pain, and then he is dripping in front of you. your boyfriend looks like a wet dog, the black hair plastered to his forehead as he steps forward. you can smell the sea salt across his drenched clothes.

the engagement ring screams from the bag to be acknowledged and yoongi is just… staring at you deeply.

“i had it all planned”, he whispers wringing his sweater. the gush of water drops on the deck, but the idol only looks at you. “weeks ago.” his fingers wrap around your writs, a silent plea to give the ring to its rightful owner – for now.

“i wanted to take you to the restaurant where we had our first date”, he admits and opens the bag. your first date had been a disaster – you’re still vividly remembering the food poisoning.

“then all the restaurants closed down; we were both so stressed… and… life went on”, yoongi continues as the ring dances between his fingertips. it looks like art without the plastic cheapening its presence.

“i... wanted it to be perfect.” his whispered words fall to the floor as he kneels in front of you. warmth is coloring your face, seeing your idol submitting to you.

“baby… you know how much i love you… how much you inspire me every day to become the best version of myself”, yoongi’s voice cracks against his words and you can’t help the softest coo from leaving your lips.

“i promise i’ll make you the best trophy wife of south korea.”

you snort as you hear boyish snicker from behind you at yoongi’s joke.

“will you spend the rest of my life with this ring on your hand?”, he asks and without waiting for an answer, he pushes the silver band on your finger. it fits perfectly.

“am i not supposed to agree first?”, you respond as your eyes stay on your future husband.

“oh baby, you agreed the moment you ate my burned pasta.” yoongi gets up and pushes a lose strand of hair behind your ears.

“you agreed the moment you moved in with me, a struggling insomniac.” his hands cradle your face, framing the expression of love between his palms.

“you agreed the moment you let me change your tampon because you were too drunk to move.” he gives you airy butterfly kisses.

“you agreed the moment you didn’t kill me for stealing your favorite ice cream from the freezer.”

“that actually was a close call”, you chime in, only to hear his soft chuckle.

“you agreed all those nights staying with holly in our shared bed while i traveled across the globe.”

a kiss is planted on the fresh scar across your temple. “you agreed all these moments where my depression was too much, where i was trapped in my own misery.”

a line of kisses travels to your mouth. mere millimeters from your lips he stills. “you do, right?”

under all the layers of love, confidence and familiarity, there is still a shy boy unsure of his worth. your smile is infused with giddiness as you close the gap, pressing your lips together in the softest kiss.

“i do”, you whisper in his mouth, only to meet his tongue with your own in a joyful dance. the boys around you are cheering, while the soft waves of the lake clash against the dock. you’re in pure bliss, kissing your wet fiancé fiercely.

and then you hear a loud thud, a wet slash on the wood. surprised, you both jump away a step – only to see a heaving seokjin lying flat on the deck, chest rising at a fast pace.

“i near- i nearly died for th-this engagement, ____. if – if i’m am not the be-best man, i’ll… will cast a spell on all- all yo-ur children.”

____

ah, this fic is crazy and totally not what i imagined it to become. i hope you enjoyed the read! there is only one chapter left (the stalker) – who’s excited for it? i hope you are doing well! to you, your family and/or loved ones i wish only the most festive time this week! love, dana

#btswriterscollective #bangtanuniversity #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts x reader #bts established relationship #yoongi idol au #bts idol au #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #min yoongi

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planetsano · 4 years ago

Text

insecurities

request: in which Bakugou, Todoroki, Izuku, Kirishima and Kaminari are about to get intimate with their partner but their partner has body insecurities.

warning(s): may be triggering to those sensitive about their looks/body, low self esteem, implied sex, cursing, aged up (19+)

— [♡] ; bakugou katsuki

Bakugou is a bit brash and rough around the edges and he's fully aware of that, but when it comes to you, he's a gentleman. He is very careful, kind and protective with you. He's really into you.

So when you started crying in the middle of a heated make out he was startled. He immediately thinks that he hurt you somehow.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He’s looking down at you with concerned eyes and furrowed brows.

You're embarrassed and at this point covering your face with your hands while you cried.

“Hey. Talk to me, dummy.” Bakugou spoke to you softly. He'd gently take your wrist trying to remove your hands from your face. You reluctantly let him move your hands exposing your wet eyelashes and tear stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small and you felt extremely vulnerable underneath his intense gaze.

“What are you sorry for?” At this point he's confused just as much as he is worried.

“I don't want to disappoint you..” You feel your bottom lip quiver and tears forming at the rim of your eyes.

“Disappoint me? What are you on about?” Bakugou is a tough boy but he's fucking beyond worried at this point. He just wishes you would tell him what's wrong so he could fix it.

You would finally admit to him that you don't like your body. You never have. That it's frustrating for you being in a relationship with him and wanting to take it to the next level but you just can't bring yourself to be completely naked in front of him. Not yet.

Man, his heart is really aching at your words.

He’s also shocked because he genuinely believes every inch of you is perfect so it's shocking to hear you're worried that he won't like your body.

He's not the best with words but he'll try.

“How do you not know that you're fucking beautiful? Everything about you is perfect, even when you annoy the fuck out of me you're still perfect. I couldn't care less about how your body looks so don't think stupid thoughts like that.” He tried and in the process he makes you smile the tiniest of smiles.

You feel a little silly because at the end of the day it's Katsuki for god's sake. This boy loves you so much.

He's willing to tell you that you're perfect everyday until you believe it.

— [♡] ; todoroki shouto

Todo wouldn't ever pressure you into doing something you weren't ready to do or something you weren't comfortable with. He's extremely patient and considerate of your feelings. It's almost scary what he can put up with.

But I think after enough rejection and excuses every time you two start to get intimate he’d start to feel like he was the problem. You know with coming from a traumatizing childhood, I don't think he'd take rejection, especially from a loved one, very lightly. It’d really hurt him.

He just wants to make you happy in any and every way possible so he would start to think he's lacking in some area.

Todoroki is very articulate with his thoughts so it wouldn't be long before he brought up how he was feeling.

It'd most likely be after another rejection, usually in the middle of a heated makeout and clothing start to come off.

“Darling.. am I doing something wrong?” His voice is soft as he looks at you sitting on the other side of the bed.

“What do you mean?” You tilted his head in confusion.

He then explains how he feels and you start to feel awful. You never wanted him to feel like you didn't want him. If anything you thought it would have been the other way around.

“Babe, no! You're not doing anything wrong. I'm just.. kind of insecure about my body. I don't want to upset you.” You admit.

Todoroki is upset because he thinks you're stunning in every way and doesn’t want to accept the fact you don't see you're as highly as you should.

From that point forward he's more determined to make sure he does everything in his power to make you feel beautiful and comfortable in your own skin.

— [♡] ; izuku midoriya

“We can stop if you want to, bunny.” Izuku’s voice is gentle while he looks at you in concern.

He knew something was wrong the moment your body tensed up when his hands began to pull at your shirt so he immediately halted his actions to check on you.

“No.. I'm just..” You struggle to find your words and he could see that. It was tough for you to admit you had body insecurities to him because you've never told anyone how you really feel. You didn't like being vulnerable so you kept it all to yourself hoping that one day you'll magically wake up and love yourself but it doesn't work that way. You knew that.

“It's me.. your Midoriya. You can tell me anything, remember?” He gave you a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze on your leg.

“My body.. I don't..” You trailed off feeling more and more anxious.

Izuku wouldn't press you to continue speaking because he would already connect the dots. Not from just now but other behaviors he's noticed throughout his relationship with you. It all makes sense now.

He's also upset that he didn't figure this out sooner on his own so he could comfort and support you.

Izuku is very in touch with his emotions so it wouldn't surprise me if he starts tearing up at you. He'd immediately reassure you that you're beyond beautiful and he doesn't care about how your body looks, he never has. He just loves everything about you.

He doesn't expect for all your insecurities to disappear at his words either because he knows it doesn't work like that.

Izuku is 1000% ready and willing to help you build your confidence every step of the way.

You two would end up cuddling and just opening up to one another. You both pinky promised that whenever you two were going through something that you would say something so you can be there for each other.

— [♡] ; kirishima eijirou

“Are you sure, babe?” Kirishima pulled away from your hot and passionate kiss looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Of course, I want to make you feel good.” You kissed him again, hands beginning to unbuckle his belt but something seemed off. You pulled away and furrowed your brows in confusion at your boyfriend.

He looked like something was bothering him and it worried you. Have you done something to upset him?

“What's wrong..?” You sat on your knees between his legs resting your hands on his thighs.

“I feel like I'm using you.” He admits.

“Why do you feel that way?” You shook your head in confusion still not understanding what was bugging him.

“You're always so willing to please me but.. I never have the chance to return the favor.” He says sadly.

“Baby.. you're not using me please don't feel that way.” Your hand rested on the side of his cheek.

“I just figured that.. I'd only do things for you because I’m scared that you won't like my body if we do have sex.” You say.

Kirishima doesn't know whether to be angry at society's unachievable beauty standards or mad at himself for “failing” to make you feel beautiful and comfortable in your own skin.

Of course he was unaware of how you felt about your body but he still feels like a bad boyfriend. He thinks he should've known sooner so he could do something.. anything.

Kirishima 100% wrapping you up in his arms and smothering you in a hug because he feels like right now that's all he can do.

He's thinking a million thoughts but the only words that he can form are; “I love you.. and I think you're the most breathtaking person alive.”

He's giving you forehead kisses while he basically cradles you in his arms.

You feel like crying but you hold it in. It just feels really good to be loved for you by someone you're head over heels for.

— [♡] ; kaminari denki

Kaminari is your biggest hype man. You cut your hair? He's hyping you. You're wearing a new outfit? He's hyping you. You do the bare minimum? He's still hyping you.

It's literally

You: H-

Kaminari: “You have no business out here looking the way you do.”

When he finds out you're not happy with your body he almost thought it was a mean joke to play on him and yourself.

He genuinely can't wrap his head around you not loving yourself because he thinks you're beyond perfect, almost otherworldly.

You told Kaminari that you wanted to before having sex and he was 100% and willing to wait for you.

But here you were, a little tipsy straddling your boyfriend on the couch. Everything was going well until that little voice in your head continuously reminded you about your insecurities.

Kaminari takes notice of your sudden shift in energy.

“We can wait, baby! There's no pressure!” He's giving you a reassuring and cheerful smile. His cheeks were slightly rosy from the drinks he's had earlier in the night.

“No.. I want to.. It's just my body..”

“What about your body, baby?”

“I don't like it.”

This boy loses his shit.

Like what do you mean you don't like your body? You're the most beautiful person he's ever seen! Kaminari is still waiting the day he wakes up because he can’t believe that he landed such a babe like you!

He holds your face in his hands and gives you a whole speech with an introduction, body and conclusion on every single thing he loves about you.

Kaminari is determined to help you build your self esteem by any means.

He loves you and you should love yourself!

#my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #my hero academia x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shoto x reader #todoroki shouto imagine #todoroki shouto #izuku midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku #eijirou kirishima #eijirou kirishima x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #todoroki shouto x reader

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breakyeol · 4 years ago

Text

— SQUIRM, BABY.

You don’t like Doh Kyungsoo. Especially not when he’s got his fingers buried knuckle deep inside of you and your seeing stars —goddamn stars!— but can’t make a sound unless you want the entire library to know exactly what he’s doing to you under the table.

┗ Pairing: Tutor!Kyungsoo x Reader

Genre: college au, tutor au, enemies w benefits au, smut

Words: 4.7k

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, sexual acts in a public setting, fingering

A/N; tomorrow is going to be my 1 year anniversary as an EXO-L!! oh my goodness that feels so crazy, time really flies. so here is a little present from me to you, enjoy lovelies!!

“These are all wrong,” Kyungsoo mutters blankly, “start over.”

A loud groan is ripped from your throat, the sound earning you more than a few sideways glares from the surrounding tables but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been here for two hours, studying one of the most intolerable subjects in the world: Calculus. The mere mention of its name made you shiver in disgust.

To be blunt, you’d always been shit at math. Numbers and equations were never your strong suit, not in high school and definitely not now with the added complexities of derivatives and differential equations (neither of which made even the slightest bit of sense to you). You much preferred the gentleness of literature and history to the strict logic and rules of mathematics and science. Unfortunately for you, the latter subjects were just as vital a part of your education, and opting out of them was not an option.

“Can’t we take a break?” You almost whine the question, pressing your fingers into your throbbing temples. “My brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“No.”

You scowl at the bluntness of his rejection. “I’m paying you.” You point out, stabbing a finger into his bicep for emphasis. “Shouldn’t I have a say in when we take a break?”

He rolls his eyes, swatting your hand away and shoving the paper back in your direction. “I’m giving you your money’s worth. Do it again.”

You let out a noisy huff of air, slouching over dramatically in the stiff plastic chair until your chin is pressed against the cold table. “I hope you know I am deeply regretting some of my life decisions right about now.” You grumble, shooting him an icy glare that you hope conveys the absolute loathing you feel for both him and the set of problems laid before you.

“I thought that was a daily thing for you.”

Scoffing, you bury your mouth in the thick sleeve of your hoodie. “Your face is a daily thing for me.”

He doesn’t even bother to look at you, though you could almost feel the intensity of his deadpan. “I think that was the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“Your face is the shittiest comeback I’ve ever heard.”

“You do realize that that makes absolutely no sense.”

“Your fa—”

“Shut up and do your work.”

He either doesn’t hear or consciously chooses to ignore the colorful array of curses you grumble spitefully in his direction, though simultaneously resigning yourself to the fact that you won’t be able to put off your work inevitably. Kyungsoo was a stickler for proper time management. If he had an agenda set in place for your tutoring session (which he always did), then you better believe he’d be checking off each item within its designated time frame. And if you don’t cooperate— well then, your best bet is to pray that there isn’t a mechanical pencil within his reach.

He might not always be able to reach the top shelf, but Kyungsoo had ways of getting what he wanted. Usually, that chilling glare was enough to get those around him to bend to his will. He could be a scary little shit when he wanted to be. You’ll admit, even you had been the tiniest bit intimidated when you first met him. He was quiet, reserved, strict in manner, but also the dangerous unpredictable type, you gathered that much quickly enough. Maybe that’s why the two of you didn’t get on too well.

Where he was cool and standoffish, “a man of few words” some might say, you were more vocal about your opinions, social by nature, always eager to meet new people and make new connections. You had a tendency to speak loudly when excited and talk with your hands when passionate about a subject. That was something most people learned about you very quickly. Unfortunately, upon your first official meeting at a party in your freshman year with your mutual friends, Kyungsoo had no idea just how emphatic you could be until you’d knocked his drink clean out of his hand and spilled it down the front of his brand new shirt.

It was an accident, of course. You’d apologized profusely and he’d accepted it (albeit somewhat begrudgingly), but that was probably the first of many missteps in your... unique relationship.

With such conflicting personalities, it was understandable that you got into frequent arguments about one thing or another. Petty disagreements would often grow into something larger than they really needed to be. Mostly because despite having such contrasting personalities, you shared the trait of innate stubbornness, neither of you willing to admit when you were wrong. It was easy to argue with him, and you liked when you proved him wrong. You liked the way his brows furrowed and his cheeks flushed. You liked the way he glared, the way his lips pouted. You like the challenge he presented you with every time he opened his mouth. Above, you loved to win. Especially when it was against him.

So you pushed, and he pushed right back. And before you knew it, you found yourself a proper ‘frenemy’, though you aren’t sure that that’s quite the right word to describe whatever it was you two were.

But that’s just how the two of you are, how you’d always been. If you were being honest, riling him, seeing that usually so stoic, so controlled expression crack when you pushed just the right buttons— it was fun. You thoroughly enjoyed fucking with him, discovering new and creative ways to get under his skin. And you knew he got just as much satisfaction from doing the same to you, rendering you speechless with witty comebacks, flustering you with his sharp tongue and impressive rebukes.

So really, was it such a terrible thing?

Not to mention, a number of not-so-terrible things occurred as a result of one of your many arguments, such as hiring him as your calculus tutor. One that started out with you claiming he would probably be the shittiest teacher to ever exist (which seemed a valid argument at the time considering how short tempered and impatient he could be *cough* with you *cough*) to which he rebutted with the claim that he could “teach a goldfish advanced calculus” if he set his mind to it, and considering that you “had an IQ equivalent to one”, he could without a doubt teach you. His words, obviously.

It just so happened that you had a calculus exam coming up that next week, so to prove his point, he tutored you for the three days preceding said test. Even though you loathe being proven wrong, you ended up getting one of the highest scores you’d ever gotten on a math test in your entire academic career.

Putting your pride aside, you made the suggestion that he continue to tutor you. He only agreed when you offered him green in exchange for his troubles and admitted that he was right (it took a few extra hours to convince yourself that your grades should be held above your ego before you could bring yourself to verbally admit defeat).

And now here you are, not flunking out of calculus. You’d consider that worthy of the bruise to your pride, even if only by a small margin.

“Kyungsoo, why’d you mark this one wrong?” You frown at the large red X marking problem two as incorrect. You’d been glaring at your scribbled work for almost two minutes, running over the problem in your head, but you couldn’t seem to figure out where he thought you’d gone wrong. It looks right enough to you.

Kyungsoo shifts over to get a better look, his arms pressing against yours in the process and you are briefly stunned by the sudden, unexpected closeness, wholly unable to stop yourself from noticing the faint, woody scent of his aftershave that caresses your senses. Fuck. You can’t tell if you hate or love the fact that he smelled so good. Partly love it because good hygiene is always something to admire in a man (even if that man was Doh Kyungsoo), partly hate it because dammit it’s Doh Kyungsoo and you loathe finding anything that has to do with him attractive. Plus, it’s distracting. You’re here trying to learn and he has the audacity to go around smelling like pine trees and fresh moss after a rainfall. Unfair.

“Right here.”

The scowl you don’t realize you’re wearing immediately drops away as the low baritone of his voice thrums through the cavity of your ribcage and you lean forward to see exactly what he’s pointing at.

“You multiplied straight through instead of distributing.” He explains further upon seeing the uncertainty on your face. A few seconds of further inspection and you finally see what he’s talking about.

“Fuck,” you hiss, “I’m so stupid.”

“It’s an easy mistake to make.” He reassures.

“Yeah, but I should know that by now, I should’ve—” you turn your head, only to nearly choke on air as you discover that any space that once existed between the two of you has virtually disappeared, “... seen it.”

He’s close, so close that you can feel the cool rush of his breath against your skin as he exhales, goosebumps bristling across your arms in response. He’s close. Too close. You can’t think straight, can’t even breathe. The moment that surrounds you feels fragile, like even the slightest disruption would rupture it completely.

Frozen, you can only swallow around the sudden dryness of your mouth as your treacherous eyes drop to trace the plush line of his lips. Who even has lips like that? They’re just so big and so pink, that dark, kissable kind of pink that every girl just wishes her lips could be. You, included. They look soft, and you can’t help but to wonder if they’d still taste like the strawberry bubblegum he’d been chewing on at the beginning of your tutoring session.

“Careful, ___.” The sound of Kyungsoo’s voice, raspier than you recall it being before and laced in a faintly taunting pitch, is enough to break you from your trance and, once freed, you whip your head around fast enough to give yourself whiplash.

“Fuck off.” You cough, jaw clenching as you attempt to drag your mind out from the gutter and back onto the calculus problems you have yet to correct. But for whatever reason your brain refuses to cooperate, instead filling your head with images of his pretty mouth and everything it could be doing instead of rambling on about something as uninteresting as calculus. Damnit.

No doubt seeing the distress written clearly across your face, Kyungsoo chuckles, the sound low and smooth where it drips from his lips, and a familiar heat blossoms in the pit of your stomach.

You can feel his eyes on you now, every cell of your being suddenly hyperaware of his presence beside you. The pressure of his knee where it nudges against yours, the teasing curl of his lips as he watches you struggle to focus, the warmth of his palm caressing up your thigh, the— wait what?

Your gaze whips down, breath hitching at the sight of Kyungsoo’s hand gently gripping the lagging clad flesh just above your knee. It’s another few seconds before you’re able to find your voice again.

“W– What’re you—?”

“Focus.” He cuts you off smoothly, fingers soothing over the inside of your leg, squeezing gently. When you don’t look away from him, he smirks, jerking his chin forward in a manner you can only interpret as challenging. There’s a familiar glint in his eye, a dangerous glint that doesn’t fail to provoke your competitive side. You know that look well. He’s challenging you.

And you don’t back down from a challenge.

Especially not from Doh Kyungsoo.

Determination flairs up inside of you, your jaw clenching as you strike him with a single, heated glare that read plain and simple ‘you. are. on.’ before honing all your attention onto the worksheet in front of you. It’s not too difficult to focus at first, to disregard the tingles that erupt across your skin where his hot touch sears into it. You manage to find and correct your error in one of the problems (impressive for you even if Kyungsoo wasn’t feeling your leg up under the table).

But whatever pride you find in doing so is quickly quelled when his hand suddenly shifts higher, and you feel the faintest pressure against your heat. It’s a sensation that robs you of your ability to breathe entirely for a handful of seconds, and you can’t stop the shiver that ripples down your spine.

This, you see, is one of the more recent developments in your oh-so complicated relationship with Doh Kyungsoo. Yet another that began with a disagreement at a party, over something you can’t even remember anymore thanks to the haze of alcohol that clouded both your minds at the time, that spiraled way out of proportion. You remember yelling at him, insulting him, stabbing your finger into his chest, feeling the sting of his lethal glare. God, he’d looked so pissed off, and you just fed off of it, fed off the rage and the frustration that festered like lava in those dark brown eyes. The angrier he got, the harder you pushed, until he finally snapped.

You’re still not sure what you expected to happen. What you expected him to do. But you sure as hell hadn’t anticipated him grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into one of the hottest, most mind numbing kisses you’d ever experienced.

Next thing you remember is being in a bed. Whose bed it was, isn’t important. What is important, however, is the fact that that night you had the best sex of your entire life with the man you thought you couldn’t stand.

Hate sex with Doh Kyungsoo opened your eyes to a whole new world of mind boggling pleasure that you’d never experienced before. Pleasure that no other person had ever been able to give you. God, the things he did to you. No one had ever touched you like that before. It was like he knew all the places on your body that made you unravel. He honestly ruined all other men for you that night because none have even come close to comparing. Which was beyond frustrating especially considering that, at the time, you thought it was a one time thing.

The morning after you both pretended that nothing happened. In the two weeks following as well, neither one of you mentioned it. You tried to erase the memory from your brain, tried to go back to normal, but it was hard considering every time you needed some sexual release (which was more often than you care to admit), it was his hands, his mouth, his cock that you imagined while you touched yourself. You replayed his moans in your head, his deep, rasping voice growling your name, and fuck, you never came harder.

But it was still nothing compared to the real thing.

As time passed you only grew more and more frustrated. Worst of all, you could tell he was feeling it too. It was obvious in the way he looked at you, with fire burning in eyes, in the way he spoke to you, with a pitch of something hot and wanting in his voice, in the way he lost his cool far quicker and far more often than he had in the past, your arguments fiercer and more frequent than they’d ever been. The tension between the two of you was palpable, thick enough to be cut with a knife. It got to the point where even your most oblivious of friends started noticing it as well, though they knew better than to voice their curiosity.

The second time it happened, you were both sober and, somehow, it was even better than you remembered. The pleasure was more intense, more overwhelming, a feeling you can’t even put into words. Then it kept happening. Late at night when he’d show up unannounced at your door. Early in the morning when you had an important exam later in the day and you needed some pre-test de-stressing. Between classes in the back seat of his car just because you could. At parties when your friends were too shit faced to notice the two of you slipping into an unoccupied bedroom.

Just sex. That’s what you both agreed to when it became blatantly obvious that your little ‘arrangement’ wouldn’t be coming to an end any time soon. No strings. Just sex. Just really, really good sex.

And that was perfectly fine by you.

Exhaling shakily through your nose, you try to block out the feeling of his thumb as it begins to caress gently up and down your clothed core, suddenly very grateful for the layers of fabric that separate you from his intoxicating touch. But it’s a gratitude that’s short lived. Just as you manage to adjust and scribble down a correction, he cups his hand over your mound and squeezes. A gasp escapes you, and you try to cover up the sound with a series of short coughs, the sting embarrassment intertwining with the warmth of pleasure as a few eyes briefly glance in your direction.

“You’re such an asshole.” You hiss under your breath, thighs tightening around his hand, locking it in place.

He throws you a lopsided grin, brows lifting and you don’t miss the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I’ve been called worse.” What he means is you’ve called him worse.

Your lips part, but any intelligible words die on the tip of your tongue as he grinds the heel of his palm down, directly against your clit. Your head drops, eyes squeezing shut, teeth locking down firmly on your lower lip in order to silence the soft moan that threatens to break free.

“F- fuck.”

You hear him coo tauntingly beside you at your slip, the tips of his skilled fingers easily locating your entrance and prodding experimentally. At this point, you don’t doubt he can feel the fabric of your leggings growing hot and wet with your arousal.

Despite being used to the quick effect he had on your body, you can help but to feel the slightest twinge of shame at how he was able to rile you up this much with little more than a few well-placed strokes of his fingers. But fuck, it felt so good. You’d already been feeling somewhat deprived since you’d both been so busy this past week with exams and projects and what not. This is the first time you’re spending time with him since almost a week ago.

And you are in need of a fix.

“You look like you’re having a bit of trouble on that problem. Do you need my help?” Kyungsoo leans into you, his face right up next to yours, and you have to resist the sudden urge to kiss him right then in there in front of everyone in the stupid library.

Instead, you grit out an unconvincing, “I’m fine,” and force yourself to stay focused on the dizzying mess of numbers and letters on the worksheet in front of you and not on the delicious warmth of his hand where it is applying just the right amount of pressure to keep you teetering between pleasure and the insatiable need for more.

“You sure?” There’s a certain lightness to his voice that tells you he is thoroughly enjoying watching you struggle. Sadistic bastard.

“Positive.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You almost gasp as a rush of cold air fills the places he had been, and you can’t help the frown that tugs at the corners of your lips, disappointment and irritation coloring your features before you can reel them in. From the corner of your eye, you chance a glance in his direction. The smug, knowing little smirk staining his lips sends a wave of heat pulsing into your cheeks, and you grit your teeth in frustration.

“So what, you’re just going to stop?” You whisper sharply, not making any attempt whatsoever to hide your annoyance.

A look of feigned innocence overcomes his features. “You said you didn’t need my help.”

You grit your teeth, glaring at him as hard as you can manage with how incredibly turned on you are. But he remains unfazed.

“If you want my help,” he continues, voice dropping an entire octave, “you’re going to have to ask for it... nicely.”

Nice wasn’t a word in your vocabulary when Kyungsoo was involved.

Seeing the resistance you are still putting up, he feathers his fingers over your thigh, tracing slow designs across the thin, black fabric. You swallow, unable to look away as they trail dangerously higher, teasing closer to where you both knew you wanted them most.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

Fuck, you want it so bad.

You know that he knows you want it. It’s just the getting yourself to actually say it out loud part that proves to be a challenge. But that’s exactly what he wants you to do, he wants to hear you say it, wants to see you cast aside your stubborn pride and beg for it. Beg for him.

Lifting your eyes, you glance unsurely around the library. It isn’t overly crowded anymore since most of the other students have begun to trickle out as late afternoon approaches. Plus, the table you were seated at was tucked into the far back corner of the room, secluded and out of the way. But still, your nerves buzzed at the thought of someone seeing. Though maybe — just maybe — there was a buzz of something else as well. Excitement, perhaps?

Grip tightening around your pencil, you chewed on the corner of your lip, refusing to meet Kyungsoo’s penetrating gaze as you let out a soft murmur. “...ease.”

He leans closer, mirth shimmering in his eyes. “What was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Groaning, you shoot him a scowl, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Please help me, asshole.”

Laughter bubbles at his lips, the genuine kind that makes his cheeks lift and his nose wrinkle. You like it when he laughs like that. Makes him look a lot less like a serial killer.

Sinking his teeth into the pillowy flesh of his lower lip to stifle his laughter, he shoots you a lazy grin, “that’s all you had to say.”

Next thing you know, his hand is slipping beneath the elastic of your leggings and into the soft cotton confines of your underwear. Your mouth fell open, a sharp inhale filling your lungs with cold air as his fingers slid through your slick folds.

“I knew you were wet but shit.” He hisses, thick brows furrowing at the feeling of your heavy arousal coating the length of his digits. “I must say, I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” you breathe, eyes fluttering, “even Chanyeol can get me this— ngh!”

Without warning, he plunges his middle finger inside of you, and the remainder of your sentence pitches into a strangled moan. One look at his face, jaw clenched, nostrils flared, lips down turned, tells you he isn’t all too pleased at the mention of another man’s name, especially when he’s the one buried knuckle deep in your greedy cunt.

A hazy smirk curls onto your lips and you let out a low hum of pleasure, walls squeezing around him. “You’re sexy when you’re mad.”

“Is that why you enjoy pissing me off so much?” He questions, tone biting and low, and you shutter involuntarily as he rolls the pad of his thumb harshly over your aching clit.

“Partly.” You admit, somewhat breathless. “But you’re also just a really fun person to piss off.”

He chuckles dryly in response, though the sound lacks any genuine amusement. “You are such a brat, you know that?” He emphasizes the word by stretching you around a second finger, and you have to drop your pencil in favor of clasping your hand over your mouth, unable to swallow down the soft whimpers that tremble up your throat.

“You love it.” You manage to get out before you’re forced to bite into the tender flesh of your palm to muffle a desperate cry when the slow thrusts of his digits suddenly picks up speed. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, hips jerking up to grind your throbbing clit against the heel of his palm. Electricity ricochets through your veins, and you feel that distinctive tightening in the pit of your stomach. Kyungsoo also feels the way you throb and clench around him, and makes sure to grind down hard against your swollen clit.

Heat immediately spreads through your core, the intensity of the pleasure becoming more than you can handle. “Oh god, Kyungsoo.” Your voice comes out louder than you intended, and you quickly duck your head, doing your best to make it seem like you’re focusing on your work and not the fingers drilling relentlessly into your g-spot, praying to god that no one had seen the blissed out expression on your face. Still, you can’t help the quiet whine that escapes you when his ministrations slow.

“Are you trying to get us caught?” He asks in less than a whisper, breath hot against the shell of your ear. “Ever hear of subtlety?”

“Ever hear of suck my dick?” You snap back without missing a beat, only to jolt as his fingers curl inside of you, pressing directly against that sensitive bundle of nerves. Every muscle in your body tenses, and fuck you’re so close you can almost taste it. Frantically, you thrust your hips, desperately trying to fuck yourself down on his digits.

“Sit still.” He growls, and you quiver when he sinks his teeth into the lobe of your ear, obeying only because you really don’t want to get banned from the campus library if someone happened to catch on.

“Soo— fuck,” the force with which you bite into your lip is nearly about to break the skin, but you can’t be bothered by the pain, not with how quickly your orgasm was approaching. Sensing as much, Kyungsoo goes the extra mile of drawing hard, fast figure eights over your clit with his thumb while simultaneously thrusting his fingers into you so fast that you swear you can almost hear it.

All at once fire roars through your veins, euphoria consuming you as your high crashes over you. Your walls spasm around his digits, painting them with your release.

He doesn’t withdraw from you until you go slack, thighs spreading, body slumping back in your chair, eyes fluttering as a hazy, blissed out smile touches your lips. You can only watch through hooded lids as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, sighing in amazement as he sucks them clean. There’s a twinge of arousal in your core as he moans softly at the taste of you on his tongue, a downright lethal sound that somehow manages to rouse your positively spent pussy.

This man is going to be the absolute death of you one of these days.

“Fuck.” You chuckle airily, heady gaze flickered over him lazily, only to do a double take when you notice something standing upright beneath the zipper of his jeans. The corners of your lips twirled into a mirthful grin, eyebrows raising slowly.

“Need some help with that?”

“Yes.” He answers shamelessly and without hesitation, grunting softly as he adjusts himself in the tight confines of his jeans to make the raging hard-on he’s sporting somewhat less obvious. “But not here.”

“I figured. So... your car or mine?”

“Didn’t you just get a new one with reclining seats?” He questions, running the tip of his tongue over the seam of his lip at the mere implication.

You strike him with a wicked grin, already beginning to shove your things into your bag. “I did indeed.”

“Then what are we— wait.”

“What?”

“You didn’t finish correcting the worksheet yet.” He points out, drumming his fingers across the paper that had completely slipped your mind.

You pull a face, pausing in the act of gathering your belongings long enough to cross your arms pointedly over your chest. “No offense, Kyungsoo, sweetheart, but I’d much rather suck your dick than do one more of those stupid fucking calc problems.”

His brows leap to his hairline, and he offers a single nod of acceptance, in no position to argue with such a valid point.

“Noted.”

804 notes · View notes

jeagerism · 4 years ago

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(i tried writing this mostly for @sallysoot dodisid) but since it's like canon that philza was techno's mentor as a kid and into adulthood, i'll just say

don't think abt being the third counterpart in the sibling-ship that tommy and wilbur have. don't think abt techno coming over all the time to train with phil - which was good, because whenever techno came over, phil stayed around. it was almost like he was an actual father, nevermind how much it stung to see him ruffle techno's hair whenever he did something that made him proud. he doesn't speak much, at least not to you. sometimes you catch the rumble of his voice as he asks wilbur a question, or answers to tommy's increasingly whiney begs to hold his sword. don't imagine feeling a tugging at your chest whenever techno let's his shoulders fall, releasing tension from keeping his guard up, rays of sun casting a pretty glow onto his face during the summer.

don't imagine how you notice that he always looked empty, for someone so young. how he always kept his face covered by that familiar mask, never let himself reveal whatever lied underneath to any of you. all you knew of him were striking eyes and thin pink lips. don't imagine how, one day, months after his first appearance, you're looking out from the kitchen, gazing at the snow that lay in blankets around your family's home. and you see him. phil had said he was dismissed hours ago, but there he was, still going. huffing, you reach over onto the table in front of wilbur, taking the unattended mug of tea you'd made minutes ago, and starting towards the door. your brother doesn't mutter a word, too enamoured with the book in front of him - you're pretty sure he'd snuck into phil's study earlier, but you'll let him do what he wishes. it wasn't as if the older would notice.

don't imagine slipping your coat around your shoulders as you step out, thin socks soaking through to your bare feet as they meet the snowy ground. keeping a hand over the top of the mug, you stumble awkwardly over to the area where he's always occupied in front of your home, for months now. you begin to set the cup onto the bench you frequent on days warm enough to come out and watch - nothing but simple curiosity - when a frustrated cry rings throughout the empty space, bouncing off of nearby trees and echoing back to you. turning, your fingers become loose around the ceramic.

don't imagine seeing techno sling the mask off, tossing it to the side with disdain. as he begins to face where you're standing, your fingers slip from around the hot mug, liquid arching up and back down onto your feet, splashing parts of your legs.

cursing, you yank the cup from the floor. when you look back up, startling ruby eyes meet your own. they all but steal the air from your chest. there's a shake in your legs as you swallow, gathering as much confidence you can into the swell of your throat as you speak. "sorry, i was, well, i...its cold and i had tea and then." you shake your head, trying to clear thoughts of the way his cheeks looked so pink from the cold - his hair nearly matched. "im sorry." once you're back inside the confines of your home, back pressed to the spruce of the door, you release air you weren't aware you were holding. tommy asks why you look so shocked. wilbur snickers to himself, but when you open your eyes to glare at him, he's only giving you a coy smile. the book he had is closed in his lap.

don't imagine the months of that winter after that being spent inside, never even daring to go too close. don't imagine the spring that comes after, slowly bleeding into another summer, an entire year of the presence of technoblade. don't imagine continuing watching countless training sessions from the same bench you'd finally seen him from - memorizing the way his hair looks really pretty the way it is now - long enough to be put into a ponytail that gathers at the nape of his neck, baby hairs slicked to the skin with sweat.

don't imagine going between watching the combat in front of you and paying attention to the enchanted book wilbur had given you as a gift days before. you'd found it strange at the time - you hadn't thought wilbur listened much to the rambling you did about wanting to train yourself - but you'd let it go anyways, accepting the leather bound book.

don't imagine techno sitting on the bench you stay on to watch as he learns, taking a moment to breathe, dragging a hand down his face. and you're in awe. you'd always been starstruck at seeing him, but this is new. now he's up close. and it's just you and him, for now. the only interaction the two of you have come close to is the singular nod he gives you when he enters your kitchen - he seldom does this. you think it's because he doesn't want to intrude. as if he could. he was pretty much royalty around here, with how much tommy droned on about how cool he was, and how many times wilbur had mumbled in agreements to that.

don't imagine the way his head tilts to the side as his shoulders rise and fall with a quiet breath. how he softly speaks your name. and you're confused, because you've never introduced yourself, yet he knows your name. to be fair, he'd never directly introduced himself to you either, but you'd peeked your head around the corner on one of his first days here, and had heard phil ask a simple, "how was your trip here, techno?" don't imagine how he'd quirk an eyebrow up at your gaping silence, a hand reaching out before it drops back down to his lap. he coughs out, "i, um, i'm technoblade."

"i know." your hands are tingling with nervousness, because he's close, and he smells like pine and parchment paper, and his hair looks really soft. don't imagine him scratching the back of his neck, shaking his head the tiniest bit. he did that a lot, you noticed. most often when phil let him take a short break from whatever he was being taught. sometimes he'd mutter a few words, always harsh whispers, before standing straight as if he'd cleared his head with the action.

"do i....scare you?" don't imagine the way he looks embarrassed to even be asking, fingers curling round the old, chipped wood he's sitting on. he'd abandoned the red cape he normally donned earlier on, now just sporting his signature white button up, sleeves unbuttoned at the ends and pushed up to his elbows.

you let out a shocked chuckle. "um, no? i mean, i don't think there's much to be scared of." you want to say how nothing as pretty as him could be scary. intimidating, sure, but not scary in the slightest. "i simply have habits of embarrassing myself in front of people i barely know."

don't imagine the quiet invitation of, "i'd be more than happy to know you."

and so it is. don't imagine how his eyes seem to find yours at least once through every session he has from that point on. he's still not as talkative - in fact, you spend more time in silence than anything, but it's nice. it's comforting. when you're not outside to watch, he begins stopping by the kitchen window that opens directly over the sink. you hand him a bottle of water whenever you see the pink head of hair pop up over the window sill.

don't imagine watching him grow - a thin, wire framed face growing into itself, long legs that he often tripped over at moments growing steady. he grows along side you and tommy and wil; techno teaches them what phil had always refused to. he teaches you himself in quiet moments shared between the two of you. brings you gifts as a thank you for helping him with extra training, as if he wasn't the one teaching you most things.

one evening, after he's ran and fought himself dry, the length of his hair crowding his face - you'd considered telling him of how awfully pretty he looked with long hair. you'd bitten your tongue when any chance had presented itself.

technoblade had always been a friend; he'd been the one to teach you how to make stew properly, had bandaged your finger when you'd burnt it from not paying close enough attention to how close your hand had been to the flame. you remember the way his hands had shook as he'd wrapped the fabric around your fingers. he'd stumbled and tripped all over his words as he'd scolded you.

the evening brings about the chirping of nearby pond animals and the clanking of whatever lay in the woods after sundown. techno takes a seat on the ground beside your bench, shoulder knocking into your calf. staring hard at the hair gathered around his neck, you wet your lips. "can i braid your hair?"

you don't reach out to touch him until he gives you a gentle nod. that was one thing about him - he hated being touched. the only person you'd ever seen touch him was phil, and he'd always let his shoulders brush his ears in embarrassment when that happened.

you shift your body towards him, gathering the amount of hair in your hands, letting it lay across your lap in bunches. as you begin weaving strands between each other, technoblade sighs. "wilbur told me about the land - manburg?"

you click your tongue at him with a soft laugh. "l'manburg", you correct, "and yeah. they've already uh, got people there. started building and stuff." you furrow your brows at the strands of pink hair in your hands. "its good. i mean, i always wanted more for them than this. and they always knew they deserved more."

"so do you." he's still as you loop the last remaining tufts of hair around each other. "and it wouldn't be so bad to have you a little closer."

you try not to pay too much attention to the warmth that blooms in your chest, rising to your ears, across your cheeks. "as if you're not here all the time anyways," you chastise, flipping the end of his braid off your lap. you can feel his eyes follow you as you scoot back to your original spot, gathering the things you'd carried out when you'd sat to watch him at the start. sighing, you meet his gaze with a dead stare. "i will consider it."

techno hums, rising to his feet with the noise. tugging the things you're holding from your grasp, transferring them into his own hold, he nods. "good."

don't imagine the way he helps you move all your stuff into chests weeks after, loading them onto the horse you'd helped him find on the eve of his last birthday. he let's you ride with him for every trip to drop your stuff off to where you'll be living - a small cottage not too far from where he is. on the final trip he helps you down with a hand held out for you to grab, pulling you in close for a moment before he leads you inside.

don't imagine the way he stays with you the first night until sundown, dismissing every worry of the dangers he may face on his way home in the dark. he stays on your couch, sandwiched in between you and the corner of the cushioned material.

"don't worry your head over it", he tells you to quiet your worries, "i'll be fine. im technoblade, remember?" when you roll your eyes at his antics, he bumps his shoulder into yours with a grin. "you act as if you want me to leave so badly."

you scoff into the mug of tea he'd prepared for you after the two of you had set nearly everything up. "whatever", you say, before clearing your throat. "you're ridiculous."

when you fall asleep he's sitting next to you, and when you wake he's gone. there's a red cloak around your shoulders that slips down at your wake - you lift it to your nose with a sleepy smile. pine and parchment.

the next day, he stops by around noon with extra supplies. he's got nothing but that white button up on, and when he sees the cloak draped over your lap as he carries things in, he shakes his head with a breathy, barely there laugh.

don't imagine the way things change. he's with you nearly every night - he makes you food, tells you about his day, listens intently when you tell him of yours over bites of bread and stew. he's always there as you fall asleep. most days he's gone before morning light. others you wake to his rumbled humming as he slips on his shoes to start his day.

the days tommy and wilbur visit, he still shows up. makes conversation with the two over the plans for the nation. often times you catch them hurriedly wrapping up a hushed conversation of serious whispers when you reenter the room. techno's brows always furrow, a crease forming between them that you always want to smooth out with your finger.

when they leave, those are the times he seems troubled. sometimes so terribly inside his own mind that he doesn't flinch when you accidentally brush against him. other nights, when it's just the two of you, he complains he's messed up his hair, because no one does it like you, and spends the minutes it takes you to redo it humming and poking into your calves.

don't imagine the day he visits that he knows something is off.

your mouth if pursed into a frown, something troublesome brewing within. but he carries on as he normally does. an unspoken rule between the two of you - the two of you would talk about bothersome things when either of you chose.

as he sets down the plate in front of you, you catch his wrist with your hand. he tenses for a second, and you give him a regretful glance. "sorry", you call out, and he nods, sitting beside you as he normally does - side to side.

"you knew they were starting a war." it's not a question. your fingers dig into the cushions of the couch. the fire crackling across the room fills the silence after your words.

"i did."

"it's not fair." a sigh. "you should've told me."

"i know." it's his turn to apologise, as his pinkie knocks against your thigh. "i'm sorry."

"it's not as if i wouldn't have been able to handle it."

he wets his lips. "i know." tapping his pinkie against your thigh again, he sucks in a breath. "i was selfish, with you. i didn't want you to worry." you lean your head onto his shoulder; he rests his own atop yours. "im always selfish with you."

just as the last embers of the fire begin to burn, your pinkie wraps around his own.

don't imagine months of travesty involving the land. countless nights of curling into the shoulder of your best friend with whispered doubts. he always quiets them with a brush of his lips against your forehead and a soft "technoblade never dies, you know."

don't imagine seeing techno one night. he's quieter than normal, doing that same old dance of shaking his head, mumbled whispers and sharp breaths. but the grip he has on your pinkie is constant, the same as it always is. the weight of his arm around your shoulders is just as warm as it always is. hands engulfing yours as he fiddles with your fingers, countless unintelligible words and heavy sighs.

"you're sighing a lot for someone who's never worried." your comment seems to jumpstart him again, as he tsks at you.

"well, i'm not worried." a few beats pass. "i'm...contemplating."

"contemplating what?" you glance up at him, eyebrows raised. he shrugs - you think you've seen him shrug a handful of times since you met him. if he ever didn't want to answer something, he just didn't. and if he did, he was always as straight forward as one could be.

you let go of the topic regardless, standing a few minutes later to carry glasses back to the kitchen. the warm water runs over your hands as you rinse away leftover drinks from the cups. once your finished, you shut the water off with a hum, shaking your hands into the sink below you.

when you turn around, he's standing there, eyes slightly widened, his cheeks pink like the cold had been nipping away at him. "techno?"

"you know that i", he shakes his head, eyes darting from every thing they could land on except you. "that i, um."

"are you o-"

"im selfish with you." he breathes the words out like a prayer. "i am, and i...ever since i saw you drop that stupid mug on the floor i've been...all i've known is you."

you swallow as he takes a step closer to where you are. you feel the cold metal of the sink through your shirt. "im really, really selfish and it's even more selfish of me to tell you, but i." techno let's his eyes fall on your face. "i don't want to have missed out on ever telling you that. i don't want that moment to pass me by."

"does this mean i get to keep the cloak?"

and he laughs. the type of laugh that you know means he's caving in on himself, hands twitching, throat dry. "if....if you want to. it's kind of...always been yours anyways?"

"techno."

"yeah?"

"will you kiss me?"

you don't have to ask him twice. the weight of his palm on your cheek is warm, and you'll always wonder how his hands are so soft with all that he does. his fingers take their place along your jaw to tilt your head up; and he's kissing you like a man starved.

when he parts from you with bubblegum cheeks and a small smile, you laugh. that night, he stays. he presses another warm kiss to your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead. you fall asleep with your head tucked into the crook of his neck.

don't imagine opening your eyes the next morning to the sun. it casts shadows and patterns from where it enters the window. when you look up, he's glowing just like he did when you were kids. he's more now, longer hair, his features sharp and mouth pulled down into a permanent straight line. you think he's harder, somehow, but the light softens out all of his harsh edges just fine.

don't imagine ignoring the fact that he probably needs to be up - that he has some meeting with wilbur to attend, some kind of planning for whatever is happening next. you turn into his embrace once more, letting his arm tug you closer as he breathes out slowly.

you'll be selfish with him for a bit more.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #techno x you #techno x reader #mcyt x reader

269 notes · View notes

luxekook · 4 years ago

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good boy ❂ hjs

❂ pairing: han jisung x reader (ft. hyunjin, changbin, & minho)

❂ genre: smut (pretty much a pwp), slight fluff, crack

❂ summary: in which you encounter a baby boy in your kitchen and you just have to make him yours

❂ word count: 3.4k (this was supposed to be a *drabble* lol)

❂ warnings: 18+, cursing, dom/sub themes (dom!reader & sub!jisung), alcohol, smut [sex toys (cock ring), teasing, biting, spitting, edging, jisung being whiny, oral (m receiving), noona kink, voyeurism, nipple piercings]

“So, you’re saying you could get any girl in here?”

You scowl as you overhear this inane conversation happening in your very kitchen. When your roommate Jisoo said she wanted to have a few people over, you should have known she had really meant that she was going to invite the entire damn university.

Your small apartment is now overrun with co-eds, and you are planning to escape right back to your room once you finish grabbing your wine from the fridge. Parties aren’t really your thing. You prefer smaller and more intimate gatherings. But then again, your tastes have always been peculiar.

Which leads you to where you are right now, dressed only in your friend Soobin’s stolen t-shirt and your tiniest pair of sleep shorts, glaring over at the small group of gossiping boys across your kitchen island.

“Of course!” One of the boys nods, his full cheeks flushing. He’s admittedly cute with wide eyes and pouty lips. His hair is a mess of dark brown with lighter streaks mixed in. His whole vibe is amusingly at odds with his words.

“He’s such a sub,” You conclude, chuckling slightly. You’re pretty sure the only thing that boy can get from any girl in your place tonight is a thorough punishment.

You’re too deep in your analysis to notice that you had spoken aloud until you’re faced with four boys - three of which look entertained as hell and the fourth looks like he either wants to run away or to fight you.

“Can I help you boys?” You sigh, cradling your wine to your chest. This is why you should have bought a mini fridge - less social interaction.

“You think Han’s a sub?” The tallest boy grins at you, “Why?”

You smile slightly back up at him. He’s handsome, with striking eyes and a sexy as hell lip ring.

“I am not a sub,” Han whines, recapturing your attention with a glare and a vicious pout. “Take that back!”

God, he’s adorable. Your lips twitch as you try to remain impassive. You haven’t seen such a bratty boy since your last sub had graduated over the summer. And now you’ve been without one for about a month now… Maybe things could be looking up for you.

Maybe you’ll play with him and see.

“No,” You say, shrugging slightly, “I don’t see what’s so bad about being a sub anyway. Baby boys are always very well taken care of, Hannie.”

Two of the boys choke on their drinks, the one who had talked to you earlier gasps, and Han flushes bright red, his mouth opening and closing.

You grin wickedly at his speechlessness and saunter right up to him. Rising to your tiptoes, you lean into his body and whisper into his ear, “If you change your mind, my room is right down the hall, baby boy.”

You nip his earlobe lightly and then pull back. “Night, boys,” You wave with a smile as you exit the kitchen, sending a wink at Han who looks shell shocked.

And as you make your way down the hall, you hear, “Fuck me.”

You just hope he asks you that later.

Almost an hour later, your wine is halfway gone, and you’ve pretty much given up all hope on your prospective sub. Sighing, you take another sip of your pinot and contemplate going against all of your principles and venturing back out into the throes of the party.

And then you hear the lightest of knocks on your bedroom door. Your smile is immediate. Setting your glass down, you hop off your bed and pad over to open your door. Sure enough, Han stands there looking like he might bolt at any second.

You wait for him to speak first and watch gleefully as he fidgets under your gaze.

“S-sorry,” He finally mutters, turning away from you, “This was stupid. You obviously were just messing with me. God, now I look like a dumbass, and Hyunjin will never let me live this d—”

You take pity on the poor boy, grabbing his wrist and tugging him into your room. Shutting the door behind him, you point to your bed.

“Sit,” You order and internally squeal in excitement when he complies without hesitation. The way his wide brown eyes are gazing up at you makes you melt, but you keep it together. “Now, why did you decide to come visit me, Hannie?”

“Jisung,” He blurts out and then ducks his head, blushing.

“Jisung,” You test it out slowly, and he reacts, shuddering slightly. “You like it when I say your name, huh?”

“Yes, noona,” He nods, gaze still on the floor. You gently place two fingers under his chin and lift his face up to look at him.

“Jisungie,” You murmur, “Have you been asking about me out there? How do you know that I’m older than you?”

He blinks up at you, “I asked Jisoo-noona, and she said you’re in the same level as her.”

“Jisoo,” Your eyes narrow, and then you refocus on the situation at hand, “Now, Jisungie, I’ll only ask you one more time. Why are you in my room?”

You feel him swallow beneath your fingertips. “I-I don’t know,” He tries.

“Really,” you arch an eyebrow, swiping your thumb across the seam of his lips.

“Fine!” Jisung’s glare is as cute as it is fierce, “I’m here because you’re really hot even though you’re kind of scary and you embarrassed me in front of my friends and you might be out of my league and—”

You put your palm across his mouth, silencing him. “Oh, baby boy. Are you here because you think I’ll give you something? That’s not how this works, Jisungie. Subs have to earn their rewards, you see; and I don’t think you’ve earned one just yet.”

“How can I earn one?” He begs as soon as you take your hand away, “Please, noona. I’ve been half hard since you walked in the kitchen looking like you had just been fucked… But now I know it’s more likely that you had been the one to do the fucking.”

Oh my. Your mind connects the dots. “Baby boy, is that why you were making such outrageous claims?”

“Well,” He pouts, “I wouldn’t call them ‘outrageous’...” He notices your unimpressed expression and sighs, “Fine. Yes. I wanted to impress you, okay? Clearly that backfired.”

You can’t help yourself. You lean over Jisung and cup his cheeks in your hands, “Aw, you’re just so cute, Sungie. What am I going to do with you? No… more like what am I going to do with you first?”

Jisung squirms under you, bringing your attention to the growing bulge in his tight jeans.

“Are you drunk, lovely?” You purr, running your hands down his chest.

“N-no, noona,” His breath catches as you drag your hands farther down, teasing the waistband of his jeans.

“Do you have a safe-word?” You pause your ministrations and look into his eyes to assess his level of comfort.

“Damn,” He breathes, “You’re gonna fuck up my shit good, aren’t you, noona?”

You roll your eyes to the ceiling, “Not if you keep saying things like that.”

“Noted,” He salutes you with a smile and you glare. Straightening, you walk over to your drawer of fun.

“I’m still not hearing a safe-word, baby,” You call over your shoulder.

“Um,” His face scrunches up adorably as he thinks, “Yosemite?” You laugh slightly as you peruse your collection of sex toys. You had a poster from that National Park on your wall.

“Yosemite, it is,” You say, finally choosing your toy for the night. You flex the cock ring between your fingers. Oh yes, this would work just fine. “Baby,” You turn back to Jisung as he still sits on your bed. Your eyes immediately fall to his hands as they press into his crotch. “What are you doing?”

Jisung takes his hands away immediately, “Sorry, noona. You’re just so sexy.” His stare burns into your bare legs. And then he notices what you’re holding. “Oh, fuck.”

You laugh, “You’ll love it, baby. Promise. Now, I’m going to wash this, and when I get back, I want you stripped and laying on my bed, okay?”

He nods furiously. “Good boy,” You praise, and you almost sigh at the way he lights up at your words. How in the world has this boy not been claimed yet?

You head into your bathroom and take your time washing the ring. Even though you haven’t used this one yet, it still doesn’t hurt to be careful. Patting the cock ring dry, you reenter the bedroom and take in the sight before you.

Jisung is spread out on your bed, his cock hard against his stomach. His hands are clenched at his sides as he seems to be trying his hardest not to touch himself. You walk over to him, running your hand up his body as you go and then leaning down to place the lightest of kisses on his lips.

Pulling back, he tries to follow your mouth and you laugh, “Oh no, Sungie, you’ll take what I give you, and no more. Got it?”

He nods, not looking too pleased.

“I want your words, baby,” Your thumb pads over his nipple and he hisses a breath in between his teeth.

“Y-yes, noona,” He whines, already desperate for your touch.

“Good. Now, Sungie, have you ever used a cock ring before?” You ask, stretching the object in question out in front of you.

“No, noona,” Jisung bites his lip, squirming a bit on your bed as he stares at the way your fingers play with the ring. “But I want to try.”

“Okay, baby boy,” You kiss him again and he moans into your mouth as your tongue slides out to brush over his full lower lip. Pulling back slightly, you murmur, “Remember your safe-word, lovely.”

His wide eyes blink up at you and you can’t resist kissing him once more, this time nibbling his lip between your teeth and drawing a delicious whine from his throat.

You straighten and walk to the foot of the bed. Climbing up, you straddle Jisung’s legs and set the cock ring down to the side for now. “Ready, baby boy?”

“Fuck yes!”

You shoot him a look and he gulps, “I-I mean, yes, noona!”

God, he looks so good sprawled out underneath you, at your mercy. Even his cock is pretty, a feat you honestly hadn't been sure was possible. Oh, you are going to wreck this boy.

You lean over his cock and let your spit drip from your mouth and onto his length. Jisung moans as he watches you with dark eyes, his pupils blown out. “Noona is filthy,” He groans as you finally wrap your hand around him and slowly move it up and down to coat him fully.

Leaning down, you lick the bead of precum from the head of his cock and smirk at the low whine that Jisung makes in response. Gripping him tightly, you take more of his hard cock into your mouth and suck. You bob up and down, continuing to squeeze his base and his balls in your hands.

Jisung is quite vocal, you discover, as he moans your name in between what seems like every curse word under the sun. You swallow around him and almost laugh as he cries, “Fucking Christmas tree!”

You release him and giggle, “Christmas tree?”

“Noona,” He whines, “Don’t judge me. I can’t think when your mouth is on me.”

You just shake your head at the beautiful boy beneath you and then tell him, “Let me know when you’re about to come, okay?”

He nods swiftly, eagerly anticipating his release. Oh, what a mistake, you grin internally. You lick your way up his shaft from base to tip and then take him back into your mouth. You don’t take it slow like before; you blow him hard. Your hands squeeze him and you swallow him over and over.

His legs are shaking underneath you as his moans pick up in volume. You wonder if his friends can hear him now. Honestly, they’re probably right outside your door right now, you think. Might as well give them a good show to listen to…

“I-I’m gonna come,” Jisung groans, his hips thrusting up shallowly. You immediately tighten your grip around his base and remove your mouth from him.

Jisung gasps, “N-no! Please, I’m so close!”

You pay him no mind, grabbing the cock ring from beside you. “Do you remember your safe-word, Jisung?” You ask, pausing to make sure he’s still okay with what you plan to do.

“Ye-es, noona,” His teeth bite down on his lower lip as he looks at you desperately.

“And do you want to use it now?” You aren’t sure of his limits and you don’t want to push him too far.

“No, noona,” His eyes narrow resolutely, “Give it to me.”

“Oh, baby boy,” You grin, “I will.” Slowly, you slide the ring down his cock with ease after having thoroughly sucked him off already. “If this gets too tight, tell me right away, okay, baby?”

He nods, “F-feels good. Tight.” Your eyebrows raise. Does Jisung even know what cock rings are used for? You might have to pay closer attention to him than you thought.

You take him back into your mouth and his hips immediately thrust up. You push him down with your hands firmly pressed to his hips. You feel him swelling in your mouth as the blood gathers, no doubt making him more sensitive than before.

“A-ah, noona!” Jisung moans. His hand latches into your hair as your mouth sinks up and down on his cock. “G-gonna come, please.”

Oh, baby… You nod despite knowing his impending disappointment. He would learn quickly. You take him deeper than before, your nose brushing his pelvis, and he comes without the rush of relief that usually accompanied the sensation.

You pull back, watching as his face contorts in an array of emotions in a short moment - elation, confusion, frustration, dissatisfaction. “N-noona,” He cries, looking down at you in horror, “What—?”

Gripping him lightly, you marvel at the thickness of his length and the veins that pop out, more pronounced than before.

“You’re so pretty, Sungie. So good for me, baby,” You murmur as his eyes squeeze shut just from the mere stimulation of your palm surrounding him. You kiss his cock, worshipping it with your mouth, with your tongue.

“Noona,” Your eyes flick up to look at Jisung’s face. Tears are leaking from his eyes as his chest heaves. “Please. Have to come so bad, it hurts.”

You release him and he sobs, “No-o! Noona!” His hands grip his cock, but he’s so sensitive that he releases it immediately. More tears flow from his wide eyes as he pleads, “Please, noona, please.”

You aren’t even sure he knows what he’s asking for; and so you decide to present him with some options.

“Baby boy,” You press kisses up his stomach, his chest, and finally to his cheeks. Wiping his tears, you gently kiss his lips. “Do you want to come in noona’s mouth or on her tits?”

Jisung’s eyes widen more than you thought possible as he practically yells, “Tits! Please, let me come on noona’s tits!”

Placing one last kiss on his lips, you move back down his body and tug your shirt over your head.

“Fuck,” Jisung breathes as his eyes immediately drop to your chest, taking in your pierced nipples. “Noona, you’re so beautiful, so fine.”

“Oh, baby boy,” You laugh, “You’re so sweet.”

“Not sweet,” He scowls, “I’m strong. A tough man. A ah—”

You grab his cock and squeeze, effectively cutting him off. “You were saying?” You grin.

“So evil,” He mutters, his voice cracking.

Chuckling, you slowly and gently remove the cock ring from his hard length. If you’re being honest with yourself, you really want to sit on it right now. But it’s too soon for that entirely. So you’ll just have to settle for making this cute little baby boy come harder than he’s ever come before.

Jisung is already a moaning mess underneath you as his blood-flow finally returns, heightening his sensitivity. And when you take him into your mouth, he lets out a string of what you can only assume to be curses that definitely are not in any language you’re familiar with.

Your tongue swipes over the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. One hand moves up and down his base while the other moves up his body to tug on his nipples. Jisung’s head is thrown back as his abs clench, his thighs shake. He’s moaning your name like a prayer as his fingers dig into your hair.

“I’m close,” Jisung groans, “Please, noona!”

You pull back, keeping your hand firmly on his cock, moving up and down. You move your body closer to him as he comes. Ropes of his come coat your tits as he moans loudly at the sight and at the sensation of finally getting his release. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He chants, still coming. You carry him through his orgasm, stroking him and murmuring sweet words.

Finally, he sinks back into the softness of your bed, spent. You continue to stroke him, “How are you feeling, baby boy?”

“Fucking great,” Jisung grins, looking so fucked out. “Noona, you’re like an orgasm wizard.”

“I’m a what?” You laugh, releasing him and hopping up off the bed. You start to shuffle over to your bathroom to get cleaned up, but Jisung whines, stopping you in your tracks.

“No-o, noona, come back,” He pleads, “Wanna see your tits up close.”

“Are you joking?” You roll your eyes, but give in nonetheless. Quickly grabbing a damp washcloth from your bathroom, you walk back over to Jisung. He props himself up on his elbows, taking the sight of his come on your chest.

“Damn,” He licks his lips, “Noona, you look so good covered in my come. You made me come so fucking hard. Come on, let me taste you. Let me make you come this time.”

You shake your head, smiling, “Oh no, baby boy. You still haven’t earned that privilege yet.”

“What!?” Jisung fully sits up now, “But-but, noona! You have to be so wet right now, right? Please.”

You lean down, a breath away from his lips as you say, “I am so fucking wet for you, Sungie. And once you leave, I’m going to touch myself to the image of you falling apart under me.”

Jisung’s breath hitches, rendered speechless. You move away from him, wiping your chest clean and shrugging your t-shirt back on.

“Stay here,” You order, turning back to look at the beautifully ruined boy on your bed, “I’m going to get you some water.”

He just nods, pouting adorably. Oh, he is going to be so much fun, you think. Flicking the lock on your door, you pull it open and sigh at the sight you’re met with.

Three boys stare at you with wide eyes and varying states of embarrassment. Jisung’s friends, as predicted, had indeed enjoyed the show if their unbuttoned jeans were any indication. The boy with black hair and intense dark brown eyes blushes under your assessment. Next to him, the boy with lighter brown hair and delicate features stares back at you with a somewhat challenging look in his eyes. And, finally, the tallest boy with that goddamned piercing licks his lips, tongue flicking over the silver hoop on his lower lip.

“Enjoy the show, boys?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Not as much as Han,” The light haired boy mutters.

You size him up, “And your name is?”

“Minho,” He answers, glowering. “That’s Hyunjin and Changbin,” He adds, pointing at lip ring and dark eyes.

“Minho,” You murmur, reaching out to brush your thumb across his cheek, “Be a darling and get your friend Han a glass of water, would you? He just came so hard all across my tits - as I’m sure you heard - and he needs to hydrate.”

They gape at you once again, eyes flicking down every so often.

“Well?” You level Minho with a stare that sends him off. You wait for his return in tense silence, and when he finally reappears with glass in hand, you accept it from his grasp.

“Now,” You say, addressing the three of them, “Are you going to come in? Or are you just going to stand out here all night?”

And that’s how you end up spending your Friday night surrounded by four good boys.

You just might like parties after all.

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