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softshuji · 8 months ago

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You're starting to believe Shion doesn't have the capacity to be mad at you,

and it makes you a little angry when you've done something wrong, and he can only click his tongue and say 'I don't mind, I'll sort it out' and he's on his hands and knees picking up the shards of the broken glass now scattered over the kitchen floor.

He might nick his own palms with a wince, but he diligently grabs the broom and sweeps the flints up before you can comment on how you should have been doing it.

He turns up with a replacement the next day and it finds a home next to the others, as if it had never happened in the first place. And he never gets mad, never yells, never speaks negatively even if you deserve it, even if you're pushing his buttons and being irritating, he can only smile.

You crash your car, you lose your handbag, you set the smoke alarm off, you get into trouble constantly and he has nothing to say except, 'it's okay, it'll be fine' and you're torn between believing maybe that he doesn't have the capacity to get mad at all with you,

or maybe he doesn't care enough to do so. Anger is passion after all, isn't that what they all say?

You've taken to doing more reckless things just to get a reaction that isn't the softhearted and loving smile thrown towards you whenever you drop something and send the pieces flying and you hate yourself a little bit every time when you know he's being so kind, and you'd be devastated if he wasn't.

That's always the thing about him- and the rules are different for you.

He doesn't take you to gang meetings often and they call him 'mad dog' when you're not around and it baffles the others (ran and Rindou especially) that his girlfriend is a sweet, innocent, intuitive thing that dotes on him every day- enough for you to send him out with home cooked lunches that don't give him stomach aches. Though he'll never admit he gets them at all, he's never really been one to complain at anything.

If anything they're a little jealous. How can someone as 'unput together' as him bag a girl like that?

You would have a mind to tell them exactly how if you ever knew that conversation had happened- but he makes a point to keep 'all that gang shit' away from you anyway. He likes your little corner, the slice of domestic life that you offer him where he can perhaps be something else, where he gets to be the man in charge for once, where you don't mind that he is sometimes hard to put up with (his words, you'd never believe that). His dear girlfriend is a saving grace at the end of the day when he kicks off his shoes at the door and heaves a big sigh, scratching his hair as he slides off his jacket and misses the bannister when he throws it onto the wood cornering the stairway.

He is too good at the centre of it all. You don't and have never felt at all ashamed of being his girlfriend, or his girl, or anything,

and the snickers don't bother you when you know who he really is and what he really means. People have always chosen to see exactly what they want to, why would this be any different?

But you can't lie and say the guilt isn't eating you at all, when you provide so little to him in the way of his life. To him, he might not be the Haitani's but to you that's never mattered. You like the simplicity of him, and duplicitous feelings have never been your forte because he's always been so upfront about his feelings for you. He likes you, he loves you, he makes it known all the time and you wonder if you really do enough when he is so forgiving and you're under no illusions that maybe he isn't like the others, but it doesn't mean another woman won't want him if he left you. He's still part of the biggest gang in the country, and you know that counts for something.

It's making you a little sick when you think about it again- the concept of him not caring enough to be pissed off at you when you deserve it, of being so quick to defend you, even when you have done something wrong.

Like today, when you're deliberately being tetchy with him, sketchy and evasive and he's prodding in the gentle way of his to find the root of the issue, and it burns you a little inside when he trails after you- a puppy following an owner- with your discarded jacket in hand, clothes kicked off and left on the floor.

'You going to tell me what's wrong or not?' he says, bending to pick up your shirt as you round the corner to the bedroom. It makes his heart quake inside when he thinks about it. Are you not happy enough with him? Do you not love him? Is he doing something wrong? If so, how can he fix this?

'Mhmmm no, no nothing's wrong,' you say airily, as if nothing is and you miss how his eyebrows crunch towards your back as you slip off the rest of your clothes and pick up your discarded robe from the tower of them on the chair.

And you hate that you're being like this for no reason, or rather a reason you can't discern in any easy way when you know he doesn't deserve this, when he's been more than attentive to you over time. You're lucky in a way few others are. When you meet with friends and they talk on and on about husbands and boyfriends that it sounds like they don't love at all- all the issues, all the nagging that you can't relate to and you curse yourself for ruining what others would kill to have, albeit unintentionally.

'You're being funny.' He folds your clothes and leaves them on the chair, filling a glass of water for you as you both pass the kitchen.

'Funny how?'

'Weird, like you're upset.'

'You think so?'

You hate the evasive game. You hate even more that he can probably see through it so easily. He's always been like that. The other's call him airheaded, but he's never forgotten a thing about you.

'I know so. Can you tell me what's wrong?'

You turn, a look over your shoulder to him in the doorway, fiddling with his hands, a little lost, a little adrift, the worried and anxious tilt of his brows matched by the bite to his lower lip and it aches inside when you know you're the cause, when it hurts because of that fact. You love him, but where is that love meant to go when you have so much of it? When you wonder one day whether he's coming back, whether he's staying or dying in another man's battle, when you know his loss would tear something in you that you could never heal.

Your mouth forms the words before you have time to catch up with it, and it comes off seamlessly when you say 'I'm sorry,' and he frowns in that way he does, his brows pinching, the slight curl of his blond hair framing his cheeks, a strand or two falling over his tattoo away from the fray.

'Huh? What for?' he says, now shutting the door behind him, your glass of water and painkillers for the headaches you get left on the nightstand.

Clockwork.

You're a fish when you open your mouth, close it again and turn wordlessly towards the dresser to pick up a hairbrush, mumbling a "nothing, forget it," that has his ears pricking up, expecting him to take the bait and leave you to sulk on your own, the kicked puppy attitude that you hate you still show even now.

His hip brushes the dresser when he comes up to you now, pulls the hairbrush from your hand with a noise of indignation at the back of your throat, before tossing it onto the bed, your wrists now encircled in his bigger hands, his thumbs finding the dips over your knuckles seamlessly.

"no."

"no?"

"no, it's not nothing, and you can tell me." A beat. "I want you to tell me."

And your cheeks burn with heat, a fiery ice that licks at your neck when his thumbs come to rest on the incline of your wrists, a knowing look in his eyes with an eyebrow raised. And you avoid his gaze for a moment, settling it on the dresser, on the corner where the paint is chipping and the wood is exposed and he lifts a hand to tilt your head, your chin between his thumb and forefinger, till you stubbornly turn back to him with a pout.

‘Sorry,’ you say, your lip pulled by your teeth, bitten down and reddened, an anxious bite that he presses down on your lip to stop, the edge of his thumb skimming the dip in your chin.

‘You’re saying it again without telling me what it’s for,’ he says now, hands slipping down to your waist that he pulls till it’s flush with his own. ‘I wanna know what has my Dear girlfriend so sad.’

‘I just feel stupid y’know? I’ve been shitty to you recently, and you haven’t gotten mad at me once, and it makes me feel guilty when you don’t.’

He frowns, a crease to his brows that you resist the urge to smooth over with your fingers. ‘You want me to get mad at you?’

‘Yes! I- well no, but just- don’t you get mad at me?’

‘No, why would I?’

‘Why wouldn’t you? Don’t you love me?’

He shakes his head, incredulous, a stunned and pained expression flitting over the warm apples of his cheeks. ‘Of course I love you, but what does that have to do with anything?’ His grip tightens on your hips, a slow rock and thud against his own as he smooths circles into the slip of skin between your shirt and pants.

‘Well, people get angry at who they love sometimes, and you don’t, so that might mean…’

‘That I don’t love you? Is that what you’re saying?’ he says, the inflection at the end that betrays his hurt, the worried and hushed flash of pain glimmering in his eyes where the reflection of you avoids his gaze. You don’t speak again, opting to stare at the ground, your feet, the one spot on the carpet with the immovable stain that never lifts.

The silence seems to stretch, a quiet so loud that your ears ring with it, yawning on till he breaks it with a ‘I’m not sure who told you that but they were an idiot.’

Your head snaps up, apprehension and unease creeping along your skin. ‘What do you mean?’

And he laughs somehow, his eyes creasing, the sharp edges of his teeth revealed with the curve of a smile, lowering his head till it rests against yours, the edge of his blond hair tickling your cheek. ‘You’re so silly sometimes y’know?’

‘Huh?’ you say stiffly, a warning bell ringing lightly against your ears, a little ashamed, a little pressured despite yourself, even though you're the one who started it, you're a deer in headlights at the soft easiness of him. Maybe it would be easier if he burned through you, if he bared his fangs and bit straight into you - in the way you know would take a long time to nurse.

And he laughs harder somehow, a little giggle that provokes your own, a light and hesitant laugh that has you prickling with self consciousness. 'What are you laughing at? What's so funny?'

'You! You are!' And he raises his hands around your shoulders, a light shake of them as his breath ghosts over your Cupid's now, warm, sweet and scented with the undertone of menthol. You catch the reflection of yourself in the vanity to the side- you're puffy, cheeks puffed out, eyes watery, not your best by any means, especially when you angle in the way that shows the scar on your shoulder - a horrifying sight really, and you lift your cami to hide it , as if you ever can, as if it still matters this many years later.

And he softens, that glimmer in his eyes, a faint click of his tongue before you're pulled- gently still, into the warmth of his chest, your cheek squished against the soft linen of his shirt now creased from the day, your hands somehow instinctively finding purchase on his back where the muscle slips and slides underneath his skin, all sinewy flesh that feels warm and alive under your hands.

'Y'know…..' he starts, a rumble of his voice that ruminates against your earlobe, one hand coming up to rub at your back, the other still firmly on your hip pulled flush to his. 'Sometimes I do get angry at you, but it never means anything, never changes anything.'

Your voice is a whisper against his skin, your breath curling along the exposed flesh of his arm where your lips skim across now, faint freckles and marks now pressed to your mouth. 'You do?'

'Mhm, sometimes. When you do reckless things, when you don't take care of yourself, when you don't talk about what you like because you don't think you should.'

A hot fiery ice thunders into your veins and your neck prickles with embarrassment. 'I do that?'

'You do. It's like you don't think you ought to take up any space, like you feel bad for wanting things.'

'Oh.'

'But it doesn't mean I don't love you. You're my girlfriend aren't you? Just because I don't get mad at you doesn't mean I don't love you. It's because I love you that I don't get mad.'

'But other people say-'

He pulls you back, his lips ghosting over your forehead, hands coming to cup at your cheeks, tenderly, the knuckle dusters and rings left forgotten on the bedside table. 'I don't care what people say. Loving you will never make me angry, or mad, or anything like that and whoever told you that was a loser.'

'But…..'

'No buts. It's either love you as you are, or lose you all together.' He shrugs, the glint of eyes now pearly and glimmering with a soft rosy shine. 'It seems like an easy choice to make.'

You look away, a lick of heat making a slow crawl along your neck. 'Oh.' And you move from foot to foot self consciously, a hand coming up to scratch at your neck. You wonder in times like this, whether it bothers him to constantly give you this reassurance that comes so easily and often, when you doubt him and it has you shameful, and you find that he never relents in neverending love.

Why would he? You're his dear girlfriend and that's the way he likes it.

Happy bday to my darlin' ❤️

Reblogs appreciated!

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #shion madarame #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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thir10th · 7 months ago

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52 pick up - Emily Prentiss x Fem!reader

Summary: So basically this is a Emily x reader one shot based on ep 4x9 because I really wanted to read one but I could not find ANYTHING so I guess I had to write it myself *sighs*

TW: spoilers for 4x09, Fem!reader, (very poorly written) smut, mutual masturbation, fingering (this might be so bad I’m sorry in advance if it is) I think that’s it but let me know if I miss anything

A/n: very new fanfic writer so please be gentle and any feedback is appreciated 🙏 English is not my first language so sorry for the possible mistakes

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“we need to study his style up close and personal. It’s gonna take someone that he’s already attracted to” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive tone, soon enough, Morgan and Hotch are also looking at Emily, and you are too, only to realize what they’re trying to say

“oh… oh this is really gonna suck” Emily complains when she realizes she’s the one who will have to approach Viper.

You really didn’t like this idea. You weren’t obviously happy to let your girlfriend get in the line just to be approached by that same asshole who had already been extremely inappropriate to her, objectifying her, suggesting he could “make her do whatever he wanted”. Only if he knew if there was anybody in the world capable of making Emily Prentiss do anything was you.

All of that was true, but why was also true, and you wouldn’t admit, was how unreasonably jealous that thought made you.

You knew for sure Emily would never cheat on you, or do anything to deliberately hurt you in any way, and there was also the fact that she was a lesbian, so there is no way she would be attracted to that guy in any way, however it did make you feel jealous, just the idea of your beautiful, sexy girlfriend walking into that bar, as a literal decoy, her, all dressed up as any other night she would do, to go out with you and the rest for a BAU party night, but instead getting there by herself just with the aim to be eye-fucked by that disgusting misogynist of a man.

“ok but you’re not going by yourself, I’m going with you. It could be more effective is we approach him as a couple, isn’t that what our unsub has been doing anyway?”

You wait for your boss’ response, he frowns as he considers the idea

“You’re right, it could be more effective that way. Go get ready” He finally admits, and you go get your go bag

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You enter the room while Emily is already changing in, opening the door slightly just to take a peek so you can surprise her. She is already unbuttoning her work shirt.

“would you like me to finish that for you?”

You ask her, a she startles

“jeez y/n! you scared me, I didn’t know you were there!”

“Sorry, honey” you say as you enter the room and close it behind you

“are you excited to go clubbing or are you mad that I offered to go with you? I just really hated the idea of you approaching that asshole by yourself” you walk up to her, surrounding her waist with your arms, resting your hands on her sides, softly caressing the skin there

“yes…well about that” she surrounds your neck with her arms, twirling little strands of your hair with her fingers there

“you actually got mad?”

“no, no it’s not that… Hotch just came in and we talked about Jordan, and I kind of suggested she came with me”

“so basically I’m not going?”

“it’s just…she’s really trying hard to be a part of the team, and I can’t help it”

“you see yourself in her? Ems…” you knew how good she meant but you couldn’t help to think that she was being too nice to her, plus you weren’t so sure you liked Jordan that much. Maybe it was because you missed JJ, or maybe you just didn’t really like the way she looked at her sometimes.

“I just don’t want her to feel left alone now”

“I know, baby and I love you for that, but you were not like her, you did your best ever since the first day, you never needed to prove yourself by lying or anything like that

“Yes, but I did feel very left out at times, and I will never forget how comforted it made me feel that you included me and asked me for help at times”

“yes, but that was because I was trying to get in your pants” she laughs and closes her eyes slightly as in “I can’t believe you’re saying that” way.

It’s sometimes surprising how shy Emily can get specially considering her confidence in the bedroom, and also how she would slip some suggestive comments about your relationship in front of the team from time to time mostly to surprise them, but you loved both sides of her, and you though her shyness was adorable, so you laugh with her.

“I know it’s important for you, and it’s just so cute how you want to help her, so I’ll forget about it and just stick with Morgan and Reid, but if he touches you, remember I’m armed.”

She smiles, softly, looking at your lips, and she kisses you softly, and you gently kiss her back.

“I promise I’ll compensate you”

“I will hold you on for that one”

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It can feel strange to be dressed in your casual work clothes in the middle of a bar but there you are, handing in flyers with Morgan and Reid, you can’t help but to look among all the faces trying to find Emily, completely aware of how bad this could affect her cover, but you can’t help it.

She should be here already, what’s taking her so long?

Someone is suddenly standing behind you, you turn hopeful to see Emily but disappointed to see it’s just Morgan

“is pretty girl looking for her girlfriend?” he teases you

“shouldn't they be here already?” You ask him, ignoring the teasing

“relax beautiful, or you’re gonna blow up their cover, and even Pretty boy here has handed in more flyers than you, don’t get so distracted” he advices you, but you don’t really listen, you just keep walking around until you catch a glimpse of someone standing on a table, you can instantly recognize Emily, wearing a beautiful black dress that hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her breasts and making her look more beautiful if that was even possible already.

Almost immediately you can see Viper approaching her, he looks so confident in his “alpha male” appearance but you’re certain it will take Emily mere seconds to destroy him.

Then Jordan arrives, she has also dressed up for the occasion but she doesn’t look nearly as hot as your girlfriend. They both engage in a conversation with Viper, visibly suggestive. At the beginning you can tell his confident, he has done this a million times, but as time passes, and the conversation goes on, every time one of her talks he also gets more and more insecure.

You observe how Emily teases him, at one point she gets so close to his mouth you actually believe he’s going to kiss her but she just laughs it off and his body language changes again.

Looking at your beautiful girlfriend interacting in this way from afar was making you feel more and more aroused it even embarrassed you that it was turning you on, but you couldn’t help it. I mean, how could you when she just looked like that? You couldn’t even blame yourself every time you looked at her mouth and how her lipstick suited her perfectly.

Everything happens quicker than you thought, first thing you notice is how their face expressions change, and suddenly they’re walking away, leaving Viper there, and picking up the phone probably to call Hotch. You look for Morgan and Reid and tell them it’s time to leave.

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Back at the precinct you catch Emily when she’s entering the changing room again, you check that Jordan isn’t inside too, and get in with her.

“you look… wow” it’s the first thing you say to her. She’s looking straight at you, with a smile on her face, hinting she probably has something in mind for you

“you liked it?”

“Em, you look so beautiful”

“I could see you there in the back you know?” she grabs you by the waist, gently pushing your back against the lockers, you surround her with your arms for support, she keeps talking seductively, with her face so close you yours that your lips could crush if you just moved a bit closer. Instead you both just remain there, as Emily talks, just millimeters away from kissing

“really?” you ask, it’s a stupid question but you’re too surprised to say something coherent right now.

“really, yeah, you were practically drooling, was I doing that to you baby? “

“yes, god Emily yes”

She closes the space between us, her lips crashing against yours, practically devouring you, softly, full of lust.

Emily’s kisses were like that, no matter how much they lasted she always left you wanting more.

Her hands pull your waist to hers, grabbing your flesh desperately, anywhere she could find it. You run your finger through her soft black curls. Her tongue finds yours in a matter of seconds and suddenly the kiss turns into something bigger, her hands travel down to find your ass giving it a gentle squeeze because you know how much I love that she grabs your ass and how much it turns you on

You hear a knock on the door interrupting the scene, and you fly away from each other in less than a second

“Come in!” Emily just says a bit too loud. Her cheeks are red, and when Jordan enters she notices

“sorry, am I interrupting something?” she says, but it’s not a real apology

“no, sorry I was already leaving” you reply maybe a little too fast, and with one last look to Emily, you leave.

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After a case is closed you always feel like an eternity has passed. You are way so tired you can barely stand anymore, but at least you’re glad you got there in time to save the last woman the unsub had taken before something horrible happened to her.

You enter your hotel room, the one you shared with Emily. You started sharing rooms during cases after you made your relationship public, Hotch thought it was for the better since you wouldn’t be sneaking out of your rooms every night, and technically you were saving money.

“my feet are killing me, maybe those heels weren’t such a great idea as I thought” she sits on the bed, and you help her take her shoes off

“if I remember correctly, you had promised something to me” she grabs you by the waist, getting you closer to her, looking up from where she’s sitting

She simply smiles, looking up at you

“you know me. Im a woman of my word” she starts unzipping your pants, pulling them off your legs, she leaves a little kiss right on top of your underwear, she grabs them and pulls them down just like she did with your pants.

You start unbuttoning your shirt, and she does the same thing, but before she can finish you interrupt her

“you’ve undressed many times today already, let me be the one who takes you clothes off now” you move to sit next to her and you take her shirt off, then to unzipping her pants. It doesn’t take muck more for Emily to take the lead. She pushes you down so your back is laying flat on the bed, just to finish unbuttoning your shirt and opening it to discover you’re not wearing a bra underneath

“look at what we have here!” she teases you

“you look beautiful like this baby, did you enjoy the little act on the bar today? Because I think it turned you on, you couldn’t take your eyes off of me could you?” she says positioning herself on top of you, straddling you, lowering her face to kiss your cheek, then your neck, leaving soft and wet kisses all over your jaw.

“Yes, Em god yes” you say completely out of breath

“was my baby jealous?” she asks, alternating kisses between words

“I was” you admit, completely at her mercy, and very turned on by how her fingers trace all around your stomach, your chest, how she whispers in your ear and kisses everywhere she can reach.

“you’re mine, baby” she whispers in your ear, and moves to bite of on your earlobe

“I’m yours” you answer, and you can feel her smile forming on her lips against the tender skin right behind your jaw where she was kissing you

She started her trip down your body, leaving wet kisses all along your skin, stopping suddenly when she reached the hemline of your underwear. She put her hair between her ears and instead of going on to where you wanted her, she began kissing her way up your thighs, nipping the sensitive skin there which you were sure will leave small purple marks tomorrow that you were too ashamed to admit you loved carrying with your for the whom day, watching them on your own reflection on the mirror, tracing with your fingers the same path her lips had made hours ago.

She reached closer to your centre, lingering right where your thighs ended and met the elastic on your underwear. This had you bucking up your waist to her face, which caused a giggle from her

“someone’s eager”

“Em you’ve teased me enough already, just please” you say out of breath, begging her to get where you wanted her the most

“I can’t say no to you” she kisses you right in the middle of your underwear, the sudden contact making you moan in pleasure

“Fuck. Em” your hands practically flew to wrap your fingers between her hair.

She uses her own mouth to lower your underwear with her teeth, and taking them all the way off using her right hand, the other one never leaving its place. Other times Emily would simply move your underwear enough to get exactly what she wanted, but tonight she needed you naked, nothing more than you on her head.

Before you could complain on her slow pace, her lips crashed against yours, she moaned in your mouth and you did the same, simultaneously she cupped you, a slight cry in pleasure leaving your lips

“Emily please, just ple-“ Emily cut you off by burying two fingers inside you, the sudden pleasure causing a long, loud moan escape your lips.

You were both always so vocal about your time together even when staying at hotels, so you could count that Morgan would be teasing you about it tomorrow since he was the one sharing a wall with you. But you could not be bothered.

“Am I hurting you?” She asked with genuine concern on her eyes.

“No, it’s perfect just don’t stop” she smiled against your lips. You decided to take advantage of the situation, and moved the one hand that wasn’t wrapped on her hair, to meet her centre, and gently run your finger through her.

“Fuck. Don’t stop” she breathed before kissing you again.

She continued to move her fingers inside of you and you met each thrust but you almost fell apart when she pressed her thumb against your clit and rubbed

One last hard press against it had you coming undone, Emily let you ride your orgasm, although it doesn’t take her long to reach her high as well and she comes apart collapsing on top of you.

The heavy breaths filled the silent room, you caressed her hair, and she gave you a last peck on the lips before getting off of you, moving so you could face each other, she wraps her arm around your waist and brings you as close to her as possible.

“I couldn’t stand the way she was looking at you today” you admit

“How she looked at me? Don’t you mean he?” She asks

“I mean both of them, Viper and Jordan”

“Oh c’mon, you’re not being serious” she laughs it off

“I’m serious, I really think she’s into you”

“You’re not even jealous anymore, you are being completely unreasonable now”

“Ok, whatever you say, just remember, my gay radar never fails” you tell her to make her laugh, but you’re not totally joking

“Just so you know, Viper was right. I did have someone in my mind”

“Oh? And who might that be?” You say teasingly

“Try and guess” she says, going for another kiss that you reciprocate with a big smile on your lips.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:

#wlw #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily Prentiss #Emily Prentiss x reader #Emily Prentiss x you #criminal minds x reader #Emily Prentiss imagine #Emily Prentiss wlw #emily prentiss lesbian #bisexual reader #cm 4x09 #criminal minds 4x09 #cm 52 pickup

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electric-cross · 5 months ago

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Mine

Pairing: Darius Tehrani x Female Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, possessiveness, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: 3.3k

Darius gets jealous and wants to show his girlfriend who she belongs to. Smut ensues.

You slammed the car door shut, making your way up the driveway to the front door, your boyfriend, Darius, close behind.

“Look, all I’m saying is that I don’t know why you were flirting with him all night,” he called after you.

Your pace quickened as you approached the door, “For the hundredth time, I wasn’t flirting with him!”

“It sure seemed like it! And you seemed to be enjoying it too,” he replied as you unlocked the door and made your way inside.

You walked through the threshold, making your way to the living room where you sat your purse down on the coffee table, “Oh my god, Darius, this is insane! Why would I flirt with him? I love you, remember? I’m with you. I don’t want anybody else. We were just talking and he was a cool guy! Sorry, if I was enthusiastically reciprocating a conversation with someone I found interesting. That doesn’t mean I want to suck his cock!”

He was close behind you, still intent on an argument, “I get all that, but you guys just seemed a little too friendly for my liking.”

“Oh my god!” you began as you headed toward the bedroom, “I’m sorry for being a friendly person. I’m sorry if you felt jealous and insecure because I was having a polite conversation at a wedding of all places. It’s not my fault that you’re reading into shit that isn’t there.”

His pace matched yours and soon he was standing in the doorway of the bedroom you shared as you stood in front of your dresser, taking off the jewelry you had worn for the occasion. You still hadn’t bothered to look at him, feeling your anger rising. You were about to start ignoring him completely, finding the entire matter ridiculous and insulting. As if you could ever want someone else.

“Hey! I am not jealous and insecure, I just don’t like watching my girlfriend get along so well with another guy.”

“Oh, for fucks sake!” you shouted, “So I can never have male friends? Is that it?”

“No, of course you can. I just don’t think you need to have friends like THAT.”

You finally turned to look at him, “Like what?”

He paused, “Like, I don’t know. Just like that! The way you were smiling at him and giggling and shit. I don’t like it.”

“So, I’m not supposed to laugh when I find something funny? Should I have just told him that I liked his joke but my boyfriend has strict rules about my public behavior? Is that it?”

Darius groaned, “You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t think I do. You keep insisting that I was playing into some bullshit game, like I was deliberately trying to hurt you, like I would ever do that, and no matter what I say, you won’t believe me.”

“I don’t think you were trying to hurt me,” he began, “But it still did anyway. How would you feel if I did that to you?”

You walked over to the closet, taking your high heeled shoes off and placing them in their designated spot, “I wouldn’t like it if you flirted with some other girl, of course, but I know I don’t have to worry about that. Just like you don’t have to worry about that with me!”

“I did today.”

You threw your head back, closing your eyes, “Oh my god, Darius! This is fucking stupid! I don’t want that guy! I don’t want any other guy! I know who I belong to, and I’m happy that way, okay? Fuck!”

You turned to face your boyfriend, seeing him still standing in the doorframe, arms crossed. For a moment, he said nothing, just stared. There was something different about the way he was looking at you now. He still seemed upset and angry, but there was a flash of something else in his gaze.

He slowly began to walk toward you, “You know who you belong to?”

“Yes, Darius. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m in love with you and I’m yours. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

He closed in on you, backing you up against the wall, “You’re mine?”

“Yes.”

He placed his hands on your hips and shoved you backward until you made forceful contact with the wall behind you. His grip remained, pinning you. He leaned his head down toward you, a serious expression on his face.

“You say you’re mine, but I think you may have forgotten. Do I need to remind you?” he said as his hands gripped tighter around your waist, wrinkling the fabric of your dress.

You met his gaze, still angry and unwilling to back down, “Darius. I’m. Yours. How many times do I have to say it?”

He looked at you intently, eyes piercing through you, “I want to hear it again. I want to hear you scream it so there’s no doubt in my mind.”

You recognized that tone of voice, that look in his eyes. You felt your heart rate increase and your breathing become labored. You were still angry, still insulted that he could think you would do something like this. You didn’t want to give in to him. To give him exactly what he wanted, but he was so close to you. His body nearly pressed against yours, the smell of his cologne, the eye contact, and his undeniably sexy voice becoming more stern. It roused something within you. You had more and more trouble standing your ground when he was so enticing.

“Darius,” you said hesitantly, feeling your resolve weaken, “Baby, I’m yours.”

He continued looking into your eyes, completely serious as he said, “That’s not good enough. I need you to convince me.”

Before you could form a response, his lips were on yours. The kiss was forceful and deliberate. He was trying to claim you. He was angry, and you knew what was in store for you. As upset as you were with him, you couldn’t deny the feelings washing over you. The shiver down your spine as he worked his lips over yours, almost demanding you kiss him back. You fought against your better judgment, knowing you should push him off of you and take some time apart to let things simmer. Maybe go take a shower and wash this day off. Anything to put some distance between the two of you, but your body was betraying you.

You slowly reciprocated the kiss, feeling yourself begin to lose track of any thought of an argument, or pretty much anything else. You were being swept up by this man. This man that you should be angrier with, that you should refuse, but that you couldn’t deny. He was the sexiest man you’d ever known and his touch was electrifying, even when you were pissed off. You hated to indulge him, to let him have his way and think that his behavior was acceptable, but his soft lips on yours had your head spinning so fast you couldn’t latch onto a single thought no matter how hard you tried. You lifted your arms to wrap them around his neck, but he caught them before you could achieve your goal. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them above your head against the wall. He used one hand to secure them both, then moved his other hand back to your waist, ensuring you couldn’t move.

He broke the kiss, “Open your fucking mouth.”

You did what you were told and suddenly felt his tongue enter you, sliding furiously against your own. His grip on your wrists and waist tightening to a point of slight pain. He kissed you for a moment longer then pulled away completely, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

“I’m gonna show you just who the fuck you belong to.”

Before you could process exactly what he’d said, he was using one leg to spread yours open. With his hand on your waist, he gripped the fabric of your dress and pushed it up over your hips, exposing your panties to him. He then took the opportunity to press his knee against your clothed genitals. Slowly rubbing you through the garment.

You felt your breathing hitch and quicken as he worked on you, eyes still piercing into yours. You fought the urge to moan, still angry enough to deny him exactly what he was looking for. But, that all changed when he replaced his knee with the hand that had been on your waist. His touch was not gentle. He rubbed you hard through your underwear, even making small circles where he knew your clit would be. This time, you did moan. A small, quiet moan, but enough to rouse him.

“This is mine. Do you understand?” he said.

Your voice began to shake, “Yes.”

He slipped his hand into your panties and began working on your clit with no barrier. You felt your knees start to buckle, suddenly grateful that he was still pinning your hands to the wall, ensuring your position.

He quickened his pace, “I don’t think you do. I think I need to show you some more.”

His hand left your clit, leaving you aching. Before you could protest, he was swiftly pulling your panties down until they fell to your feet. You stepped out of them, leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. He once again used his leg to force yours open. Wasting no time, his hand was immediately back to your pussy. This time, tracing the wet slit with his finger. The feeling made you shiver, and you know he noticed. Without saying a word, he slipped his finger inside of you. Your back arched into him as the sensation of him violating you made its way through your body. He forced another finger inside, slowly stretching you out, his eyes never leaving yours.

He pumped and curled his fingers inside, increasing the wetness that had begun pouring onto his hand. His movements becoming harsher, creating a squelching sound as he fucked you with his digits. You closed your eyes and let out the softest moans.

“Open your eyes,” he demanded, “Look at me as I take what’s mine.”

You complied, seeing the arousal in his gaze. It made you weak. Suddenly forgetting why you were supposed to be upset with him, and dying for more. You leaned your hips forward, pressing into him, fucking yourself on his hand, never breaking eye contact.

His lips parted and you could tell he was becoming increasingly aroused by your movements, “No, baby. I’m in charge now.”

He quickly pulled his fingers out of your dripping pussy and brought them to your lips. He traced the skin with his wet fingers before pushing them inside, forcing you to taste yourself. You moaned softly as you started gently sucking his fingers, tasting your arousal. Before you knew it, he was pulling his fingers out of your mouth and using the same hand to wrap it around your throat.

You gasped slightly, feeling his hand closing around your throat, squeezing hard enough to cause your breathing to falter. His hand still wrapped around your wrists, squeezing in unison. His lips crashed against yours again, wasting no time in sliding his tongue back in to taste you. He loved tasting your pussy from your own mouth. His grip on your neck increasing so much that you thought he may cut off your breathing entirely.

Just as you were about to protest, he pulled his lips away and his hand left your neck and wrists. Breathing returning once more, you panted as you watched him undo the buckle of his belt. Your eyes transfixed on his tattooed hands pulling the item through the loops of his pants and off his body completely. You had begun to pull yourself away from the wall when he wrapped the belt around your throat, closing the loop against your skin, and once again, limiting your breathing.

He pulled you forward and led you to the side of the bed you shared. Without saying a word, he roughly pushed you so that you were bent over the edge of the furniture. He pushed the fabric of your dress back over your waist again, then pulled on the belt around your neck. You thought he might break your neck for a moment from the force of his pull.

You had no time to be concerned with your neck, as he soon smacked your ass so hard you were sure it had split the skin. You moaned out loud from pleasure and pain. He did it again. And again. And again. The skin on your behind stinging as he smacked and pulled the belt. This man was not in the mood to be romantic with you. You knew he meant it when he said he was going to show you who you belonged to.

He switched between spanking you and roughly kneading the flesh of your ass. Grabbing so hard, you knew he was adding to the bruises that were surely already there. He stopped for a moment and you were about to ask why, before you heard the zipper of his pants. You knew he was done making a show of things. That now he would truly claim you. You were more than ready.

You felt the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. You would have moaned, but Darius was pulling on the belt again, cutting off most of your circulation. Before you could register what was happening, he roughly slammed his cock into you. You would have buried your face into the bed had he not been holding your neck up. You heard him moan loudly from the contact.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, “Oh, fuck.”

He wasted no time quickly thrusting into you. There was no warm up. No gentleness. He was fucking you. Truly fucking you. He gripped your waist with his free hand to better pound into your throbbing cunt, still pulling on the belt. You moaned in wanton lust, loving every feeling of being dominated by this man. He was right. You were his.

“You’re mine,” he growled, “Do you understand? All mine.”

Your eyes rolled back in your head from the tone of his voice and you moaned, “I’m yours, Darius. Fuck, I’m yours.”

He moaned louder, “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” you managed to slip out.

“You can do better than that,” he said as he once again slapped your ass, then proceeded to fuck you even more roughly.

“Oh!” you shouted at the contact, “Oh my god, Darius, I’m yours. I’m all yours, baby. Fuck!”

He growled louder, “Yeah? You remember who you belong to now, baby? You know that only I get to fuck you like this?”

“Yes,” you whined.

“Say it,” he practically barked at you.

You arched your back, feeling the familiar tightness in your pussy, “Only you get to fuck me, Darius.”

“Tell me you belong to me,” he said as he pulled the belt tighter, forcing you to look upward.

You were getting close. The sensation of his cock inside you only exacerbated by the possessiveness in his words.

“I belong to you, baby. Oh, fuck. Only you, Darius.”

He moaned loudly, “That’s my good girl. MY good girl.”

He pushed down on your lower back, forcing it against the bed, still not releasing his grip on your throat. The new angle causing even more access to your cunt. He slammed into you with as much force as he could muster, causing you both to cry out.

“Oh, fuck! Oh my god, I’m gonna cum,” you shouted, filling the mostly quiet room with your screams.

His moans echoed yours and you knew he was close too, “Fuck, sweetheart. I’m gonna cum so deep inside you. Cum inside that pretty pussy so you know it’s mine.”

Your eyes rolled back once more and your mouth gaped. Your orgasm bubbling up and threatening to rip through you at any moment. You felt your legs begin to shake and you knew you were done for.

You let out a series of whimpers and Darius knew you were about to come undone, “Cum for me baby. Be my good girl, and cum all over my cock.”

Somehow, he managed to fuck you even harder and you were done. You moaned and screamed and writhed as you felt the liquid pouring out between your legs.

“Oh fuck, baby. Just like that. Fuck,” he moaned, a hint of desperation in his voice.

You were still cumming when you felt the belt around your neck and his hand on your hip both begin to tighten, “Shit. You sound so fucking hot when you cum, baby. Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum too. I’m-”

He never finished his sentence. Instead, he was gripping onto you for dear life, hunching over you, pouring his cum deep inside, as promised. He moaned loudly. More of a growl than anything. You could tell he had cum hard. His moans a bit more prolonged than they usually were when he finished. You both felt your orgasms taper off at the same time.

Eventually, he loosened the belt around your throat and pulled it over your head, throwing it to the floor. You inhaled deeply, feeling your head spinning from the orgasm and the returning flow of oxygen. Your head fell forward to the bed as you attempted to collect yourself. You shivered at the feeling of him pulling himself out of you completely.

No one said anything. He gently pulled you up until you were standing before him. Your back flush against his chest. You could still feel his huge, hard cock pressed up against you. His hand wrapped around your waist as he placed a small kiss against the side of your neck. The spot tender from the belt.

He breathed deeply against you, “I love you, baby.”

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back into his chest, “I love you, too.”

His hand softly rubbed against your stomach, “Are we okay?”

You turned to face him, “Yes, we’re okay. But please know that I really am yours. I didn’t mean to hurt you today, but you need to trust me, okay?”

“I know. I’m sorry if I overreacted, sweetheart. I just love you so much. The thought of you wanting someone else just fucking breaks me.”

You stood on your tiptoes, and gave him a sweet kiss on the lips, “I know, baby. I promise you, there’s no one I want besides you. Okay?”

He smiled, finally convinced, “Okay.”

You pulled back, “Good. Now that we’re done with this, I’m finally gonna go take a shower. So hands off for just a little while, alright?”

He laughed, “Alright. I can behave. For a little while, anyway. I can’t promise I’ll behave later, though.”

You grinned, “That’s fine. But maybe not quite as rough next time. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I’m afraid you’ll leave marks if we do this again.”

His eyes glanced down to your neck, “Baby, you already have marks.”

“I do?” you asked as you turned to face the standing mirror in your bedroom, “Oh. I do. Well, I guess they can serve as a reminder of who I belong to.”

Darius smiled, “I guess they can, but I think you could always use more of a reminder.”

You smirked and raised an eyebrow, “Oh, I could? Like what?”

He returned your smirk then scooped you up into his arms, “Well, let me join you in the shower and I’ll show you.”

You giggled, “Okay. But this time, you’re gonna tell me that you’re mine.”

“Deal,” he replied as he carried you off into the bathroom.

#Darius tehrani fanfiction #Darius tehrani fanfic #spite fanfiction #spite fanfic #Darius tehrani x reader #Darius tehrani x female reader

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casspurrjoybell-33 · 2 months ago

Text

Blue's Rose - Chapter 21 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Boys Will Be Boys

Blue Cavanaugh & Kulap 'Kool' Somboon

"You said you had two serious girlfriends? Is that all?" he asked.

"Ahh," Blue sighed out, Kulap could feel his body behind him rocking with the nodding of his head as he seemed to grasp the real question Kulap was asking.

"Girlfriends," he answered, emphasizing the word as Kulap had done.

"Only two girlfriends and no. No. One. Else," he finished succinctly, leaving no room for doubt.

Kulap grinned happily, his head ducking down at bit in sheer relief.

"You know," Blue said casually.

"I already told you about having two girlfriends. Why are you asking me that? Don't you believe me?"

Though asked lightly, Kulap could tell Blue didn't like the thought of him thinking Blue capable of lying.

Thinking about it, he could appreciate why Blue would feel that way and he tried to explain.

"I know. I know," he paused, trying to clarify.

"It's just you said you never thought you could be gay until me..." he trailed off, hoping Blue was catching on.

"Yes?" Blue prompted, either being deliberately obtuse or truly not comprehending.

"So, I didn't know if that meant you had looked into it, so to speak, since me," he tapered off, embarrassed, worried he sounded like one of those grade school 'do-you-like-me-check-the-box-yes-or-no' kind of kids.

"I think you 'think' too much," Blue said quietly, giving Kulap's shoulder an extra squeeze.

"Quite possibly," Kulap answered quite seriously in response, staring straight ahead feeling both relieved and foolish.

"Since you're asking, it must mean it matters to you, so all I can say is I didn't purposely pursue it or not pursue it. You were always on my mind. No one else ever caught my eye. I probably wouldn't have done anything even if they had. It would have felt wrong, I think," he explained, his voice thoughtful, as if giving serious contemplation to his answer.

His hand stopped rubbing at Kulap's body and they both wandered back down to their earlier position, strong arms wrapped around his waist, only his hands didn't clasp this time but settled strongly on his hip bones.

"Are you jealous?" he suddenly murmured in a purr at Kulap's ear, his lips nibbling at the delicate lobe before his tongue swooped in the sensitive channel and flicked in and out in and out, making the body tucked so intimately into his squirm at the hot moist teasing.

Blue's hand continued holdings Kulap's hips in a steel like grasp, controlling his movements.

"Hmm," Kulap sighed in pleasure, purposely ignoring the question.

Goosebumps formed on his exposed arms as small shivers ran up and down his spine like tiny little needle points shocking his nerves endings all the way down to his cock.

"Jealous?" Blue whispered again, his tongue only leaving its tender ministrations to ask the question before swooping over to the other ear to repeat its process, tormenting Kulap but if he thought that was torment it was nothing to the torture of a few seconds later when one of Blue's hands released its firm grip of his hip and suddenly snaked out to grasp his growing erection, big hands enclosing it, thumb pad circling and teasing the tip with painstaking thoroughness.

"Why do you keep asking me that?" Kulap rushed out in frustration, he didn't want to answer, he didn't want to admit the truth.

"Okay," Blue grated.

"Have it your way. Don't answer," he said pumping his hand slowly up and down, teeth still nipping, as his other hand joined in and began rubbing up Kulap's torso straying to a nipple and pinching it, flicking it before wandering to the other and giving it the same attention.

"Hey. Ahh. Oh," Kulap tried to say something anything but Blue's hands were making mincemeat out of his mind.

"Hmm," Blue continued, lifting his mouth from Kulap's neck back to his ear, his tongue darting in, circling it, fucking it as his hand pumped his thickening erection and his fingers tweaked his pebble hard nipples.

"It's okay," he whispered softly, tauntingly.

"Don't answer," he said again, in between thrusts.

"I can do." Thrust "This." Thrust "For as long." Thrust

"As." Thrust "It." Thrust "Takes." Thrust

"You," Kulap said between pants.

"Are," he moaned and grunted as Blue quickened his hand as Kulap spoke only to slow it down again, teasing, tormenting.

"Evil," he gasped, his teeth gritting as the torturous machinations continued with no letup but no real drive for completion either.

Blue was seriously going to keep toying with him, he realized, until he admitted his jealousy.

He thrust his head back against Blue's chest, dodging his tongue while trying to make eye contact.

Wicked dark orbs glowing with primitive light stared back.

Kulap knew then he didn't stand a chance in hell.

Panting, hips rocking unintentionally, encouraging the fist gloving him to move faster, firmer, rougher.

"Please," Kulap begged; his moans ragged his breathing labored.

"Please," he gasped again, his warm brown eyes liquid-like in their stare.

"Jealous?" Blue goaded again in a soft whisper, bending down to kiss the tip of Kulap's nose in an innocent gesture belying his tone, the stroking of his hands and the lascivious glitter in his eyes, the contrast unbelievably sexy to Kulap.

Kulap licked at his lower lip as he stared up at Blue, his eyes pleading for mercy.

Though Blue looked like he had all the time in the world, Kulap could see the sweat glistening at his temples and feel the straining steely length of him at his back, his breaths were getting shorter and deeper as well, his control was not as rock solid as his cock, Kulap thought with a semi-hysterical laugh, knowing Blue was about to make him lose his mind.

"What's so funny?" Blue quizzed salaciously, his big hand stopping it's stroking, only squeezing then letting go, squeezing and letting go, three strong hard pumps and nothing, before back to stroking.

Kulap knew Blue was telling him he was in charge, he controlled the pace, the pressure, the anything and he could stop it all as well.

Far passed fun and games Kulap needed to cum, his body quivered and quaked, hiis nerves felt stretched and sensitive and overly stimulated, he worried he might literally scream out loud if Blue just lightly stroked his tip one more time without pressure, without momentum so that he could cum.

No matter how strained Blue might look to Kulap right now he knew there was no way he could out last him, he no longer wanted to, pride be damned, let him cum.

"I was," he panted harshly.

"Jealous," he finally confessed on a long breath, his groan deepening immediately because as soon as he finished pronouncing the 's' Blue had actively begun pumping and pumping Kulap with a frenzy that his cock literally wept in appreciation.

Head thrust back, eyes closed, short groan after short groan, Kulap finally released, the warm fluid jutting out in a sticky white river across his belly.

"Oh my God," he growled hoarsely, one hand covering his eyes as he collapsed back against Blue breathing harshly.

Blue's laughter increased, he kissed Kulap on his cheek, before he made to stand, supporting Kulap's upper body so he could get up without reaggravating Kulap's lower lumbar pain.

Kulap shot his hand out and grabbed his wrist.

"Hey, where are you going? What about you?" he asked meaningfully glancing at the very impressive erection not far from his face.

"Nothing that can't be handled in the shower," Blue responded, with a smile, trying to stand again.

"I can..." Kulap started to say but Blue stopped him.

"Oh, you can and I look forward to it but not right now," he said.

"I'd rather you heal quickly so we can..." he petered out knowingly with a sly wink.

Kulap chuckled back.

Blue slid to his feet and Kulap carefully sat up, his low back and ass, though forgotten in the last minutes of fiery play were now once again barking angrily at him.

He had to agree with Blue, trying to give head in the shape he was in now would likely be one of the least sexy things ever seen.

He held his hand out to Blue.

"We can still shower together," he said, groaning as Blue pulled his sore body up.

"And I can at least wash," his eyes glanced at the long cock still hard with excitement.

"That for you," he finished, eyes playful.

"Hmm," Blue moaned in agreement.

"Well I guess you can at that," he teased back with another wink, his arm around Kulap's waste as they walked together towards the bathroom.

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years ago

Note

it's my birthday so I'm making a req that's been on my mind for a MINUTE... naruto boys reactions to meeting a girl and finding out she has a kid 👀

A/N: Happy Birthday!!! I wasn’t sure what characters you wanted so I picked the most simp–able characters imo. If I missed a character you really wanted, just ask and I will do them as well!

I strayed from the prompt just a little bit, but it still has what you wanted!

Feat: Naruto, Sasuke, Shikamaru, Kakashi, Gaara, Gai

Naruto-

I would say that with Naruto, you don’t have any initial fears about approaching him with the topic. He’s an open minded guy.

He's also never done anything to make you assume he doesn't like children.

You're super casual about it, just stopping by Ichiraku with your toddler holding your hand. Naruto doesn't even notice you until you tap his shoulder.

The way his eyes light up when you first introduce him to your son. You swear, he was shining brighter than the sun.

He immediately wants to take your kid out and have lots of fun, eating ramen, training, pranking people.

I feel like he’s one of the only guys that would have no qualms about you having a kid, not even an ounce of hesitation.

He is ready to dive head first into fatherhood.

After a while of dating, your son buys him a mug that says something along the lines of “World’s Best Dad” and when I tell you that this man sobbed like a little baby…

Isn't overprotective at all tbh. Sometimes he forgets your son left the house to play with friends. He's so surprised when he goes to check the kids room and they're not there…?

Very forgetful too. Does not remember birthdays, has to rush the day of when buying presents.

Is embarrassing without realizing it. "Is she your little girlfriend, s/n?" "Did you remember your ointment?" 100% says things without thinking first.

Gets jealous when you make special bento for your child to take to school with them, and cries for you to make him one too. He literally needs you to cut his fruits into heart shapes or he might die of neglect.

Essentially, he is a big baby himself.

5/10 on the dad scale

Sasuke-

Yeah, let's just say he is not happy. At all.

He honestly considers breaking up with you because he 1) doesn’t like children and 2) does not want any more responsibilities put on him than need be.

Also, I completely believe he would be the type of guy that's upset you were in a serious relationship before him. Sorry ladies, but he’s a little bitch like that.

You hoped that he wasn’t going to react this way, but in your heart, you knew he would be negative. You worried over telling him for months before you finally came out and told him.

It took all the courage you had just to stumble out the words.

“Sasuke, I have something to tell you. It’s kinda important,” you mumble to him, and he just waits for you to continue. You’re shaking, and you hold your hands under the table between your thighs to keep them from quivering so much.

“Well, what is it?”

“I want to introduce you to my daughter.”

You deliberately break eye contact with him when you see his eyes darken.

His brows furrow, and you watch his shoulder tense under his cloak. He’s not exactly mean about it, but he’s honest with you. He tells you he’s not thrilled, that he needs a bit of time to process this new aspect of you and your relationship before he decides what he wants.

When he meets your daughter, he is Awkward. He tries to talk to her, but in the end your daughter ends up crying and hiding behind your legs. You tell him that she’s just shy, but he knows he messed up. He’s just not good with kids.

He tries to bond with your daughter over time, with a lot of encouragement from you and Naruto. He’s not a good dad, but at least he tries.

3/10 dad

Shikamaru-

“You have a kid?”

He’s somewhere in between shocked and completely exhausted. This mans is tired as hell just living his life, and now you throw a little gremlin in the mix? God damn.

You nod, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck out of habit. “Troublesome, but what can I do? If I love you, I gotta love the kid, right?”

He’s not gonna play catch or take them to amusement parks anytime soon. The first time he meets them, he sits them down in front of the Shogi board and patiently plays match after match with them until they get the hang of all the moves and some loose strategy. He only lets them win one time, though. Just for a bit of confidence.

It’s the only way he knows how to bond with others. It’s what he played with the two father figures he had in life.

And your kid really likes him. They think he’s the smartest guy in the entire world, and they ask for sleepovers all the time so they can play board games all night.

He doesn’t mean to be such a rad dad, but he honestly is. He’s chill and never yells or loses his temper.

Secretly, he loves making your child smile and giggle, and he adores when the little one jumps into his arms for a hug. He’d never say that aloud though. Some things are too embarrassing.

He definitely does not have the energy to go and be all overprotective, helicopter parent. He basically lets them do whatever they want as long as they finish most of their homework.

One of the most functional men of them all, and a great influence, albeit a bit lazy. You make a lovely family.

7/10 dad

Kakashi-

This man loves babies. He doesn’t get to see too many of them, but he really loves to swaddle them up and carry them around the house as he does his daily tasks.

He'll quietly talk to them as he does stuff, explaining what he's doing as he goes about his business.

They can't talk back either, just goo goo gaa gaa. That's a plus.

You tell him on the third date after getting to know him a little better that you have a newborn daughter. In your mind, if he can’t accept your baby positively pretty early on, then he’s not the right man for you.

He asks a lot of questions at first. He’s curious. You’re just happy he doesn’t seem turned off by the surprise. He almost seems excited.

And quite honestly, you are shocked. He's one of the toughest shinobi in the village.

That night you walk home together to the house you share with your parents. It’s hard being a single mom, Kakashi completely understands. He’s so nice about everything. He has such a cool and calm demeanor that makes you feel so comfortable.

You let him into your house, entering the living room where your mother was sitting in her rocking chair, gently tipping back and forth with the baby in her arms.

“Ah, Hatake. I’ve been wondering when my daughter would bring you home.” Yeah, you might have talked about him a lot. Totally not in love already, haha...

Let's just say, Kakashi is a baby whisperer or something. Whenever your baby cries, you hand her over to him and suddenly she's all giggles and smiles.

You're a little jealous.. like come on, you birthed her and she betrays you for some gray haired weirdo. Smh.

Also, he's not opposed to having more. Just say the word, and you shall recieve, Y/N.

He's not around too often because of work, but when he is, he is more than happy to play house. For once in his life, there is a sense of normalcy for him.

He never anticipated having a child, or even a domestic partner, but now that he did, he was completely in love with the feeling.

Is embarrassing on purpose. Most definitely threatens to kill boyfriends once she starts to date. Tells her friends embarrassing things she did as a baby too. Asks why she's wearing makeup to school and tells her to wipe it off, "Who are you trying to impress? You're 14."

So yeah, he can be annoying.

But he always makes up for it.

He is thriving as a father figure. Perfect man.

10/10 dad, but maybe im biased.

Gaara-

When you finally tell him after talking for a few months, he's upset. Not in the way you would expect, though.

He is overwhelmed with emotions. He's nervous and scared. He's never been good with people, and he hadn't interacted with many babies in his life.

He only really knew his sister's child.

Still, he felt a bit of giddiness in his stomach. You were sharing an important part of your life with him. You trusted him so much.

God, he loved you more and more everyday. He would do anything to keep you happy.

You are pleasantly surprised, but really, you should have expected this out of such a kind soul like Gaara.

You have to coax him out of his anxious state, convincing him that everything will be fine and your baby will absolutely love him.

And they do.

He is so gentle with your child.

He takes them through his desert gardens and shows them each and every plant, educating them on the care they need and the uses.

He lets them sit in his office when he's doing his Kazekage work. Even if it's a little disruptive, he doesn't care.

Tells them all about his friends from the Leaf Village, especially Naruto. Your child's bedtime stories are definitely tall tales of 12 year olds' on their adventures.

He loves his little family above all else. He would straight up die for you two.

9/10 dad.

Gai:

He's ecstatic, of course he would be.

"Gai, I'd like you to meet a few people who are very important to me. Can you stop by my house around dinner time tonight?" you ask him, knowing he will say yes.

You just need time to prepare everything. You'll make a fantastic dinner (not that Gai is picky) and clean your house enough to be presentable.

"Sure thing, my beautiful flower of the Leaf. I will be there at 6, not a second later!" No conversation with Gai would be complete without some dramatics. He gives you a thumbs up as he runs away, continuing his training.

He arrives at exactly six just as he promised.

"Y/N, who are these children in your house?! And why do they look just like you?!"

He is so shocked that you have twins, but the brightest smile grows on his face.

He scoops them both into his arms and swings them around. The man is too strong for his own good. He doesn't even know he's acting like a lunatic.

You eventually have to stop him, telling him it's time for dinner and afterwards you could all sit around and get to know each other.

He's kind of an overbearing father. When you all move in together, he wakes your kids up at the crack of dawn for "training". You have to remind them they aren't shinobi and in no way will run 20 miles every morning.

He is super protective as well. He is the type of dad who will not fall asleep until both kids are at home safe and fed a proper dinner.

Rock Lee is definitely your go-to babysitter too.

He can be wildly embarrassing too. Cheering a little too loud at school events and bragging about them to Kakashi.

He's a good dad, just really extra at times.

7/10 dad.

#naruto headcanons #naruto x reader #naruto scenarios #kakashi x reader #kakashi scenario #kakashi headcanons #sasuke x reader #sasuke headcanons #shikamaru x reader #shikamaru headcanons #gaara x reader #gaara headcanons #Gai x reader #gai headcanons #might gai #requests are open #but they will be extremely slow #is it obvious id let kakashi give me as many babies as he wanted lmaooo #head over heels for this man

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taechaos · 3 years ago

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from Textbook Love drabbles

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble(?), smut, college au

synopsis: “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

warnings: slight angst, arguing, dubcon, mild violence

word count: 4.7k

a/n: ima need yall to submit jk gifs cuz it is taking me TOO long to find a good one 👺 not proofread.

The weekend is fun: students’ two days of temporary rest and catching up on their assignments. Jungkook doesn’t concern himself with the latter, but he does enjoy waking up later in the day and lying down on the grass with his arms crossed under his head, bathing in the sun without any worries. It’s peaceful, thinking thoughts of you with dimmed eyes while the breeze gently wafts past him.

But of course, Taehyung wouldn’t let him just enjoy his day without a hint of irritation. Good things never last anyway. He’s sitting in the middle of the field, a hot spot for relaxation, and feels the soil under his palms while observing his surroundings. Yoongi is with them, munching on a few snacks while scrolling through his phone as it quietly plays music.

“The girl at the party,” Taehyung begins before glancing at Jungkook through his sunglasses, “she was alone when I came back. You weren’t around either; did you cum too soon or something? I saw you two kiss.”

“I left,” Jungkook mumbles without opening his eyes.

“Why?”

“I was bored.”

“And where did you go?” he pries.

“None of your business.”

Taehyung scoffs at his dismissal before averting his gaze elsewhere. “I do have a guess.”

“Don’t start,” Yoongi warns him without looking up. The two best friends usually get into arguments in a matter of seconds daily, and Yoongi just wants to spend his day without having to break up a fight. Just this once, he hopes… but hope doesn’t save him.

“I’m just wondering if you actually went all the way back to campus to fuck another girl, who coincidentally also does your homework.” His tone is cool and collected, but it borders on mocking that usually goes unnoticed. He’s been around these two too long for them to miss, however. Yoongi sighs, dreading the response already.

Jungkook sits up on his elbows with a glare directed towards Taehyung. “How’s your ex holding up, Tae? You think she cheated on another guy yet?”

Neither of the two friends have a filter around them, no consideration for their words as they apathetically insult one another; but Jungkook can go too far, especially by bringing up old wounds.

Taehyung was in a toxic relationship with his first girlfriend of two years, which took a huge toll on his mindset. Constant infidelity, endless forgiving, make up sex and catching her with another man after: a cycle that went on for over 24 months. The concept of love became tainted in his eyes, no longer interacting with the opposite gender if not to get laid, and Jungkook’s commensalistic - rather parasitic - relationship doesn’t disprove his hateful ideology. Love only consists of two people: a host who provides, and the parasite that selfishly takes it all.

But he isn’t over the pain that lasted a year after the break up, which was shamelessly executed by the parasite: his former girlfriend. It took a lot of trust to open up about it to his friends, and it lifted a heavy weight off of his chest. Only this year did he stop thinking about her, until Jungkook asked about her so casually. It stings his heart only for a second, and he scoffs as Yoongi intervenes, “Both of you need to shut the fuck up.”

“If you guys want to talk about my relationships, then don’t get all whiny when I talk about yours.”

Taehyung swallows his pride and confidently answers, “I don’t know, Jungkook. I hear she’s doing well, but no information on her boyfriends. Your turn: what’s going on with that nerd?”

“Elaborate.”

“Are you two dating?” Yoongi asks exhaustedly. They just keep taking every opportunity to annoy each other, and it’s even overwhelming him at this point.

Rolling his neck side to side in thought, Jungkook takes a moment to answer, “No.”

“Bullshit,” Taehyung spits. “You know what? Let’s just move on. I’m sure I could get proper answers from someone else.”

“If you have a death wish, that is,” he warns with a slight seethe before lying back down.

He doesn’t respond and hides a smirk, a couple having a romantic picnic ahead of him from a distance. He watches them for a few seconds before muttering to himself, “It’s not going to be my death.”

Yoongi and Jungkook chill on their own after Taehyung leaves. He’s roaming the campus in hopes of finding that one girl who is always wearing some school skirt and working 24/7 to find out what is so special about her. Jungkook might think he doesn’t notice them interacting, but behind that airhead facade, he’s observant. It’s not that big of a fucking secret either, they’re not deliberately hiding their strangely beneficial friendship or whatever. You stick out like a sore thumb in the yard, though there’s not many people to tell you apart from anyway.

He approaches you rather slowly, inspecting your figure first before meeting you. Your posture is straight and composed, fingers quickly typing away on your keyboard without even looking at them. You look so serious to him, a contrast to the radiant butterflies flying past you in such a bright environment. He wonders if you ever procrastinate or take breaks, and most importantly, how someone that appears so smart has fallen into such an obvious trap set by his best friend of all people.

His hands are in his pockets as he speaks his first words to you. “Hi, I’m Taehyung.”

Your reaction is instant: a quick look at him and you’re already frowning. “I’m Jungkook’s best friend,” he adds in case you’ve seen him around before.

“I don’t know you.” And with that distant reply, you return to your essay. If meeting Jimin has taught you anything, it’s that you can’t trust anyone who claims to know your lover. They are just using it against you…

“Well, shit,” he laughs, “I didn’t realize you were so cold.” Your eyes don’t waver from your screen, so he tries another approach: “Are you the girl Jungkook left the party a few days back for?”

Your ears perk up in his direction, but you don’t show it. But he notices the pause in your taps before you continue typing, and he holds that against you. He takes a seat across from you, and your laptop covers your face from him. “I just wanted to meet the person that’s got him whipped enough to get high and run off to them.” You bite down on a smile and prolong your silence. “I guess I’ll talk to you when you’re not busy.”

He stands up just as you tell him, “Wait, no, I’m not busy.” You close your laptop mid-way before hesitating, but slam it shut nonetheless. “Sorry.”

“You’re good.” He sits back down and clasps his hands on the table. “So what’s going on between you and him? He refuses to tell me, as if you’re his little secret.”

You shyly look down at your flats and twiddle your fingers on your lap. “We’re together… but he is very mysterious.”

It’s a good thing you don’t glance at him to hide your blush, because he’s a little skeptical. He puckers his lips and furrows his brows but controls his expression when you look up. He mentally curses for taking longer than a few seconds to respond; it’s suspicious. “I know right? I don’t know why he’s so reluctant to talk about you. You’re a total sweetheart.”

Approval from Jungkook’s friend: check. Will he like you more if you get along with his friends? The thought excites you, because at least this is someone he likes, unlike Jimin. “Thank you,” you shy a smile. “Um…”

You’re awkward: not Jungkook’s type, Taehyung notes. You’re obviously the host... “So is this a fling, or are you two serious?”

“We’re serious!” you immediately answer. “I love him, and he recently told me he loves me too. He used to kiss me for doing his homework, but now he does it out of nowhere.”

Wow… romantic. He suppresses a chuckle because he doesn’t want to laugh in your face, not when you’re so cute when you talk about him. Your eyes light up with a gleam, a lovesick smile gracing your face and now desperate to befriend him. You look like him when he was supposedly in love. You’re serious about Jungkook, but for how long? Especially when the other side of the relationship is not so committed. It should be mutual: with two hosts.

“Yeah?” he acts interested and raises his sunglasses up to his hair. “How does he act around you?”

“Well,” you start gushing, “he is a little closed off with his emotions.” True. “He doesn’t like me talking to other guys.” Ooh, interesting. “He can’t stand being ignored,” you chuckle. Can he now? “And… he is so cute when he’s jealous. He has this glare whenever I don’t give him enough attention, but he would never admit it. He likes being intimate with me, likes it when I reassure him. He never says it out loud though, I can just tell by looking at him. I’ve never felt this way for anyone, never fell in love with someone until I met Jungkook. I just want to make him happy because he used to look so sad when I watched him from afar.” A hopeless romantic.

Maybe if you didn’t sound so genuine and innocent, he would’ve made fun of you. But he just feels pity for someone who is so giving to someone who gives back so little. You don’t deserve it; don’t deserve to stay up working on so many assignments; don’t deserve to not have any hobbies; don’t deserve to be so unloved. You are pathetic, but it doesn’t turn him off.

Taehyung is a host too.

He clears his throat at the unexpected stirring emotions in his heart, “What do you love about him? Do you like being treated like shit or something?”

“He doesn’t treat me badly! He is like a light switch, you know? He doesn’t know how to act, sometimes sweet and sometimes… a little mean. I love him for his pure heart, and I believe that we are similar in a lot of ways.”

Taehyung can’t contain his snort. Similar? You are opposites. You are similar to him, not Jungkook. He feels… jealous. The pairing is just so ridiculous and flawed, but you’re neither of the two; you are just good. Taehyung can be good too. “So, what’s your Instagram user?”

The lack of commentary and escalation of the topic catches you off guard. It’s a distraction. “I don’t have an account,” you reply in confusion.

“Wow, I’d expect you to cyberstalk Jungkook on there,” he jokes with a laugh.

“He has an Instagram?”

He purses his lips, his grin faltering as he nods. He takes out his phone from his pocket to show you the account, and holds it in your face. Your lips part as you gently take it from him, curiously inspecting the collage of images.

“He plays the guitar?” you ask in awe. You click on each picture to zoom in on them, and your heart jumps upon seeing his selfies while Taehyung hums. He is gorgeous in your eyes, and you want to keep up with his posts in hopes of seeing another selfie. These are hidden gems that Taehyung had the courtesy of providing to you.

“He’s learning,” Taehyung says, “you should sign up and post some pictures as well. You’re really cute.” His cheeky compliment makes you happy; he is basically giving you his blessing!

“Thank you, and you’re right,” you chirp, “I will make an account after I finish this essay. Want to take a picture with me?”

It’s safe to assume that Jungkook wouldn’t mind you talking to his best friend, so why not expand your social circle? You’ll be more involved with his life this way. Taehyung stammers slightly before agreeing. He switches benches to sit next to you while you rummage through your backpack to find your phone. He finds it strangely endearing how you hold it, using your index finger to swipe between apps to find the camera. It almost stings his heart that you’re so old-schooled in a cute way. Once you angle it above you with your arm stretched out to your left, Taehyung appears to be behind you as he lowers his glasses. You smile brightly into the lens while he cutely puckers his lips.

Click.

“Are you wearing perfume?” he asks before he can stop himself. Your scent tickles his nostrils sweetly, and he doesn’t know why he’s noticing so much about you or holding a conversation with a woman without being naked. It’s been a hot minute since Taehyung’s had such a platonic interaction, and it shouldn’t feel this nice. He shouldn’t want to continue it through social media either.

“Yes! Do you smell strawberries? I noticed Jungkook eating them before, so I use just about anything strawberry scented. Lotion, shampoo, shower gel…”

He tunes you out as you gush and focuses on the smooth movement of your lips. You’re too good, and Taehyung knows he isn’t the best person but at least he’s not as bad as Jungkook. I shouldn’t think like this… but am I wrong? He will break your heart. What if it’s the right time to intervene to save you from that misery, and be a friend to both of you? He doesn’t want you to fall apart and be completely crushed right in front of his eyes, not when he just witnessed how childishly happy and naive you are. It wouldn’t be fair to you, nor to the life lesson he was taught years ago.

And he then notices that you're wearing strawberry lip balm.

“Jungkook kis-” -sed someone else before coming to you. You hum and tilt your head at his interruption, waiting for him to finish his sentence. “Jungkook… does love strawberries.”

Though your work ethics are questionable for how exhausting they are, it gets the job done sooner. The moment you’re assigned a task, you do it, regardless of if it’s yours or Jungkook's. Saturday evening and Sunday are free for you, so you spend your time outside after leaving your backpack in your dorm. You think you look silly, taking pictures of anything you find interesting to post on Instagram. You made an account, but it appears like a bot with its empty feed. Jungkook enjoys doing this, so you want to try it as well.

You don’t stray far from campus because you’d easily get lost, and your gallery looks boring to you. The only decent photo you have is with Taehyung, but you want to post a picture with Jungkook before anyone else. You grumble under your breath while walking back to the dormitory building. You look through Jungkook’s posts again as you do so with a smile.

A heavy arm slings over your shoulder and hitches your breath just as the culprit says, “What’s the rush?” He doesn’t even look at you, and you wonder if he recognized you from your clothes after coming up from behind you.

“Jungkookie!” you cheer excitedly. He glances at you and quirks a brow at the nickname. His eyes then trail to your lit up phone and snatches it from you, which you don’t fight against.

“You’re stalking me?” He scrolls through his profile from your phone and smirks before stating, “I didn’t know you had an Insta.” The both of you enter the building with his arm still wrapped around you, which flutters your heart.

“I made one today, since you use it.” He exits his profile to look at yours. You’re in the elevator as you inform, “Taehyung told me.”

A pause, then a click. Jungkook snapped a photo of you when you pressed the button of your floor. “Pretty,” he comments while looking at your candid shot. You’re flattered and also happy that he’s joining your trip to your dorm. He hasn’t said a word of protest and takes the lead in going to your room. “What else?”

“Hm?”

“What else did he tell you?”

You rack your brain to remember anything significant to tell him. It was a long conversation: getting to know each other and more about Jungkook. “He told me you have an Instagram, then asked for my perfume, and then we talked about your love for strawberries-”

“Your perfume? Why was Instagram even brought up?” he presses, stopping in front of your door.

You take out your keycard and shrug while swiping, “He asked for mine.”

The dorm is empty when you enter and sit on the edge of your bed. It’s very hard to not grin when you’re around Jungkook, but he doesn’t seem to care as he looks through your gallery. “Can we take a picture together?” you peep hopefully.

“Of course,” he murmurs absentmindedly, intently staring at your phone. “We’ll take many pictures,” he looks up at you before leveling with the camera, “pose.”

You aren’t very educated on the art of posing per se, so you imitate the peace sign you saw him do with a wide smile and a hand on the bed. He is neutral when he snaps a picture with a shutter.

“I want you to be in it.”

He drags his eyes away from the screen and his blank expression intimidates you. “Whose idea was it for you to make an account?”

“Um… Taehyung, why?” You lay your hands on your lap at the growing tension.

Taehyung went to this extent to get a reaction out of him? Is it possible that he’s this obnoxious? Or perhaps another motive…?

“I-Is he not your friend?”

Jungkook breaks his silence of thoughts with a scoff, “Oh, only the best.” You sigh in relief, though he says it with menace. Taehyung was curious about his relationship, not about your social media. He forcefully pushes you down on the bed and you hold back a gasp as he wraps his finger around your neck in a light chokehold with a thumb on your nether lip. Click. He then lowers his hand to your thigh, hiding half of it under your skirt with a gentle grap. Click.

Your cheeks flush at the compromising photos he’s taking and you nervously ask, “A-Am I going to post these?”

“Shut up.”

You seal your lips shut and he flips you on your stomach, palming your covered ass with your side profile in the frame, and another shutter resounds in the room. “Sit up.” You follow his command and turn around to face him. He pushes your hair to your back and his mouth latches onto your neck. He’s biting you while sucking on your flesh, and you release a breathy moan at the feeling of his tongue swirling on the sensitive skin. It hurts, but you don’t complain and try to make sense of the growing arousal in your lower region. He only pulls away after half a minute and you’re confused by the satisfied smirk on his face while eyeing the result. He angles your jaw to expose your neck better and snaps another photo. “These are all going on your account.”

At your nod of submission, he starts unbuttoning your shirt. “You’re prettier with a mark. My mark.” Your body tingles at the compliment and you help him undress yourself by unbuttoning the ends. “Take off your skirt,” he demands as he slips off his shirt with ease. All of your clothes go off one by one as he does the same, and you don’t have the time to feel shy as his lips collide so roughly with yours that you’re pressed down against the mattress again. You still haven’t gotten the hang of making out, but it doesn’t matter with Jungkook because although it flows naturally, he also takes complete control over you. He’s not gentle, not with the way his teeth clash against yours and tongue leaving trails of saliva all over your mouth. Your toes curl with desire and anticipation, and you tug at his briefs that outline his erection. The feeling of his warm breath on you silences all your thoughts and you can only react on primal instincts.

His crotch brushes against your bare folds, slick with your leaking wetness. Kissing him this passionately always leaves you feeling needy, and it embarrasses you that you get turned on so easily. But you don’t realize that is his intention as he glides his fingers all over your labia, making sure you’re ready to take all of him.

Kissing you this passionately always leaves him feeling horny, and it’s apparent with his cock begging to be taken out of the restraints of his underwear. You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, but your lips are numb when he pulls away to position himself in your entrance. He doesn’t prepare you, but he doesn’t rush himself either as he painfully slowly enters you. You hold your breath and gawn on your swollen lip, moans catching in your throat and leaving as high-pitched hums. He sighs at the feeling of your pulsating walls. “God… always so tight. Don’t you ever touch yourself?”

He bottoms out and you whimper shakily at how full you are. The fact that he fits you like a puzzle piece convinces you that he’s your forever, your meant to be. Even with your lack of experience with other men, you believe no one can make you feel this dreamy. And to think he’s all yours now… “I-I don’t. I only want to do it with you.”

The atmosphere is so fragile, so romantic. It’s not your delusion this time, because he feels it too and it makes his heartbeat sync with yours: unsteady and rapid. And in the heat of the moment, he reveals, “I think I’m in love with you.”

A whine leaves you, so loud that it can’t be achieved with touch but with his words. It’s the utmost pleasure, and when he realizes what he said, he sets a rushed pace to distract himself from the embarrassment of pouring his feelings. You don’t allow him to forget as you echo, “I’m in love with you too.”

“No, no,” he denies with a shake of his head and it emits more love confessions out of you in a chain of ‘I love you’s, and he grunts, “Stop. Shut up!” He pins your forearms on either side of your head in a bruisening grip and thrusts into you harder. You have no choice but to scream in pleasure, unable to form coherent words when he’s practically fucking your brains out.

His feelings of humiliation translate to his actions: he pushes himself down to the hilt, throbbing with lust but doesn’t chase his high. He doesn’t want you to talk, not when he’s blushing for more than one reason, so he ignores the contraction of his muscles and just fucks you until he can’t anymore, hypnotized by the bounce of your tits.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he’s so desperate, hitting your most sensitive spot with every thrust and making your eyes screw back. Neither of you can think, so loud and reckless until you reach your climax. It’s core shaking, as you cry out his name and tremble with stimulation. He’s never seen this expression on your face, one so twisted in pleasure and looking so erotic. It comes as a surprise and in the form of a punch in the gut as he savours your appearance before cumming inside you with a groan. A slip-up, a mistake, but he doesn’t care as he paints your walls in white, his load filling you up.

And he can’t regret it when he pulls out, because the drizzle of his cum spilling out of your pussy easily becomes his favorite sight. “Shit,” he whispers as more and more drips while you twitch and spasm from your orgasm. You don’t even realize what he’s done, and that makes his chest swell with pride; the most level-headed woman he knows is leaking with his release and stupidly doesn’t spare it a thought. And with that hickey on your neck? “You look fucking gorgeous,” he exhales. A bashful smile stretches across your face with eyes still tightly shut, and you don’t notice him grab your phone on the other side of the bed to take a picture of your stained pussy.

“This one is for me,” he mutters to himself. Click.

After posting the softcore photos on your account and tagging himself in them, as well as a note of a pharmacy’s address across campus with a label written for you to get two separate contraceptives as an emergency and for your next creampie, he leaves your dorm. You fell asleep on him, and though he had wanted to join you, he decided to collect his scrambled thoughts and go to Taehyung’s dorm first. He isn’t livid, but he has a few questions to ask.

He’s playing cards with Yoongi, Taehyung’s roommate, as he patiently waits for his arrival. “What’s wrong about asking for her Instagram, though?” Yoongi asks before drawing out a card of ace. “Isn’t she our friend by association anyway?”

“It’s suspicious,” Jungkook murmurs while inspecting his deck. “Have you ever seen Taehyung with a girl before? As friends? He’s clearly trying to fuck her.”

Yoongi stifles a laugh, “That’s a reach. Besides, you two have shared a girl before. Are you actually dating her?”

Shuffling is heard behind the door until it swings open as Taehyung enters. “Kookie! What are you doing here?” He throws his keycard on his bed before hopping on Yoongi’s to watch their game.

It’s strained, Jungkook notices. His excitement is forced; why? “I came here for you,” he states bluntly. “A little birdie told me you’ve been talking to someone who belongs to me.”

“I didn’t realize she was your diary,” he tries to lighten the mood with a joke. “What’s the deal anyway? You said you weren’t dating her.”

Yoongi collects the deck of cards after Jungkook drops them, and shuffles them while eavesdropping. He’s sitting cross-legged across from Jungkook, and Taehyung is sitting on the edge of the bed next to him with his body turned sideways.

“I also said that unless you have a death wish, don’t talk to her,” he grits. “And asking for her social media? Are you into her now?”

Taehyung merely shrugs. “I thought she was pretty chill. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“She obviously means something to him, so I think you should just respect that, Taehyung,” Yoongi voices his thoughts while leafing the cards. Jungkook looks to the side and pokes the inner cheek of his mouth with his tongue but doesn’t argue.

“I think he’s just using her.” Jungkook’s reaction is instant as Taehyung’s nose instantly starts to bleed from the impact of his fist. Yoongi doesn’t look up. He holds a hand over his injury with a hiss and continues, “Really, Kook? A little too much, don’t you think?”

“Less than enough,” Jungkook fumes, “I like her, and she likes me. Just fucking leave it at that.”

“Couple of the year,” Taehyung chuckles mockingly, “I give it two days.” He stands up before Jungkook can hit him again. “Can’t wait to console her after your break-up, maybe she’ll fall in love with me next.”

Jungkook starts chasing him around the room as Taehyung runs without stopping his provocation. “Why so upset Jungkook? Do you see it happening too? I’m already imagining how tight-”

“You should leave, Jungkook.” Neither of them listen to Yoongi, so he yells, “Jungkook, leave!”

A moment of deafening silence passes as both of them pause to catch their breaths. “She’s too sweet,” Taehyung begins, “too kind, too nice, everything you’re not. You wouldn’t be trying to keep me away from her if you didn’t know that. Are you afraid she’ll like me better?”

“Go fuck yourself,” Jungkook spits with a heaving chest. “She’s loyal to me, but I’m sure you’re not familiar with that concept. No wonder your relationships only last one night.” With a final glare, he leaves as told to return to you. The only thing he needs right now is one more ‘I love you’ from you, as much as he hates it. Maybe he’s cruel, but he doesn’t know anyone who isn’t aside from you.

Maybe Taehyung is just as cruel, fantasizing about all the ways he could be better for you before drifting off to sleep with a bandage over his wounded nose. He can just be a friend to both of you… he can be good too…

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jjk smut #bts fic #kpop #jungkook fic #jeon jungoook smut

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hargrove-mayfields · 4 years ago

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Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #harringrove #it’s implied harringrove at least because Steve is the boyfriend in question #story by ej!#ej writer #this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go #it was also initially from a much larger story #I just decided this was the only part I like #if you take note of the date tho I think y’all can probably tell where I was going with this #just wanted to write Billy coming out to Max because we as a fandom kinda decided that she already knew bc of that one vague convo #but like that stuff is really hard to pick up on when you’re the clueless little sister #(trust me lol)#I think it’s more something like maybe she snitched on him for doing smthn neil knew was Bc he was gay but she didn’t #and she never put the pieces together until he told her #featuring (subtle) autistic Max bc when doesn’t my writing #and colorblind Billy if you squint with the nail polish

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kitkatpancakestack · 3 years ago

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Greetings! So, you've talked about the Quantum Principle of Impenetrability when it came to Buck and Ana. How they were attempting to occupy the same space in Eddie's orbit, and the laws of physics wouldn't let them. How Ana wasn't actually a person, she was always a means to an end, a coping mechanism, an avatar for Eddie's desperate (last ditch?) fight to cling to heterosexuality. How Buck basically never spoke to her — barring that one phone call when Eddie woke up, after Taylor kissed Buck, hmm — how Buck doesn't even look at Ana. Not in an angry or passive-aggressive way, but like she's a non-entity, to the point that Buck only sees himself when contemplating Ana ("I've been Ana..." HeLLO).

I'm curious about your take on the corollary with Eddie and Taylor vis a vis Buck? Because contrary to Buck with Ana, Eddie acutely feels Taylor's presence in Buck's life. I mean, he was all "your GiRlFrIeNd ☹" before they were even a thing. Obviously he's jealous, and she brings out a delightfully petty and bitchy side to our lovely, kind, manifestly good Eddie. But there's something deeper going on, right?

Ana was a non-entity, while Taylor seems to take up a lot more space, perhaps looming much larger in Eddie's mind than she actually is in reality. I would love any thoughts on what we might be learning about Eddie (and Buck) in this next phase of their love story?

(I hope it goes without saying that for the purposes of discourse, I only care about Buck and Eddie and their love story. She's in it, and her presence can teach us something about them.)

@yramesoruniverse I'm so glad you've dropped by with this, I've been thinking a lot about this actually.

"Quantum Principle of Impenetrability" god I love that.

It's way too purposeful to be anything but deliberate. It's interesting the way Buck and Ana were always paralleled in isolation of each other, but Eddie and Taylor were/are frequently paralleled with some degree of proximity. Let's compare the two dynamics:

Buck and Ana are jarringly paralleled, ever since her introduction episode, which often reads like a "2.01 part two" to me (I could go into detail on the unbelievable parallels between that episode and Fools but I'm tryna keep this word count to a minimum). And yet, the only two times we see Buck and Ana in a room together, it's when she's literally stepping to the side so Buck and Eddie can make relieved heart eyes at each other, and when she brings Chris to the station during the blackout and is the catalyst for another Eddie panic attack, which snowballs into the Therapy Scene with Buck.

I think it's important to note that THEY DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL IN THESE SCENES. Ana looks back at Buck in 4.14 before stepping aside, but that is the extent of any semblance of acknowledgement. It's so fucking weird, it's literally like they are the same entity and cannot occupy space at the same moment in time. For all intents and purposes, to Eddie, they kind of are. They serve similar if not identical positions in his life emphasized in Buck's hypothetical scenario of himself as Ana.

Comparing this with Eddie and Taylor, these two are very much pitted against each other, literally give me the two most incompatible things and that's them. Whereas Buck and Ana were made from the same mold, it's like Eddie and Taylor are made from the same ingredients but following different recipes. Eddie is vocal and physically open about his dislike for Taylor. He portrays this when she is merely mentioned in passing and also when she's in the same vicinity. It's never open volatility but jfc it is petty and passive aggressive af and I love it.

It's like, here are these two people who are essentially offering Buck the same thing (the ingredients) but when it all comes together (the recipe as a whole) they are wildly different in terms of what they can offer and how they taste, in keeping with the cooking metaphor.

I wonder if these parallels and dynamics reflect Eddie and Buck's respective headspace? Eddie who is searching for this specific person to be his partner, who already had it in one person and then forcibly tries to make it work with another, these two people who serve the same purpose but are just different. And it plays on maybe the poetic irony of him endlessly searching and aching over the concept of this person when it's been right in front of him for years.

And then Buck, who needs a louder and more obvious affirmation, who needs to have these two people in front of him being actively compared and contrasted to connect the dots, because while Eddie knows what he wants, Buck maybe only knows what he doesn't want, and if what he thought he wanted unfurls into this thing he realizes is not working and is not what he envisions for his future, and then it is simultaneously levelled against this thing he never looked too closely at before but now with something to compare it against, he realizes yes that, that is what I want , well.....

This post has gotten away from me but the dynamics and parallels between these four people....it keeps me up at night. If this is headed where I think it is god how good is that writing???? Im losing my mind.

#yramesoruniverse #buddie #buddie meta #quantum theory of impenetrability #i love this fucking fandom #on my meta shit again me thinks #evan buckley #eddie diaz #ask #it's answering asks hours #long ass post

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kojinnie · 4 years ago

Text

With The Exception of You

I dislike everyone in the room.

Pairing/Character: Reiner x Reader (she/her), Porco Galliard

Tags: SFW, fluff, college!au, Reiner Braun is a jock who is tired of his own friends, secret relationship

WC: 3.2K

Summary: Reiner had agreed to be in a discreet relationship with you, but after six months and with the arrival of Porco Galliard around you, he couldn’t help but to mark his territory.

Reiner couldn’t seem to fathom the butterflies wreaking havoc in his stomach. It came out of nowhere, as it often happened to be. Once in a while, he could feel his guts twisting as his chest filled with overflown emotions at odd times. Reiner hated it when it happened, because as much as he wanted to convince himself that he wasn’t self-aware of his image, those feelings could potentially strip himself off of his cool guy status.

Reiner had come to realize that such strange feeling often occurred caused by the sight of you.

It could be anything. Things so mundane, so simple. Like the way you twisted the pen in your fingers, the way you squinted your eyes at the blackboard during a lecture, and how you hastily scribbled things on your leather-bound notebook.

Or maybe it’s the way you sighed deliberately loud when someone uttered a dumb, sexist remark in class with no trace of shame, after they tried to debate your sound, well-researched opinion, and how you’d resolved it with a sarcasm that could disintegrate a man’s ego. Reiner sat on the corner of the classroom, disguising his chuckle by clearing his throat, finally coming to experience what they had called butterflies-in-your-stomach all along.

At that point he had found himself painfully and helplessly in love with you.

He was well-aware of how different the two of you were. Reiner was the athlete, admitted to the uni through football scholarship, and you were the hard-working academician that mostly kept to yourself – hard to approach, hard to tame. Reiner hated how stereotypical he was – tall, buff, blonde, jock, with cheerleader exes and a DM full of thirst trap from his assembly of admirers. Reiner once wished he was anything but a cookie-cutter of everything you had been appalled of.

Reiner could feel every ounce of confidence he had ever had shriveled around your presence. It’s the way the two of you almost collided to each other at the campus hallway, and the way you threw an acknowledging, formal smile at him before striding away that made his heart ached. He wished you’d run to him and shriek his name with affection, but Reiner realized you were not one of his cheerleader exes, and not that he wanted you to be one. You were an anomaly he had yet to understand. A misplaced figure sticking out of his history of penchant for conformity.

“I really like you.” one day he finally said. Never had he been weak on the knees for a confession to any girl before, but this one occurrence? He did.

He didn’t know how he mustered the courage, but after hours, days and weeks he had spent trying to know you – learning your favorite song, accompanying you for book hunting, baking your favorite muffins, texting you good morning and good night – he finally got you alone, in the campus library, only five minutes before closing time.

You laughed at first, because the confession sounded ridiculous to you. The last thing you needed was a horde of girls sending you anonymous hate comments on Insta because you took the campus’ most eligible hunk off of the market. But he didn’t laugh along, and that was when realization hit you.

“So, is that why you’ve been following me around?”

Reiner furrowed his thin, almost non-existent brow, “What do you think?”

“I thought you were just bored with your jock friends,” you scoffed, “because you know, I’d be bored out of my ears too if all I ever heard all day is insecure men constantly praising themselves.” you glanced at Reiner, trying to discover even the slightest amusement on his hardened face to no avail.

“Reiner, are you serious?”

He sighed, couldn’t believe his ears. The first time ever Reiner caught you being stupid beyond recognition, “For the millionth times, yes.”

“You’ve only said it once, though.”

“For fuck’s sake,” the jock grunted, but there was a slight smile arose from his face, “I like you, really much. Times eight hundred ninety-eight thousand.”

“And?”

“So would you be my girlfriend?”

And you said yes, after three minutes of hesitation, you said yes. With a laughter. Because the absurdity of you being with someone like Reiner was lurid. Yet still, you were in no capacity to lie when his good morning text had been the most unsubstantiated text you looked forward to every day.

You wondered why? It’s just text. But maybe, you tried to convince yourself, it’s because of the effort he put, of trying to wake earlier before you every morning although he was hardly a morning person. Or it’s the way he listened to your kind of music although he was practically tone deaf, and returned to you the next week with his analysis on why your favorite band’s first album was their masterpiece and that sadly they never outdid it with any of their following albums.

And maybe, it’s the sight of the topless Reiner in the football field, after a home match. The way he was quick to run to the side of the field with his Captain instinct, lurching himself towards the start of a brawl between the two teams’ players, heated by animosity over the match result. Reiner was strong enough to break at least ten muscular jocks apart from throwing punches at each other, and with his deep, stern, authoritative voice, he commanded them to “Stop it. Fuck off.” You remembered immediately leaving the bleachers and found the nearest toilet because you needed to breathe and that you felt things simmering in your nether area. You never felt like that before to any of your exes.

Reiner knew the mutual pining between the two of you was evident, and so he was left puzzled when you said, “But please don’t tell anyone yet.” He asked why, but you only shrugged your shoulder with an answer that gave very little explanation, “I just don’t feel like having people talk about us.”

Reiner trusted you, because at first, he thought it was for modesty, you were not a fan of the limelight, evidently. Or it’s for practical reason, you don’t want to be burdened by society’s expectation on how two adults in relationship should be. Reiner could make 1,000 excuses for you that would justify your terms and conditions, so he went with what you wanted, because he was so hopelessly into you.

Nonetheless, still he enjoyed holding your hand in the dark alley of the campus – away from all the prying eyes, or the girls that’d giggle walking past the beautiful giant. Still he liked to have you sleeping naked in his embrace, making lazy circles with his calloused digits on your small back, at the emptiness of his dorm room when his roommate was home early for Christmas. Still he enjoyed teasing you at unassuming place, at the quiet library, studying together in silence for the upcoming exams, he’d be sitting next to you, leaning to his chair and slithered his right hand underneath your sweatshirt, to playfully and quickly unclasped your bra, only for you to smack his stomach in annoyance. He liked you, and he liked how you scurried to the restroom to fix your bra. He liked to be with you, no matter in silence or in noise.

However, after six months, questions started to throb incessantly inside Reiner’s mind. Even after all the time you had spent together, why must still he go alone to the football team soiree? Why would you let his team mate thought that Reiner was single, and promised him chances with girls, left and right? Why were you unfazed to see the girls sliding into his DMs? And when you put on that tight, backless black dress on New Year’s Eve, why would you put it for your friends’ party, and not for his eyes only? Why would you color your lips with the blood red Chanel lipstick Reiner gave you, and smile at other people that’s not him?

Reiner could not make sense of you. He pondered, he wondered and he became jealous. He’d look at you intently and see whether there was any trace of other man on you that he had not recognized? He’d become quiet and his friends thought he had gotten sensitive over nothing. The captain had become agitated, irritable and his head was hardly in the game – all with seemingly no reason.

Reiner began to think that he knew the reason why. He thought it’s the boy you’d met at the Academic Writing class, with stupid name and equally stupid undercut. Porco Galliard, you said his name was. In an instance his name had become a staple in your conversation. When Reiner asked you out for a dinner, it’d be like, “Ah sorry babe, I got this assignment with Porco.” A trip to the zoo? “You know, Porco have this funny experience with apes.” A night out in his dorm? By the point Reiner had a half-boner forming already seeing you in your lounge shorts, you’d be giggling and stayed busy with your phone. Reiner asked, “What’s so funny, babe?”

“What’s so funny, babe?” he asked again, because you didn’t seem to hear the first time he asked you. Distracted, you showed a stupid meme on your phone, “Porco sent me this.”

Porco here, Porco there. Reiner was sick of hearing that dumb name.

He had tried to look up for his background, and he hated to find that all that ever came up about him were amicable. His friends knew him, said he was chill, said he was smart as fuck, said he had a cool family, said he turned down a track and field scholarship for law school. Porco Galliard is a cool dude, they all said.

At certain point Reiner had grown to be furious, and the more your text messages became sparse or the more you spent your Saturday nights without him, the more he set his mind to do something about the two of you. He had become so sick of hiding and he wanted the whole world to know that you were his. Especially that guy with a name that sounded like her mother hated giving birth to him.

So came that day. You hadn’t been replying to his texts since morning, and only did so after chains of messages he left.

[you | 11.35] oh my god reiner!!! I’M SO SORRY, i left my phone uncharged all morning. i’m heading to cafeteria rn, it’s muffin tuesday 😵👅

[reiner | 06.37] good morning baby

[reiner | 07.49] you awake now?

[reiner | 08.15] sleepyhead 😪💤 see you today pretty

[reiner | 10.23] i got practice today until late. see you tonight? my room?

[reiner | 10.55] are you in class rn?

[reiner | 11.36] wanna go together?

[you | 11.45] haha noo a lot of people there

[reiner | 11.45] who r u going with?

[you | 11.55] with pockooo haha we got class together after lunch

Pocko. Is that an endearing term you came up with for the jizzhead? Reiner thought, pissed off beyond compare. He paced restlessly in his room, trying to figure out what did Porco have that he didn’t have? Thinking of how his undercut made his head looked way bigger for his neck, just like sperm; and it made Reiner mad angry. “Fuck you, Jizzhead”, he hissed, kicking the pile of dirty laundry on his dorm room.

The cafeteria was bustling busy when you arrived with Porco. The two of you immediately joined the line for lunch and the muffin. The man was busy babbling about yet another stupid thing that he had done back in high school, but your mind was darted on the muffins that were sold off fast. You looked around and almost everyone you disliked were present – mostly Reiner’s jock friends and their girlfriends. The prospect of one day going public with Reiner and having to spare days in your life to socialize with these loud people made you squirm. Not that you were completely against it, you were just… enormously reluctant to do so. Also, what would they say about you? You barely existed for them, evident by how they just greeted Porco with huge affection, yet pretended like you were invisible despite the fact that you were talking and standing close to him.

Your mind was elsewhere, between eyeing the muffin and managing your detest towards the it crowd, you weren’t even listening to the small talk that Porco was having with some of the jocks, until the mention of your name spilled out of Porco’s mouth, “Hey, have you guys known ___ before?”

You blinked with surprise, and they looked at you unenthusiastically, “Ummm, no?” one of them said.

Porco stared at them in disbelief, as if not knowing you was a big sin, “Get to know then! She’s cool, she’s really into—” but even before Porco could finish his words, they averted their attention elsewhere, pulling out their phone like it was the most important thing in the world, and talked amongst themselves. How fitting, because the first thing they talked about as an excuse for ignoring you was to talk about Reiner, “The captain’s been grumpy. Haha. That man. What’s up with him?” You cringed, because you knew there was no weight in talking about Reiner that must be done at that time, that moment. They just wanted a reason not to be roped into talking to you, obviously because you didn’t think you were cool enough or some other shit excuse only them and their bobbleheads understand. So, conveniently throwing out Reiner’s name was an effective way to basically say ‘haha look at us talking about the coolest guy in the campus so you know we’re in this cool clique unlike you’. You read them too well. You couldn’t even be amused anymore.

Porco looked embarrassed, he smiled at you awkwardly and stayed silent, until one of the girls threw their attention back to the man dirty blond undercut, “Anyway, Porco, do you know Reiner?”

“Ah, I haven’t had the chance to.”

The girl frowned rather dramatically, “Oh my god, we all should totally hang out together with Reiner, right? He’s like—super cool.” her question was obviously in exclusion of you. You rolled your eyes and turned away to see new text from Reiner appearing.

[reiner | 12.15] im going there

[you | 12.16] convenient. right in time. your cool friends are all here and you can sit with them and be cool with them or whatever I guess haha

You immediately pulled your phone to your chest; you could feel your heart thumping. Is this it? Is this it? The question became menacing in your head, because you were not sure on what Reiner was planning to do. The line to the muffin was still far away, and it would be stupid to run away.

[reiner | 12.17] idgaf about em

[reiner | 12.19] i want u

You could hear the girls were still talking about Reiner. Reiner this, Reiner that. You were nowhere to lie that you could feel your chest heat up with annoyance. The way their squeaking voice praised Reiner’s body, Reiner’s personality, Reiner’s wit. For the first time, you knew you were experiencing jealousy, vibrant and up-close.

“You know what? One time, Reiner thought that the way I did my hair was so cute that he wanted—”

Just in time, one of the boys raised his voice, “Oi Reiner!” and in unison the jocks erupted, welcoming his arrival like they were in some goddamn party.

You could see Reiner walking towards the line you were in, his face was hardened and his walk was swift. You immediately turned away to look at the opposite direction, not wanting to see him.

“Yooo Reiner! Where have you been? We’ve missed you dude,” one of them said. You cringed at how they all tried so hard to sound cool, “have you met Porco, by the way? And his friend—”

“—hey, what’s her name again?” one of the girls chimed in, asking Porco instead of asking you directly, as if you were not there. At that point, Reiner was standing not too far behind you, and you pretended like you were too busy with your phone, hoping the floor would engulf you instead.

“Is she like, deaf or something?” the girl whispered to Porco with a jeer, before getting back to Reiner, “So, Rei, I’ve got this party—”

“—yo Capt, do you know that—”

“—have you heard about the news, dude? Like—”

The way all these people tried to suck up to Reiner was so pathetic and incessant, they all chirped like hungry birds all in a matter of couple of seconds. You hated them and you hated the situation.

“—come on, Capt, that would be awesome—”

“—oh my gosh, Rei—”

“—you must try it, Rei—"

“Shut the fuck up,” Reiner said. Rather abruptly. His voice was cold and deep, like he couldn’t give a damn in this world about any of them. Surprised, they all dropped quiet in an instance. You looked over your back at him. Reiner was staring at you, and at you alone, not even at the Jizzhead he had grown to hate so much, “you all talk too fucking much.”

You snorted, suppressing a laughter to escape from your mouth. Clearly, it was too audible, that the girls were now looking at you with complete disdain.

“Babe,” Reiner said, staring at you, while you were still facing the opposite direction, “babe, what are you doing with this Jizzhead here? I can bake you muffins remember? If you want it so much.”

Your surrounding fell deep in silence. Everyone was either confused or surprised. Murmur started to sweep over the crowd, most audible was: ‘Who is Jizzhead?’

You scoffed, finally turning your back, although still closing your mouth trying to prevent the laughter and the embarrassment to display itself.

“What the hell?” one of the girls asked in dismay, obviously she was one of the girls sliding into Reiner’s DM and sending him bikini photos by the pretense of ‘Rei, you should join us for summer holiday!’ when all she wanted to do was to show her tits.

“Shut up,” Reiner said to her, baffling the girl to complete silence, “and stop sending me your beach photos. They’re ugly.”

An uproar of restraint laughter was heard throughout the cafeteria.

“Babe,” Reiner said again, this time extending his arms toward you, gesturing for you to come closer, “now you know why I need you, right? My friends are fucking whack.”

Few laughter was starting to break. Yet Reiner was unfazed.

“Reiner, what—”

“—yo dude, what the hell?

“—who is she?”

“—are they dating?”

“And listen here, you hag,” Reiner now turned his attention to the girl who called you deaf, “she’s got a name. Her name is ___, and she’s my fucking girlfriend.”

Embarrassed yet amused, you finally let out a small chuckle, “Reiner, please you’re humiliating me.”

“Whatever,” he shrugged off. Reiner now turned his attention to Porco, “and listen here you, Jizzhead. You can be nice to her but keep in your fucking mind, she’s mine.”

Without hesitation, Reiner pulled your hand and yanked you closer to him. You stared at him for a second, eyes broadened and heart thumping, “Reiner, what are you gonna do—”

“—shut up.” he said, cupping your face with his gigantic hands, and pulled your face roughly to him, before landing his dry, chapped lips to yours. He had gone sick of pretending, and doing things in secret. So there Reiner Braun was, hungrily, longingly, sloppily devouring your lips with his mouth, so deep, so thirsty of your taste. He finally showed the world who the true owner of his heart was. You.

#reiner x reader #reiner x you #reiner braun #attack on titan reiner braun #porco galliard #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #reiner fluff #attack on titan #aot fluff

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

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Fighting Fire With Fire (Reid Fic)

Summary: Reader must lower her pride after a date goes wrong and the only one who can rescue her is her mortal enemy - Spencer Reid.

A/N: This was a beast of a fic to write. It’s been in my WIP since September, and I managed to go from 11 pages to 22 pages in three days. It is now my longest fic thus far. I am insanely fucking proud of it and I hope it does well. Category: Angst Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Content Warning: allusions to ‘catfishing,’ allusions to abduction, dub-con to taking provocative photos, alcohol, mentions of bruises, jealousy, carrying hug which implies weight of Reader (lmk if I missed anything) Word Count: 11.7k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

I tried to play nice; I really did, but there was no getting through to him. Everyday started and ended with us fighting fire with fire.

Maybe the reason the two of you butt heads so often is because of how similar you are.

That’s what the team would say when Spencer and I got into one of our daily (sometimes hourly) arguments.

They constantly encouraged us to get to know each other so that we’d finally see the likeness, and until recently, I wasn’t opposed to the idea. I was willing to do whatever it took to get him to like me. However, as previously mentioned, my willingness quickly dissipated in light of recent events.

Voluntarily spending more time than necessary with him would be a recipe for disaster no doubt.

Somehow, in a matter of a month, Reid decided that he simply did not enjoy my presence, which was the nice way of putting it.

To be more crass, he loathed me to no end.

Initially, I was operating under the assumption that he wasn’t fond of change, and with me joining the BAU, the change was too much too fast for him, but after four weeks, his attitude toward me never deviated. Yet again, I made another excuse for him, arguing to myself that people are allowed to not like me. I could respect that, but where he lost my respect was how he made a conscious effort to remind me of how much he despised me. Even when I was at my nicest, he still treated me like a scelerate.

If there was a prize for gaining a mortal enemy in the shortest amount of time, I guess I already won that without even trying. He hated me with a burning passion, for reasons unbeknownst to me, despite the fact that all I’d ever try to do was be his friend.

For far too long, I kept denying the part of me that knew making peace with him outside of work wouldn’t go well and it’d simply go down in history as another failed attempt of mine to form a bond with him, so it was at this point that I decided to face the facts.

He didn’t make it easy for me, either. It was hard having to be kind to someone that was only ever out to get me.

He would constantly correct me but only after I said something incorrectly, just so he could prove me wrong.

“If each police officer patrols a street, we’ll be able to cover the entire comfort zone.”

“Actually, we’d need three more officers if we want to cover the entire comfort zone. There’s still 2.347 miles that are unaccounted for.”

I never understood why he couldn’t just say his piece before me so that I didn’t look like an idiot, but I suppose that was the point.

And he had this infuriating, unwarranted habit of judging my taste in cinema and literature. Anytime I told Emily or Derek about a movie I saw or told Rossi about a book I read, he felt compelled to share his antagonistic opinions as if I asked for them in the first place. Sometimes even spoiling the endings for me!

“Rossi, I just started reading Doctor Sleep!” I was so eager to tell Rossi that, so much so that I’d become blind to one dark cloud’s own eagerness to ruin the fun.

“The hotel burns to the ground, but the ghosts don’t die with it.”

He said it with such monotony and nonchalance, not even bothering to look up from his own book to watch my reaction to his menacing act. He just didn’t care!

The list of reasons not to like him truly did go on and on, so it was almost insulting how people would compare the two of us.

They’d bring up the congruence in intelligence, the same affinity for reading, and closeness in age, but it only made me madder. The last person I wanted to resemble was Reid, except today, I gained another glaring similarity to him.

“Look at you two. Did you plan your outfits or something?” Emily playfully pointed out after I walked into the conference room.

I eyed the doctor sipping at his cup of coffee who swiveled around in his chair to see what everyone else was seeing. Just from a short glance, I spotted his navy blue button-up with white polka dots that was nearly identical to the color and print of my dress.

“Well, looks like one of us has to go home and change.” His lips grew into a mischievous smirk behind the rim of his mug.

Was that a joke? Did Spencer Reid make jokes now?

“Ha ha. Very funny.” I facetiously remarked, taking the only open seat at the table which was next to the jokester himself.

“I’m kidding. You look really nice today.” He alleged without a hint of irony. He was complimenting me now, too? It was so unfamiliar that it felt like uncharted territory, possibly even a trap.

“Why? Because I’m dressed like you?” I wasn’t going to fall for his words now, maybe the version of me who would do anything to gain his approval would have. She would’ve smiled and said ‘thank you,’ but this me was going to challenge him if that was the last thing I ever did. “Bit of a narcissist are we, Dr. Reid?”

“Mmm maybe,” He wagered, tilting his head from side to side as if to contemplate the possibility. “Or maybe I just really think you look nice.”

Without even thinking, my heart skipped a beat. I was utterly repulsed by how I let his words have any effect over me. I couldn’t believe that he’d actually managed to fluster me with mediocre flattery.

It felt like years that I had to sit next to Reid at the round table before Hotch dismissed the team for the flight.

30 minutes later, and we were on the jet. I’d taken one of the seats at the table opposite Derek and Emily, with Spencer beside me.

Little things like this I could handle, but I knew it wouldn’t be long before he started bothering me. Morgan was listening to music and Emily was turned around in her seat, facing the back to talk to Rossi. Reid was playing himself in chess, and it took all of my self-control to not be a total asshole and knock the board and its pieces over and into the aisle. Luckily, I had a good enough distraction.

Grant: can you ft tonight?

Me: we’ll see. i might have to work overtime.

For the months that I had been talking to Grant, I was deliberately ambiguous about my job because I wasn’t exactly keen on telling him that I worked for the FBI and that I might not be able to FaceTime him since I was in the process of investigating a series of homicides. That’d surely scare him away and I was never one to flaunt my government job anyway.

Grant: you look stunning today

Me: you haven’t even seen me today

Grant: don’t need to.

Grant: you’ll always be stunning to me.

“Who keeps texting you?”

I looked up from my screen to see Reid fixated on his game but still engaged in my business.

“No one,” I harshly replied, making a conscious decision to turn my phone on vibrate so he wouldn’t hear the chime of my text notifications.

With one nimble side glance, Reid eyed my screen. I nudged him away with extra force.

“Nosy much?!”

This stunned him. He wasn’t used to my coldness, he probably expected me to smile in a chagrined manner and not confront it - as I would have done - but now I was fighting back, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he liked it.

I knew he could read fast, but how he managed to look at my phone so quickly it was like he never even moved his eyes - I didn’t know. Somehow, though, he managed to capture Grant’s entire username, and I didn’t doubt that he caught my entire conversation with him, too.

“Who’s Grant?” The name rolled off his tongue like he was insulted to even be saying it.

“No one.”

He didn’t respond soon after I said this, which I misinterpreted as a little victory for me since I almost believed he was going to drop the subject, but in true Spencer Know It All Reid fashion, he just kept going.

“‘You look stunning today B-T-W. You haven’t even seen me today. Don’t need to. You’ll always be stunning to me.’ Doesn’t really sound like a ‘no one’ to me.” His recitation of my entire PRIVATE conversation with Grant embarrassed me.

Did I forget to add his eidetic memory and speed-reading ability to the list of reasons not to like him?

“Shut up!” I nudged him, this time using much more force than the last. I was becoming more and more inclined to push over his ridiculous chess game so that he’d finally take me seriously.

“Oh, really clever by the way. Vaguely insinuating that you ‘might not be able to call him because you’re working overtime’ just so you don’t have to disclose the true nature of your job.” Spencer’s sarcasm was thick.

“Are you just jealous because the only date you’ve been on was a fake one with a serial killer and not even your actual girlfriend while she was alive?” My reference to Cat and Maeve caught the attention of the entire jet.

Each member mentally rolled their eyes thinking ‘Here we go again.’ And if that wasn’t their reaction, they were certainly cringing at the fight that was ensuing.

Things had been suspiciously good between the two of us today so it was about time we argued. We were due for our daily quarrel.

“Oh, that’s right! The only girls who like you are victims in our cases.” Now this comment was referring to Lila and Austin. (I had Penelope to thank for filling me in on all of Reid’s ‘entanglements’ after I was first reassigned).

“Really? You wanna go there?” He sassed back, diverting his attention away fully from his chess game now. “Do you know how many people get ‘catfished’ when using online dating websites? Or the statistics on how many people are raped, assaulted, or murdered by said ‘catfish’?”

“I’m not stupid, Reid. He and I have been talking for months. We’ve been on calls and Facetime before, too. We’ve just never met in person. Sound familiar?”

“What Maeve and I had is not at all comparable to what you and this ‘guy’ have. And just because you’ve seen his face before doesn’t mean he’s not a serial killer or operating under an alias.”

I had to scoff. Who was he to label our relationship valid or not?

“What’s it to you anyway? We all know you’d be ecstatic if this guy turned out to be a serial killer or catfish. You’d get to rub it in my face and say ‘I told you so.’”

This touched a nerve. He hated it when I attacked his nice-guy facade.

“Is it so hard to believe I’m actually concerned for your wellbeing?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Fine. If you think I don’t care about you, then don’t come crying to me when you realize he’s not the guy you think he is.”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t! It’s not like you’d be able to protect me anyway, Pretty Boy.” I sneered, using Morgan’s nickname for him as an insult got to him, and I could see it in the way his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared.

Hotch had to interject now. “Alright, (y/l/n), Reid, that’s enough. We need to focus on what’s actually important.”

I settled back down in my seat, facing forward and avoiding eye contact with Reid.

“Have fun on your date,” He muttered under his breath. “Hope you survive it.”

Bastard.

For the rest of the case, I was on edge. Deliberately avoiding him was a much harder task than one might think. I had to wait at least ten minutes for my coffee, so I wouldn’t be at the machine when he was there, and if I had to guess, he probably took longer just to make me wait in agitation. I had to awkwardly squeeze into a new spot beside Rossi and Hotch when we were delivering the profile. I had to ask not to travel in the same SUV as him.

And this exhausting routine went on for days. In fact, I’d managed to almost go the entire case without interacting with him. That was until Hotch sent us both in the field to apprehend the unsub.

“Are you sure?” I asked with clear reluctance.

“Are you questioning me?” Hotch replied sternly.

“No, sir.”

I was already on thin ice being the new recruit, so I knew better than to question any of Hotch’s orders. And as miserable as working with Reid was, I figured he’d at least ease up on the hostility when we needed to be professional. Evidently though, even in the field, he wasn’t willing to work together with me.

It was a quick decision, not careless in the least, however. The unsub had locked himself in his warehouse and refused to leave unless we were brave enough to drag him out of there ourselves. The ultimatum he gave specified that only one of us could do it and we both agreed that I should go in, seeing as he’d underestimate my strength as a woman, and I’d have the upperhand when I inevitably apprehended him.

However, he also explicitly told us that I couldn’t come in with a gun - it had to be an even playing field.

“You are not going in without a gun,” Reid ordered.

“We don’t have time to argue about this - I have a spare on me, okay? There are three hostages in there, two of which are children.” Without giving him a chance to respond, I handed him my gun and holster.

Had I let him waste a single second more of my time, we wouldn’t have been able to save the three hostages and successfully arrest the unsub. I saw this as a victory and I was almost willing to celebrate it with him, but it wasn’t long before he let our enmity tear us apart again.

When we got back to the precinct, I went to the locker room to change, then suddenly, Hotch came in.

“I’ve been informed that you went in unarmed against a fellow agent’s orders. This matter will be discussed in my office when we get back. I should warn you, (y/n), you do not want to make this mistake again.” Hotch left me with those foreboding words, and I knew, I knew immediately that Reid was to blame for this.

If I took a look in the mirror of my locker, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw that my face was turning a bright shade of red. I was fuming - bursting at the seams from the anger building within me that was desperately fighting to escape. I could imagine myself as a cartoon character with steam blowing out either of my ears. I was about to go on a rampage, and no one - absolutely no one - could stop me.

The last straw was hearing him come in. This was my opportunity to unleash what was already boiling.

“What the hell, Reid? ‘(y/n) went in unarmed.’ Seriously?!” I undid the velcro on my vest so hastily out of my blind rage that the spiky side of the velcro strip nearly sliced my finger. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“If that’s what it takes to make you realize how stupid of a choice that was, then yes, I do.” He was so calm and collected in his inflection that it angered me all the more.

“What are you even talking about? What ‘stupid choice’? You knew I had a second gun on me. And even if I didn’t carry it, I still would’ve had my vest on. I wasn’t going in unarmed or unprotected, so why would you tell Hotch that?”

“In the time it would take you to assess the danger, react, and then reach for the gun at your ankle, the unsub would’ve been able to shoot you twice - if not more. That’s going in unprepared, which is going in unarmed.”

I scoffed in disbelief that he was actually reprimanding me. “Are you kidding? This is all based on a technicality? Did your eidetic memory somehow forget about what happened with Maeve? Because my memory didn’t. I know for a fact that you went into that warehouse without a vest or a weapon. And unlike you, I had a spare and my vest. AND I actually apprehended the unsub. Did you stop Diane?”

This crossed a line and I knew it, but it was too late to take it back, and clearly, it was much too late to repair any relationship I had with him. We were far beyond the point of no return.

He was so mad that he didn’t even answer me. The only response I could gauge was from his body language, which by the looks of it, all the signs of anger were plain on his face. He clenched his jaw so hard I could hear his teeth grind. Even his nostrils flared so primitively. His eyes narrowed down at me with a glare that said, ‘I’m the predator and you’re the prey.’

“Yeah, exactly.” I spat when he stayed silent.

I turned around, starting towards the exit, but I was too furious to stop there, so I spun around and unleashed the remainder of my wrath that had been dying to come out.

“Look, I get it. I’m the new kid around here, and it sucks when someone new comes in and changes up the team dynamic, but any mistake I make, or any mistake Hotch thinks I make, could send me packing. You’ve been working in this unit for years, and even if Hotch questions your choices, he won’t reassign you. He won’t even threaten it. He’s willing to overlook your mistakes because he knows that what you have to contribute to the team is too vital to let go, but I haven’t even had my chance to show him what I have to offer. So when I do make a mistake, there is nothing for me to fall back on, nothing to redeem me, and no safety net, but you? You have years of experience on your back to break your fall. So don’t you dare act like you’re doing me a favor by reporting my ‘mistake’ to Hotch. You might be costing me my dream job, and if you think that makes us friends - think again.”

I stormed out of the locker room seeing red.

This war was far from over.

_ _ _

“You’re clenching your fists again,” Emily said under her breath. I was grateful that she said it in a hushed tone, otherwise she might’ve revealed my lingering anger to the whole jet, which wouldn’t have been good.

I immediately unclenched them, opening up my hands to reveal small, dark C shaped imprints on my palms from where my nails had dug into them.

I should’ve expected that she would’ve learned at least one of my tells by now. I did have many after all. Cheek biting, fist-clenching, leg bouncing.

“Something bothering you?” She probed quietly.

She set her book down to give her undivided attention to this conversation. That was enough to tell me that an excuse like, ‘Nothing, I’m fine,’ would not suffice. She wouldn’t be satisfied until I told her the truth, which I surely did not want to tell. So I settled for a half-truth.

“Hotch wants to talk when we get back.”

From my peripherals, I saw her knit her brows together in confusion. “Is . . . is that it?”

“Mhm.” I lied.

“But that’s not enough to warrant the fist clenching. Cheek biting - sure - you do it when you’re anxious, but not fist-clenching. You only do that when you’re angry about something.”

“Oh, so you have figured out all my tells,” I smirked.

“Pfft, I figured them all out the first week you got here, but I won’t tell you the rest, otherwise you might try and hide them from me,” She joked.

I shook my head playfully. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m just worked up about something - it’s nothing you need to worry about though.” Habitually, my eyes looked right up in his direction. I caught a glimpse of him sprawled against the couch, sleeping. He was lucky I wasn’t ranting about the little stunt he pulled earlier to Emily. He should be thankful that I was even trying to protect his reputation to her at all.

“I get it if you don’t want to talk about it, but it does help. Take it from me, someone who really only trusts myself, you shouldn’t hide what you feel.”

What you feel.

I clung onto those words.

What was I really feeling?

Was I upset that instead of receiving praise for the arrest I made, I was scolded like a child? Was I angry that Hotch believed what Reid had to say about my “problematic behavior” instead of believing in me?

Or did I feel betrayed that despite my best efforts to build a bridge, Reid was tearing it apart brick by brick? Burning it to pieces with the fire of his rage?

“Thanks.” I bleakly said to Emily. I would’ve told her the truth, but it didn’t feel necessary at that moment. If anything, it just would’ve reflected badly on me.

Truthfully, she was the closest thing I had to a friend in the BAU, and if I wanted a permanent spot here, I needed to make more of them - and fast.

“Hey, (y/n), we’re all going down to O’Keefs tonight to celebrate. You wanna join us?” Morgan asked, walking up the aisle and crouching down beside my seat to talk to me.

“Oh, I wish I could, but I have to talk with Hotch when we get back,” I explained, smiling politely.

“We can postpone the meeting till first thing Monday morning. I need to go home and be with Jack, anyway,” Hotch added.

I didn’t realize he could hear me from where he was sitting, which made me all the more nervous that he might’ve overheard the entire conversation between me and Emily earlier.

“Looks like I’m free,” I looked back at Morgan. “Does the offer still stand?”

“Anything for you, sweet cheeks.” He winked.

Judging from the lightness of the atmosphere, everyone, except maybe Hotch and Rossi, would be celebrating at O’Keefs - including Spencer.

I think I might’ve actually preferred to be scolded by Hotch tonight, instead of being silently glared at by Spencer, but it was already too late to revoke my confirmation of presence.

Because, if Hotch could hear me from where he was sitting, then Spencer could, too.

He already heard I was coming, and there was no way I was backing down.

_ _ _

In spite of the fact that I could barely hear myself think over the loud chatter and blasting music, I could still feel the rage radiating off of Spencer. You would think with how long his nap was on the jet, he wouldn’t be so cranky, but I guess he just couldn’t sleep off his disdain for me after our minor altercation.

I wondered if the team could see it, too. The way he was burning a hole into me with his fiery stare. The tension was palpable, as it has always been, but remember - I’m not the one who wanted it that way.

He started this. I was only making the feeling mutual.

“So what about you, (y/n)? Are you seeing anyone?”

I tried to hide my growing smirk behind the rim of my beer, but I knew I couldn’t hide much from them. Of course, right across from me, Spencer was glaring at me expectantly, waiting for the answer he already knew.

“Oooh, look at her - she’s blushing! Spill.” Penelope ordered, beating her palm on the table so enthusiastically it shook all the drinks on it.

“Well, there’s this one guy I’ve been seeing for a while,” The second I started speaking, I noticed Spencer rolling his eyes. I figured his apprehension was the only response of its kind that I would receive, but I was very mistaken.

“How did you two meet?” Penelope giddily asked, nearly jumping up and down in her seat.

“A dating app, actually.”

The table went completely silent, and I immediately felt my stomach drop. It was as if I’d just said something very wrong. With just a quick glance in front of me, Spencer was basking in this.

What a dick.

Emily hesitated to ask. “...Have you two met in person before?”

Now it was my turn to hesitate to speak. “No, not yet.”

I took another sip of my drink even though I wasn’t thirsty. I just wanted to hide any part of my face I could to shield myself from the five sets of eyes burning holes into me now, rather than just the one. Trying to make matters better, I spoke all too quickly, nearly sputtering on my beer. “I’m completely safe, though. Nothing sketchy’s going on, I promise.”

“Of course,” JJ agreed. “We totally trust you,” neglecting to attach the cliche, ‘It’s him we don’t trust.’ But if she had, it would’ve spoken everyone’s bubble thoughts right about now.

“Just be careful, mama.” Derek’s response felt the most sincere, and I honestly believed he was happy for me, but it didn’t change how much their judgement initially stung.

For the rest of the night, I didn’t talk. No one noticed.

Except maybe the last person I wanted to notice.

I quietly slipped away somewhere in the night when the conversation was at its highest precisely so they wouldn’t question where I was going or if I was okay. If they had asked, the truthful answer to the former would’ve been ‘just outside to get some air’ and the latter ‘no.’

The cool breeze drifted through the door like rising fog and for the briefest moment in time, I felt suspended in the space around me - I’d finally caught my breath. That feeling wouldn’t last long, though.

I’d intentionally gone outside to compose myself until I came back a person who wasn’t on the verge of tears, but apparently, trying to pull myself only resulted in my falling apart. A ball of yarn unraveling is the closest comparison I can draw to what I must’ve looked like, crying quietly on the street.

“I figured I’d find you here.”

It was the mere sound of someone’s voice that shocked me, but it was the person whose voice it was that led to the frustration that followed.

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be inside talking to the team of people who also agree with you about Grant?”

He was too much of a nuisance to warrant exchanging eye contact with so I simply stared forward as I spoke and wiped the tears away that were still pooling on my lower lash line. I hoped he hadn’t actually seen me crying, but from what I could tell, he was probably standing there long before he said something. And if he was truly looking at me as deeply as it felt like right now, then he’d have noticed my bloodshot eyes, flushed cheeks, and unending sniffling.

“Is that why you disappeared back there? Because you’re upset they didn’t exactly like the idea of your relationship?” The pain in the ass really tried, he really tried to get me to look at him by facing me and making these gestures with his hands that should’ve gotten my attention, but instead, I stayed put leaning against the wall, keeping my line of sight straight ahead.

“(Y/n), they weren’t insulting you or judging you -”

“Then why did it feel like it?” For the first time since he’d joined me, I’d looked at him. I didn’t even mean to and I had every intention of denying him that privilege for the entire duration of our conversation, but as soon as I asked him my question, we locked eyes, and I saw it written all over his face.

He felt sorry for me.

Now, he could clearly make out how distraught I was from this unobstructed view of my face that was kindled by the dim, flickering yellow glow of the streetlight beside us. And he kept staring, looking into my eyes to read me just as easily and just as quickly as he read a book.

“All we want is for you to be safe,” His voice crackled momentarily, and it actually touched some part of me for how genuine it sounded. “We weren’t trying to judge you or to insult you, and I’m sorry if it felt that way, but if we want your safety, and you tell us about something that could be potentially harmful, then of course we’re going to be apprehensive about it. That’s how people that care about you should react.”

“So are you saying that I don’t care about myself because I’m engaging in something risky?” Isn’t that the most ironic statement of this year? The definition of our job was risky, and even if this wasn’t the safest relationship on the planet, it was nothing like what we put ourselves through everyday being in the field.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying -”

“So what are you saying?” I dared. He shook his head and sighed like he was about to give up, but I needed an answer. “No, please, do continue. Finish what you were gonna say. Since you apparently know everything, 187. Please go ahead - tell me what you think I should do.”

Tell me what you really came out here to say, I ordered him with my eyes.

“I think I respect you more than you respect yourself, and that’s really saying something. Because if you actually liked yourself as much as I do, then you would realize that subjecting yourself to this nonsensicality of a long-distance relationship is not only dangerous - but insulting to your worth, too. You deserve more than that, (y/n).” He couldn’t have been clearer when he murmured a low and firm, “Much more.”

The world was spinning on its axis too fast for me to process anything he said before snapping back at him. “So what exactly is it you want me to do?”

With utmost clarity in both annunciation and intention, he told me, “Break up with him.”

Not a shadow of a doubt in his words.

Then, like the phantom of the opera himself, he vanished back into the bar, but even if he had stayed, I wouldn’t have had anything to say to him. I was simply rendered speechless.

Circling back to my previous argument, I questioned once more why was it any of his business anyway? I was allowed to do as I pleased and I most certainly did not have to listen to him. And I didn’t.

But I should’ve.

_ _ _

My Monday morning meeting with Hotch wasn’t nearly as fire and brimstone as I thought it would be. It did however feel like the equivalent to an “I’m disappointed in you” parent speech. In some ways, I related to the average teen who was grounded. Except instead of my phone being taken away, it was my freedom. From now on, I could only follow executive orders that had been given to me. At least for the time being.

It was clear that, deep down, some part of Hotch knew what I’d done was the right call, but he couldn’t give me any favors. Not until they were deserved on my end.

Walking onto the jet after our meeting, however, felt more juvenile than the punishment itself. I was a kid again, re-entering my classroom after using the restroom, only to have all eyes on me as I came through the door.

As per usual, the only empty chair was next to Reid. There’d been too many instances of this happening to think it was just a coincidence. At this point, I had to assume it was by design. Whose design however? That I didn’t know.

“Hello, trouble,” He sang when I took my seat.

I could only assume that this new nickname was based on what took place in Hotch’s office - thanks to him, need I remind you - but I didn’t care to know the origin because that would require talking to him, and for several reasons, that was the last thing I wanted to do. The first of which was what happened less than three days ago. An event we both hadn’t mentioned yet, and I hoped we never would.

I took every preventative measure in the book. I changed seats with JJ. I moved to the couch. I even started reading in the little hallway between the kitchenette and bathroom of the jet to avoid sitting beside him, but against all my best efforts, he always found a way to bug me. When there’s a will, there’s a way. After exhausting any real reason he had to talk to me, he had to get creative.

“You’ve been on that same page for four minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” I heard him say when he walked up to the kitchen to reach for the pot of coffee. Almost expecting I’d ask him what he meant, he added the explanation casually. “It never takes you more than three minutes and twelve seconds to move onto the next page. So either you’re not understanding the material or you’re not actually reading.”

It was utterly hilarious of him to imply that either of those things were definitely the answer. “What if I’m just taking my time reading this page, genius? Ever thought of that?”

His eyes turned into slits as he leaned in closer to examine me. “You’re blinking rate just increased, too.”

“Stop!” I screeched childishly, pushing him away by his shoulders in an attempt to get him off my back, but he was far from off my back. No, he was right against it. More specifically, his hand was on the small of it.

Leaning in so close that his lips were practically pressing on the shell of my ear, he whispered, “Come find me when you’re ready to tell me the truth.”

He didn’t need to know his words or actions had any sort of effect on me, so I kept the most stoic facial expression on, and I didn’t say a single thing back. He turned back around to leave with the hand on my back being the last thing to go. His lingering touch caused a shiver to run down my spine while paradoxically burning my body from the friction.

I was disgusted with myself for having let him elicit any sort of reaction from me, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“Yeah ... well, d-don’t expect that to be anytime soon,” was my poor attempt at a retort to shut him up.

“Whatever you say, trouble.”

_ _ _

Personal space can be a wonderful thing. Much less so when it’s invaded, however.

After what felt like the longest flight ever, all I wanted was to take a shower and go to bed. My wishes were granted when I was able to wash off the stress and exhaustion and slip into a blush pink satin pajama set Grant sent me that I’d been meaning to wear. The plunging neck of the tank top was lined with lace and adorned with the tiniest little bow at the center. To match the shirt, the hem of the shorts were lined with lace that trailed up the small triangular slits on the side of the shorts, where at the vertex of them was the same little bow detail. For such a pure and innocent color as baby pink, you’d think it’d be somewhat less revealing. The longer I started at myself in the mirror while wearing it, the more aware I’d become of the intentions behind why Grant had sent it.

How cute, I thought, rolling my eyes.

Gifts should always be appreciated, if for no other reason than the effort put into it, but this just felt slimy. There was obviously no valiant romantic intent behind the negligee, which spoiled the delight of receiving something out of the blue from him. What’s worse was that I wasn’t even sure how to thank him for something like this.

Me: thank you for the pajamas. they’re so cute!

Lying was easier over text message, in case you were wondering what the perks of a long distance relationship were.

Grant: good, I’m glad you like them. are you wearing them right now?

But sometimes, when you should lie, you don’t. And you regret it later on - take it from me.

Me: yeah, they’re super comfy

Grant: great! i wanna see them on! take a pic

As if to compensate for the indisputable hatred I had for this lingerie and what it stood for in our relationship, I did the only thing I could think that would make him think I really liked them. That I felt good in them.

I took pictures - not your ordinary, run-of-the-mill, Yelp review pictures, though - provocative ones.

In the same breath I went to take them, though, Spencer’s words rang through my head.

You deserve more than that. Much more.

Shaking off the thought of Spencer, I decided against what the little voice in my head that sounded too similar to his would’ve said.

To add to the illusion, I situated myself within the hotel sheets and used the front camera to capture my chest that was very much on display in this top. In the middle of rolling around the bed, trying to find the angles that wouldn’t show my face of dejection, the door opened.

Instantaneously, I clawed at the sheets until they wrapped around me like a towel. I was ashamed to admit they provided more coverage than these ‘pajamas’ did.

My shriek of shock must’ve sounded familiar to the stranger intruding on me because no sooner did I scream than they questioned, “(Y/n)? What are you doing here?”

Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“Spencer, what the hell are you doing in here?” I grumbled, struggling to maintain a tight enough grip on the sheets that would keep them from falling and unveiling a sight I desperately did not want him to see.

“I asked you first.”

Boy, if you only knew how badly I wanted to slap that smirk right off his face. “This is my hotel room obviously. Your turn.”

Returning just the same tone, inflection, and vocals, he imitated me. “This is my hotel room obviously.” Like one of those magic tricks he’d show Henry or Jack, he miraculously flashed a room key between his index and middle finger that wasn’t there before.

“No, that’s impossible.”

“I opened the door, didn’t I?” That damn smirk was still there when he asked this. Maybe, just maybe, if it hadn’t been so condescending, I would’ve thought his sarcasm was ... attractive. Disgusting, I know.

“Well, if you actually plan on staying here, then you’re sleeping on the floor or the couch, got it?”

My question went unanswered until I turned around to follow where he’d traveled in the time that I spent pondering how this happened. Now perched at the window, sitting on the arm of the chair in a way that chairs weren’t meant to be sat on, he continued to stare silently at me.

“What? What is it?” I urged.

“What’s going on with the …” He made a side to side sweeping motion with his key card. “Bed sheets?”

Consciously, I shimmied the fabric further up my body. Seeing as there was virtually no way to escape an honest answer, I confessed. “If you must know ... I’m wearing p-pajamas.” My own body was rejecting the shameful admission causing the word to stumble out of my mouth.

He didn’t need to know any more than that to gather what kind of garments they were. He already figured it out.

“Did Grant give them to you?”

I almost rolled my eyes at the implication. “What makes you say that?”

“Because I know you,” He punctuated every word perfectly. “And I know that you wear big shirts and sweatpants to bed because you don’t see the point of spending money on clothes that are only made for you to sleep in - especially if they’re clothes that make you uncomfortable like these ones clearly do.”

Although, I greatly despised the fact that there was even a little bit of a chance that I might’ve agreed with him, I still defended Grant. “It was a thoughtful gesture.”

“Thoughtful, right,” He scoffed. “And which head was he thinking with?”

I was baffled he had the gall to say such an innuendo. “Spencer!”

How dare he? So what if Grant bought me something provocative because he was physically attracted to me? At least someone was.

Despite the ferocity plain on his face, he chose not to pursue this conversation. Visibly biting back on words he knew would hurt me, Spencer managed to sound remarkably genuine when he promised me, “I won’t look if you don’t want me to.”

I want you to, was my very first thought. Oh, God, that’s so fucked up, was my second.

He underlined his sincerity by turning fully around until he was facing the window. “But we should probably put the sheets back on the bed if you plan on sleeping on it.”

He was so patient as he waited for me to remove the cloth from my body. It almost made me feel guilty. He didn’t grumble or gripe, nor did he pressure me to do it at all. So by rights, there should’ve been no reason for me to take so long to let the barrier fall - he wasn’t looking at me. But I was just so goddamn embarrassed.

This wasn’t me, and even he knew that.

“You can turn around now,” I mumbled quietly once my safety net of a bedsheet had abandoned me. My arms were crossed over my chest and my thighs were pressed so tightly against each other as if to limit the surface area that Spencer could scrutinize.

That never came.

He did look, I could tell that much. But it wasn’t a look I’d ever seen before. It wasn’t rage or annoyance or pity. It was a look of lust.

A look that made me positively weak in the knees. A look far more sensual than even my racy garments.

“I’ll just sleep in Morgan’s room tonight, okay?” He offered once he finally broke out of his incapacitation. Grabbing the two opposite corners of the sheets that I was holding, it was a team effort as we arranged the covers where they belonged. It was probably the longest period of time we’d ever worked together without fighting or talking at all for that matter..

Not a single word was exchanged between us while Spencer gathered his things to leave for Derek’s. The room started to feel dangerously empty in the stillness.

When he slipped past me to make his way out, I caught his upper arm, successfully pulling him back around.

I could’ve been sweet, I should’ve. But that wasn’t our thing. So I settled for what came naturally to us and what would set off the least amount of red flags - I didn’t play nice. “As long as you promise not to hog the entire bed with your behemoth body, we can sleep together -” Catching the words as soon as they came out and what they could’ve implied, I began backtracking. “Sleep in the same bed. Sleep as in rest. Not sleep as in … anything else.”

Then, in one of those rare moments- he laughed. He actually laughed. Like a real, hearty, sudden laugh. “I know what you meant, (y/n).”

I’ll never forget the smile that followed the world’s greatest laugh either.

Oh, God, I’m so fucked up.

_ _ _

Spencer’s POV

Domesticated animals are smarter than we give them credit for. Studies have shown that pets can actually sense time; They know when it��s time for their owner to leave for the day and when they’ll be coming home, too.

Animals aren’t dumb - and neither was I.

Like a dog sniffing out their owner’s imminent absence in the home, I could tell (y/n) was leaving the hotel room for the night. If her current state wasn’t convincing enough, then her behavior throughout the entire day supported that theory just as well.

Whether it was her phone, the clock on the wall, or her watch, she was evidently keeping a close eye on the time. She did it so often, though, that you would think she would just use simple deductions to figure out what time it was by estimating the time it was when she last checked, but nope. She rarely let more than a minute go by without monitoring the clock.

My suspicions didn’t end there. What’s more suggestive was the anxious fidgeting. She had her tells of anxiety - everyone does - but this was a level of stress I’d never seen her exhibit before, not even in the field.

She kept cracking her knuckles, even when she’d exhausting all the popping noises she could from them. Her leg-bobbing was another big tell, too. I tend to sit on tables rather than in the chairs at said table, allowing me to feel the earthquake occurring on the precinct floor. Her leg was bouncing up and down so vigorously it was practically shaking the room.

I would’ve asked her what she was so impatient about, but I feared I already knew the answer.

Grant.

And if I never heard that name roll off her tongue again, it would be too soon.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t ask where she was going, though.

Pretending to read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, I barely let my eyes venture far off the page when I loudly asked from the window seat, “So where are you going tonight, trouble?”

The faintest sound of a chuckle erupted in the bathroom, most likely from the nickname I hadn’t let die yet.

“Nunya,” was her ever-so mature answer.

I didn’t want to give her the chance to say ‘nunya business’ like I knew she would, so I quickly interjected with a monotone, “How clever of you.” If she wanted to be a child about this, then so be it.

“Let’s see. You brought your good heels out of your suitcase, which you only wear on special occasions. And you put on a different perfume than the one you usually use, so I’m assuming it’s new. ... If I didn’t know any better, trouble, I’d say you’re going on a date.”

She peeked her head out of the bathroom doorway to say, “You’re creepy, you know that?”

Seeing the small portion of her face that was embellished with a smile would’ve been enough if only I knew what dress she was hiding in behind that wall. I had yet to see that part of her ensemble, but if I had to guess, it would break my heart.

“Just saying,” I casually lied while clearing my throat.

“Well,” I heard her begin from within the bathroom. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Grant is meeting me tonight.”

Kill me now.

“I thought Grant lived in D.C.” Not that that would change much if he was already here.

“Yes, he does, but he’s driving all the way here to meet me. Seeee,” She drew out the word. “Would a serial killer do that?”

I refrained from giving the obvious answer: Yes.

“Well, I hope you don’t plan on bringing him back here. Otherwise, that’d be terribly awkward, don’t you think?” My allusion to the possibility that Grant would come back here to find me in her bed was borne from the intentions that were a complete contradiction to the words I’d just spoken. It, in fact, wouldn’t be terribly awkward. No, it would be fun. For me at least.

I would have loved to have seen the look on his face, and the worry on hers as she tried to explain who I was and why I had any right to be in (y/n)’s gravity.

The room went silent again while I stayed on the same page of my book and, unbeknownst to her, waited for her to enter the room. How long she was taking was starting to worry me, though.

“Need any help in there?” I called out.

“Nope,” She said through a strained voice that proved she was indeed struggling with something.

“Really?” I asked once more to give her another opportunity to lower her colossal pride. “Cause it sounds like you need help.”

“Nope. I’m good.” Liar.

I knew her too well. I counted down to the exact second when she finally scrambled to ask, “Can you help me zip up my dress?”

“Yyyup.” I’d already resigned to the fact that I would have to help her, bouncing happily off the bed when she finally admitted it and letting myself lose the page I was on as I tossed the book haphazardly behind me.

I was forced to join her in the bathroom for it was already hard for her to humble herself enough to ask me for help, so she certainly couldn’t be expected to lower her pride again and walk out to a place more convenient for me.

The first thing I noticed was that it was a space clearly not made for two. It was so cramped that I ended up right against her in order to fit. The second thing I noticed was how she made no movements to distance herself. She was so close to me that I could actually see the little hairs on the back of her neck standing up from where my breath ghosted on the area. The sterile smell of hotel bathrooms had been replaced by the flowery, aromatic scent of her new perfume, and my heart broke all over again.

Using the back of my fingers, I cast a barely-there caress on her neck to stroke her hair out of the way to clear the path of the zipper. The little hairs on the back of her neck stood up again.

She liked that.

“So do I get to know where you’re going?” I reached for the zipper on the small of her back. “For safety purposes, of course.”

“Aww, you looking out for me, Dr. Reid?” She teased in a seductive tone while gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail that for the shortest second recorded in time might’ve reminded me of a constantly recurring intrusive image.

“Always, trouble.”

The zipper fastened with absolutely no resistance all the way to the top. My eyes flashed to the mirror to catch her expression, which told me everything I needed to know.

What a pretty little liar. She didn’t actually need my help.

Comprehending that the realization dawned on me, she gave me what she knew would shut me up. “We’re going to The Rooftop at Lamont’s.”

How effortlessly she slipped past me without a thank you or a glance in my direction served as a rude awakening.

“Well, you should take an umbrella with you. It looks like there’s gonna be a storm tonight.” This was my small way of coming to terms with the reality of the situation.

“Eh,” She waved my suggestion off with a dismissive hand. “We’ll be fine. Oh, and don’t even think about stalking me!” She warned before exiting the room.

In the blink of an eye, she was gone - my peace of mind having left with her.

_ _ _

The amount of sleep you need varies for each person and is affected by several factors. However, for most adults, 7–9 hours per night is the ideal amount. And I was slowly reducing that optimal quantity, hour by hour, until there was none left.

I would continue to sacrifice my sleep so long as I was awake for her return. If she’d asked why I was still up, I would lie. Though I wouldn’t look half so pretty as she did when she lied.

Losing rest seemed like such a small price to pay to make sure I was fully alert in the event that an emergency happened, even if I would suffer the consequences in the morning. But hey - that’s what caffeine is for, isn’t it? To re-energize oneself after staying up to guarantee one’s enemy’s safety.

Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly why Kaldi invented coffee in 750 A.D.

Besides the thunderstorm, my mind also made great company for situations like these. Granted, the visions it would project kept me up for a reason - they were all so awful.

There was simply no projected reality where things would turn out alright.

If she had the time of her life on her date, she would come back to throw it in my face that I’d been wrong, and her admiration for Grant would have deepened.

Or if he stood her up, she’d be devastated, but instead of letting me console her, she’d push me away as easily as she always did.

In a more neutral instance, perhaps she would admit it wasn’t as great meeting him as she thought it would be and the relationship would fade out for innocent reasons. Even if that seemed like the most favorable circumstance, she would eventually grow to resent me for planting the seed of doubt in her head in the first place.

But nothing- nothing I could have imagined would be as treacherous as what actually happened.

At exactly 1:09 a.m, my phone started to ring. I can’t explain to you what it was, but I just knew - it was her calling, and it wasn’t even her number.

“(Y/n)? Is everything okay?”

If she said something beforehand, I couldn’t hear her because the storm was too loud and her voice was too quiet. “Did I wake you up?”

I reassured her with a tone I didn’t even recognize. “No, no. I was awake. Why? What’s up?” The line went quiet again, forcing me to prompt her to speak in order to find out if she was still there on the call. “(Y/n)?”

“Spencer ...” She choked out a hoarse sob. “I need you. I need you to come get me, please.”

My eyes clenched shut at the dreadful sound of her sorrow, and I jolted into action. After scrambling to gather the keys to her car that she’d left behind, I fled the room faster than ever before.

“I’m on my way, (y/n). Stay right there. You’re at The Rooftop at Lamont’s right?”

The poor thing took the longest pause in history, either from shame or disorientation. “He threw me in the back of his car and drove me all the way to D.C. I …” Her breath caught on her dry throat again. “I, um, I managed to escape and now I’ve barricaded myself in a payphone booth. I haven’t called the police yet. You were the first person I thought to call. I just, I just needed to hear your voice.”

My knuckles turned an unfamiliar shade of white when I gripped the steering wheel, picturing her caged up in a rectangular box, dialing my number instead of 911 just so she could hear my voice.

“Everything is gonna be okay. I promise you. My ETA is 1:28. That’s in 19 minutes. Are you okay being there for that long or do you want to find somewhere safer?”

I could no longer distinguish the difference between talking to her right now and talking to a victim in distress. I was speaking with the same tone and inflection but feeling a sharp pain in my chest that wasn’t there before.

“I can stay here. Just ... don’t hang up, okay?” The fact that the possibility of me abandoning her over the phone even crossed her mind was more than enough to get me to drive well over the speed limit.

The list of traffic infractions only grew from there because honestly? Screw my safety or anyone else’s. Her’s was the only one that mattered. She was the priority.

She was my priority.

Throughout the entire call, I kept repeating, “You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Frankly, it was something we both needed to hear.

It was both the fastest and slowest 19 minutes of my life. Time no longer felt real when I finally found the payphone booth that boxed in my troublesome girl. No sooner did I drive up to the sidewalk than I ran out of the car to sprint the short distance to free her from her coop.

“(Y/n)!” I shouted, swinging the door open and throwing caution to the wind in the process. Immediately, she dropped the phone, not even bothering to replace it onto its receiver.

The pouring rain had stripped her of her dignity. Mascara ran down her face in pigmented streams of black. Her curled hair was dampened into strings. But worse of all, it hadn’t washed away the darkening bruises on her skin.

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She cried as she ran into my open arms.

Her body collided with mine in such a gentle manner that I had to wonder how that was possible at all or if it was a figment of my imagination. Was our collision actually that gentle or did it seem that way because of how good it felt to have her arms and legs latch around my entire torso, crossing and connecting somewhere in between?

With one arm under her thighs to hold her up, I pulled her impossibly closer to me by cradling the back of her head with the other hand.

Her small hands found their way into my hair, a new sensation I tried not to indulge in so as not to let my attention stray away from the little life I was holding in my arms.

She was so cold.

Shivering from my warm embrace, her teeth chattered as she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Spencer. You were right I should’ve listened -”

“Shh, it’s okay, (y/n),” I said with the hopes that I could make the pounding heart that was thumping against my shoulder settle down until it reached her standard heart rate of 67 beats per minute.

After a second of just holding her wordlessly, she spoke again.

“I don’t wanna fight.” She surrendered so easily to me that I could hardly believe this was her at all.

“I don’t wanna fight with you either.”

That was entirely true. Fighting with her was the last thing on my mind. The first was getting her into my car.

It was easier that I imagined it would be, but then again, it’s easy to do things when you’re motivated in this way.

Before I loosened my hold on her to shut the passenger door, she squeezed me a little tighter, as if to be absolutely certain this was real and not some cruel dream.

“Thank you,” She hummed into the crook of my neck. From where her shoulder was digging into my throat, I couldn’t exactly respond verbally, so I settled for rubbing my hand up and down her back comfortingly.

“Let’s take you home,” I basically said to myself seeing as it was too quiet to be discernible.

“No,” She shook her head rapidly. “Take me to your apartment.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back to the hotel right now. I need to be somewhere I feel safe.”

My apartment is closer than the hotel, I reasoned, pretending it was the logic of it that made my heart swell and not the statement I would fixate on for the entire duration of the ride there.

I need to be somewhere I feel safe.

And that’s wherever I’m with you.

_ _ _

Reader’s POV

Porcelain wall tiles gleamed back at me, mocking my wretched misery. They were much prettier than me, but then again, anything else would be prettier than me right about now.

I certainly wasn’t the belle of the ball in my bare naked state. The fact that I was sitting in a pool of my own washed off dried blood didn’t help either.

I would’ve looked away from the bright white walls, but where else were I to look? Into the pair of eyes that I was deliberately avoiding? The ones that were staring a hole through me right now? No. I couldn’t bear to meet those eyes. So I kept looking forward at the mean walls - those mean, mocking walls.

“Is the water warm enough?” He asked, dipping a finger into the bathwater to test it himself.

I watched as his hand snuck into the tub and swirled around some water, causing soap bubbles to revitalize.

For a reason I didn’t know nor could remember at this given moment, Spencer drove me to his apartment. That memory of why I was here was fuzzy, but the rest following my arrival was more vivid. Perhaps because it was all unfolding right now.

“I think I should go,” I murmured. The bathwater had gone cold, and the silence was too deafening. If I didn’t leave now, then I would be trapped forever.

I leaned forward with my knees still pressed to my chest to protect my modesty while I tugged on the silver drain plug of the tub to release the suction.

“You can’t go home. You’ll be alone again, and who will be there to help you that time?”

“I don’t need anybody’s help.” I responded curtly.

“Then why did you call me tonight?”

“Why did you answer?”

He was stunned by how I didn’t miss a beat with my question, stunned enough to purse his lips in contempt. “Should I have declined your call then? Said ‘no’ instead and let you fend for yourself? You know what - my bad, (y/n). I sincerely apologize that I care about you.”

I scoffed at his factiousness. “No, what you should’ve done is whatever the hell you wanted to do. But clearly, since you said ‘yes’ and came to my rescue like I’m some victim in a case - you wanted to be there. I could chalk that up to you having a hero complex, but I think it’s time for you to admit you just wanted to see me at my worst so you could throw it in my face like you’re doing right now.”

He clenched his jaw in fury, muttering under his breath, “I should’ve left you in that booth.”

This crossed a line, but I was just as ready to cross it, too.

“But I bet you liked saving me. Seeing me as a damsel in distress that you could white knight. You like that, Spence? Does my weakness settle your deep rooted fear of inadequacy in strength?”

Shouldn’t have done that.

For a second there, I was sincerely scared of the response I might’ve just elicited, so I shot up from the tub and grabbed the towel on the rack, quickly wrapping myself in it and avoiding Spencer’s gaze the entire way out of the bathroom.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Judging from the loudness of his voice, he was right on my heels, following me close behind.

“You’re smart. Figure it out.”

“God, why do you have to be such a pain in the ass? I don’t want to leave you like this.” It never failed to amaze me how he could both show disdain and concern for me in the matter of a sentence.

“Well, you’re not leaving me like this - I’m leaving you like this.” My clever remark angered him more.

Seemingly from out of nowhere, Spencer called out from the end of his hallway, “What are you so scared of?”

Reaching the end of my rapidly fraying rope, I spun around to throw my arms out to my side in just the same defensive manner as he did. “Nothing! Maybe I just don’t wanna be stuck in the apartment of the man who hates me! Can you blame me?”

He ran a hasty hand through his hair, pulling at the strands out of pure irritation. “Why do you keep saying I hate you? How can any of what I’ve done for you tonight suggest that?”

He’d chosen his words carefully and for that, he was smart. His inclusivity of the word ‘tonight’ meant I could only reference his actions from the past few hours, which wouldn’t help my case, as opposed to the months and months that he’d given me the cold shoulder, which would have helped my case. But again, he was smart - he had me in a deadlock. I couldn’t accept defeat, but what could I possibly argue against his point?

My body literally shook from the power of the deep groan that tore through my chest. “God, what do you want from me, Spencer?” I wanted nothing more than to be far, far away from him, but my body was resisting all those urges. Lunging forward, I pointed the sternest index finger at him, staring the most unforgiving glare into his soul. “Tell me - tell me what you want! Because when I was nice to you, you-you treated me like shit. And then when I stopped being nice to you, you still treated me like shit. So what -” I had to laugh to alleviate the sheer rage I was feeling. “What the fuck do you want from me? Because it’s like no matter what I do, it’s just not good enough for you!”

His eyebrows had furrowed and his eyes softened. He didn’t look angry whatsoever. No, he looked hurt.

“Not good enough for me?” He leaned down to my level to look right into my eyes. “You are everything … everything to me.”

With one last breath, I cried out in anguish, “Then why? Why do you hate me so much?”

He gulped back the lump in his throat - the last barrier that kept him from telling the truth.

“I ... I never hated you. I just need to be in control of my thoughts and feelings at all times, otherwise, I feel-I feel like I’m going crazy. Like I’m on the verge of a psychotic break that I’m genetically predisposed to have. But when you came around - I lost all my control. You were inhabiting my dreams, you were stealing my sleep, occupying more and more space in my brain until there was no more room left to take. God, I think about you all the time, and I literally cannot physically stop it. I have no control anymore,” and somehow him saying that sounded something like an ‘I love you.’

“The only thing I could control was how I treated you. I thought being awful to you would get you to despise me enough to make me despise you, too, and while it was easier to be angry at you, it was so much worse having you hate me.”

“I never hated you, Spencer.” Never.

“You should have,” He rasped. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I wish to spend every day proving that I want you. Oh, I want you so bad,” He sharply inhaled through gritted teeth, and I unconsciously laughed in return. His pain wasn’t funny in the least. What was amusing was knowing that he had the same excruciating longing for me that I had for him.

“I don’t want control anymore if it means I can’t have you.”

He leaned in so carefully that I almost didn't register the movement at all. Our hearts were pounding to the same synchronized beat. We were the shore and the tide one in the same. Our breaths would draw in and out, in and out, as he held my face so gently. We were still the shore and the tide, but more than anything we were drowning in the ocean of ourselves. The rising waters of his admiration threatened to flood every empty nook and cranny of the room until it swallowed me whole. All I could feel was him, everywhere, filling absolutely everything.

“Wow ... I finally got you speechless,” The cocky bastard hummed happily, letting his words vibrate on the smallest part of my lip.

“Oh, shut up,” I declared through a smirk I needed to fight off before finally closing that nearly imperceptible gap between us.

All the forces in the world couldn’t tear us apart after we connected. They were no match for the force Spencer’s hands had as they pulled me impossibly closer. The pressure might’ve even been unbearable had it not been for the velvety pair of lips giving me back all the oxygen it stole from my lungs just seconds ago. They were so soft, like freshly washed sheets, like biting into cotton candy, like floating for the first time, feeling utterly weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.

Not nearly as sweet as the words that followed our parting.

“Not enough for me?” He repeated, recalling my previous claim. “You’ve had me since the day you walked in, trouble.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

fingers crossed this fic doesn’t flop!

complete taglist: @muffin-cup @s1utformgg @no-alarms-no-surprises-silence @jemimah-b99 @justanothetfangirl @kylab @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny @ashwarren32 @carooliina @fortheloveofcriminalminds @watermelongubler @obsessedmaggiemay @k-k0129 @aperrywilliams @eevee0722 @spencersmagic @spencerreid-mgg @half-blood-dork @goldeng1rl8 @just-a-bunch-of-fandoms @random-human-person @masumiyetimziyanoldu @dreamer-writer-fangirl @kalamitykait @jinxy175 @apolloroid

tag not working: @gloriousmuffinempathstudent

#spencer reid #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid kiss #fighting fire with fire #juniorgman187 #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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violetsoju · 4 years ago

Text

airport

kuroo tetsurou · fluff · 2.2k

warning: slight suggestive theme, mild language, characters are aged-up

a/n: did i write this on impulse because i still can’t believe i was actually in this situation? maybe. did i write this as a manifestation of having a kuroo to bitch about and assure me? maybe too. did i get more encouraged to write this after reading a discussion in a server on bra sizes and brand recommendations a few days ago? maybe three.

“Kuroo, I’m serious. Stop laughing.”

A distinct cackling laughter from the speaker of your phone fills the four walls of your bathroom, along with a lazy lopsided grin flashing on the screen that’s perched on the wall mounted shelf next to the sink.

“But you’re making it so hard not to! Plus, you’re supposed to brush your teeth for two minutes, not talk and brush your teeth at the same time for two minutes.” Kuroo reasons, laughter turning into soft chuckles.

“Sorry babe, but I didn’t catch anything you said just now because you sounded like a fish blubbing underwater, except you’re blubbing white foam instead of bubbles.”

He finds it hard not to grin like a fool at your figure from his side of the screen, hands on your hips with a toothbrush stuffed in your puffed-up cheeks, hair pushed back with an elmo headband that he finds ugly yet cute because of the two ridiculously huge eyes dangling on top.

You mumble something yet inaudible while wiping away the drool of toothpaste dripping down the side of your mouth, a small pout dotting your lips.

“Rinse up and tell me from the top again once you’re done, alright?” Kuroo sighs, shaking his head adoringly as he manages to make out a ‘fine’ out of the string of muffled sounds from you.

And do you listen to him completely? Of course not. So he rests his left cheek on his palms, humming to the bits of information you try to squeeze in without accidentally swallowing tap water while cleansing your face.

The white tiles in the background shift to cream walls shakily, along with the shuffling sounds of room slippers against the wooden flooring. “Then as we were walking towards the karaoke place, I somehow fell behind the rest and ended up beside him. And guess what happened?”

“He confessed to you?” He jokes, oblivious to where this is heading, yet.

“God, I’d rather that happen.” You take a seat in front of your study desk filled with skincare products tucked on the side, placing your phone against the wall. “Instead, he called out to me, which I turn to him and find him looking at my boobs, saying ‘oh, its nothing’,”

Kuroo visibly flinches a little, eyebrows furrowed in disgust, eyes widening slightly, like he just tasted a sip of milk that has gone bad. “Excuse me?”

“He was looking at my boobs, Kuroo. My boobs. Shamelessly. Saying ‘oh, its nothing’. What the heck?” You mentally thank yourself for not opening the cover of the toner in your hand, to save the mess you would have made from all the expressive hand gestures.

“And you were wearing your usual tank top, right?” He smacks his lips together, as if trying to get rid of the bad aftertaste.

“Yeah, the usual square neck rib knit tank top that I always wear.” He tilts his head to the side, eyebrows knitted in confusion. Your wardrobe of tops flashing through his head. “The one that you don’t understand why I own a several pieces in different colours. That one.” A long ‘oh’ resonates through the speakers, the particular top emerging from the sea of clothing.

Kuroo processes the image for a few seconds. “That’s not revealing at all.”

“Exactly! It’s like the most basic thing? There’s tons of girls out there who wear the similar thing as me too.” You tap your toner onto your face with your hands. “And I was even wearing a jacket on top of it? It’s not like I was fully exposed or something. But even if I didn’t have my jacket on, I don’t see how it’s taken as a sign to stare brazenly like that. I wear whatever the heck I want to make myself feel and look good, not for someone else to ogle at, unable to keep their raging hormones in check.”

He hums in agreement. “What did you do or say to him then?”

“Honestly, I don’t know what made me so pissed at that moment either.” You sigh, reaching out for your wash-off mugwort mask. “I snapped at him, telling him that when he talks to girls, he should be looking at them in the eye, not at their boobs.”

“That’s my girl.” Kuroo flashes his signature cheshire-grin. “What did he say then?”

Your lips purse together, recalling the situation. “I don’t think he even heard me. Partly because you know how I rush through words like I’m rapping when I’m mad.”

“Told you to apply for that rap competition show on tv.”

“Kuroo.” Your glare earns an apology and light-hearted chuckles. “Another reason why I don’t think he heard me was because he actually had the balls to sit next to me during the karaoke session.” His eyebrows arch at the statement. “To which I dragged Mizuki to sit next to me and he got pushed to the side with the other guys.”

He huffs through his nose with a tinge of frustration, fingers running through his dishevelled hair. “How old is he again?”

“20, I think. But still, that’s no excuse for being so disrespectful towards girls and women. He’s already a full-grown adult for crying out loud.” You set the timer to 15 minutes on your phone, shuffling to your bed. “Out of all the boys I’ve met that are of his age or back when we were his age, I’ve never met such a disrespectful guy. In this area of discussion, I mean.”

“You mean you haven’t met such a horny monkey before.” Kuroo summarises. You snort at his remark, making yourself comfortable under the covers while waiting for the mask to work its magic.

“So you’re mad that he looked at your boobs.”

You place your phone between your folded knees, slouching against the bed frame. “Of course I am. It’s a violation against my body. How the fuck does he think he’s entitled to look at someone blatantly like that? Imagine someone staring at your dick like its nothing.”

The stupid cocky smirk appears on screen again. “Not gonna lie, but I would be proud. Or amused.”

“Freak.” You scoff, scrunching your nose at his reply.

His amber eyes gleam under the dim lights through the screen. “You sure you’re not mad at anything else?” He prods, not letting you off the hook.

“I guess I’m so mad because I never expected this to happen to me. I mean, look at me. What’s there to look at when I’m basically as flat as an airport?” You gesture to your breasts, ignoring his ‘you’re exaggerating’ interjection. “I would understand if he was staring at someone voluptuous or well-blossomed. But what’s the point of staring at a wall so flat there’s no cracks or dents in between?”

Kuroo’s sharp yet soft features settle into a knowing look. “So there is something else that you’re mad at.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That is?”

“You’re upset that your boobs are small.”

Your eyes take a 360-degree turn, huffing exasperatedly. “I’m not. I’m happy with the way they are.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

His firm discerning expression in the 10-second-long stare off has you heaving a long sigh in defeat. “I mean, there are times which I wish they would be just a little bigger…” You hesitantly admit, biting the inside of your lips. “So I don’t have to rely on push-up bras that much. And they would look nicer in wireless bras… Or in deep v neck cuts… Or plunge dresses…”

“Babe, they’re perfect with the way they are now.” Kuroo’s words doesn’t come out as pity or consolation; it’s filled with raw honesty and sincerity.

You glance down at the soft flesh beneath your oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Kuroo. “I know, but sometimes you can’t help but want more, right?”

“I understand, it’s natural.” He nods in acknowledgment. “But we have to be grateful with what we have, don’t we?”

A soft smile tugs the corner of his lips at the sight of your pout. “You’re right. Why did I get myself so worked up just because of one horny monkey when I have such an amazing and supportive boyfriend?” His lips curl up with a little more pride at you remembering and reusing his little remark.

“At your service, always. And ever ready to chase off any horny monkeys in sight.” He places his hands to his eyebrows as a salute dramatically, earning a hearty laugh from you.

“Question time. On the bright side, don’t you save more on bras because they require lesser fabric than bigger sizes? Less fabric, less production cost?”

“If only it were like that, Kuroo. You know what, we’re going bra shopping for our next date.”

“May I be granted the honour of choosing the fine piece of garment?” He places his hand over his right chest.

You hold onto your imaginary ruffled dress in the air, dropping into a mid-curtsy. “If I have the honourable chance to be blessed by your gracious kindness to pay for it, be my guest.”

“Of course, m’lady.” He bows curtly, giving you a flirtatious wink.

You giggle at his sappiness. “Okay my turn. Aren’t you jealous that you don’t have the chance to hold them like other boyfriends do for their busty girlfriends when their boobs swell and get sore during their periods?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but the glint in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s not like that’s the only time I get to touch them.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you suggestively.

“Pervert.” You gasp, covering your breasts with your arms.

The timer on your phone beeps, signaling it’s time for you to wash off your mask.

“Didn’t take you to be a boob person. Thought you were more of a butt person.” You place your phone back on the wall mounted shelf in the bathroom, turning on the tap water to run.

“I’m neither. Because I’m a you person, your person. A person that loves you as a whole, not by parts.” You swear you can see him giving you that smug grin of his with your face submerged with water, washing off the remaining residue.

“You know, maybe God deliberately blessed you with a lesser amount in this aspect.” His voice echoes through the speakers.

You reach out to your face towel hanging next to the sink and place gentle pats on your face. “And why is that?”

“Because God knew that you’d be unstoppable if you were blessed in all aspects. I mean, look at you. You’re already slaying it despite your fun-sized boobs.”

You nearly choke on your own saliva from the fits of laughter at his comment. “What the hell, Kuroo. No one calls a C cup and below fun-sized.”

“If people call those below the height of 160cm fun-sized, I don’t see why I can’t do the same with breast sizes.” He reasons with a nonchalant face.

“Fine, fun-sized boobs they are.” You give in, switching off the bathroom lights. “Your drop-dead gorgeous kick-ass girlfriend has fun-sized boobs.”

“And I love it. That’s what makes her special too.” He adds, face full-on smitten with love.

“Shut up, cheesy conman.” You chuckle softly, your face a mirror image of his.

“Well, you chose one yourself. No refunds.” The coolness of your moisturizer helps soothe the warmth blossoming across your cheeks, but not the warmth spreading throughout your chest like a cosy fireplace on a cold winter day.

【☾】

Zero and one digits flash on the top right of the screen, signalling it’s way past your bedtime. You’ve been on the phone with Kuroo for close to two hours, no wonder you feel yourself drifting to sleep each second. Kuroo senses it too, from the way your eyes twitch and lose focus.

“Alright, last question before we wrap up for today. When are you hanging out with them again?” He asks, stifling a yawn.

You let out a yawn as well, stretching your arm over your head, popping a few bones. “I don’t know, but I may skip if he’s tagging along.”

“Nope, we’re going together. Me and you.” Kuroo states matter-of-factly with droopy eyes.

You rub your eyes that has been lidded with sleep. “What if you’re busy on that day like today?”

“Then I’ll just clear my schedule for the day. Gotta show the lil boy who owns this airport.” His deep voice croaking through the speakers of your phone.

“Airport?” You question, confused at his statement, wondering if sleep has started to take over your sense of hearing.

“Airport.” He gestures at his tiddies sleepily.

“Kuroo…” Your distressed groan doesn’t stop him from his babble.

“Gotta show to him that it’s a private one too, not some public area that’s available to any common folk like him. Right, babe?”

a/n: in Chinese, there’s a saying of calling flat chested girls or girls with small boobs as 飞机场, which means airport because the airport runway is flat. so it’s like one’s chest is so flat that it can run the plane lmao. all sizes are precious, don’t get me wrong. this is purely for entertainment purposes

shoutout to @moonboohoo for being my irl Mizuki that day ily ❤️

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsurou x y/n #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsurou fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #hq imagines #dont worry guys im not bothered by the incident anymore #i just thought it would be funny to write about #small tiddy gang unite #and i finally have a piece thats not over 3k words omg #mini achievement unlocked 🔓

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kuroopaisen · 4 years ago

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cause & effect || 8

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.

warnings: f!reader, discussion of divorce

wc: 2.2k

m.list | ch. 7 ↞ ch. 8 ↠ ch. 9

“Tetsurou!” His mother calls as he’s a few steps away from the safety of the car.

“Hm?” He only half turns around, not willing to commit to the concept of walking back towards his mother’s house.

“Don’t forget to call.”

“Don’t worry,” you call out, “I’ll remind him.”

She smiles at you, raising a hand. “Thank you, dear.”

You’re rushed into the car before you know it, buckled in next to an exceedingly stressed Kuroo.

The two of you are already leaving later than he would’ve liked, and you can tell he’s desperate to get back to Tokyo.

So are you, honestly. It feels like you didn’t get enough sleep last night, even though you certifiably did.

His mother’s words keep playing over in your head. ‘No chemistry.’ ‘She’s no Ritsuko.’ What did that even mean?

Sure, you might not be his real girlfriend, but you’re kind of pissed that you’re expected to live up to a set of standards you don’t even know about. Maybe you’re a bit too ticked off by the chemistry comment, but ‘no chemistry’ meant you weren’t playing your role well.

And if you were going to do anything during this whole stupid pantomime, it would be playing your part exceptionally.

“You know,” Kuroo begins, clearing his throat and stirring you from your thoughts, “I don’t think I said thank you properly last night.”

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

“No, I…” There’s a creak in Kuroo’s voice, an uncertainty. Once, you might have found it unusual. After last night, not anymore. “I really appreciate you listening to me.”

You turn your head towards him, your smile softening.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel. He’s not looking at you (rightfully so – his attention should be focused on the road), but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

“I know it sounds dumb,” he says quietly, voice barely louder than the humming of the car, “since they split ages ago, but… I’ve had a hard time believing that… that if I fell in love with someone, it’d last.”

It hurts. Deep and true and harsh.

You know that pain. You’ve felt it.

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all,” you murmur, voice soft as cotton.

“Thanks,” Kuroo chuckles.

Silence falls once more. You let it. If Kuroo needs time, you’re willing to give out. Trying to force things out of someone never did them any good. You wait patiently, watching the road.

“I just…” He sighs after a while, sitting up a little straight. “I don’t know how to let someone in. Not in the way they want, anyway. I just…”

He chews on his lip, brow furrowed as he searches for his next words.

“Because your parents split up?” You offer.

“Mhm,” he nods slowly. “I don’t begrudge them for it or anything… and I know it’s better than forcing themselves to stay in the relationship.”

Ah, the bargaining. You know it well.

You tell yourself that what happened is better than nothing changing at all. But in the process, you forget you’re allowed to grieve. Allowed to be hurt. You push it away, cover it with a tatty veil, tell yourself that it’s wrong to feel anything mildly negative about it.

But that’s how it builds. That’s how it spreads like moss over a stone wall, slow and deliberate and hard to notice at first. But then it’s in all of you – in how you see yourself, in how you see others, in how you love.

“But it’s affected you more than you realised, right?” You ask gently.

Kuroo nods again. He glances at you out the corner of his eye, vaguely suspicious.

“Yeah,” he swallows. “I’ve only begun unpacking it recently.”

“It can take a long time to work through something like that,” you murmur, fiddling with your fingers as you gaze down at your lap.

You’re not sure if you’ve even worked through it all. There are still days when the thought of ‘family’ makes you want to throw up, where the bitterness swallows you whole. Bitterness for them, bitterness towards a society that places filial piety as a key virtue. How are you supposed to fulfil your ‘duty’ as a daughter when you still haven’t forgiven them for leaving you among the wreckage?

Maybe it’s time.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze out the window. “My parents are divorced, too.”

It’s a half-whispered confession. One you’re not sure if you should make.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to say that. It’s a simple fact – one that’s been written in stone since you were fourteen. And it’s not like Kuroo would judge you for it.

But it’s still difficult. It still feels like a stain that won’t come out.

“Wait, really?” Kuroo’s eyes go wide, glancing between you and the road. “I’m so sorry—”

“What’re you apologising for?” You giggle.

Kuroo opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. “Well I—I’ve been sitting here complaining about it, and—”

You wave a hand at him.

“It’s fine,” you smile. “I’m not close with either parent, so…”

The mood shifts. Have you made a mistake?

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says. There’s a painful sincerity in his voice – evidence that he doesn’t know what that’s like.

You’re happy for him. Through it all, at least, he had his dad’s side of the family. It’s something to be grateful for; and while the abandoned child in you feels bitterly jealous at the thought of someone else getting support, you know better than to admonish a parent doing their best to keep their son above water.

“It’s fine,” you say, pressing your lips together and shaking your head. “They’re both overseas for the holidays, actually.”

That’s the real reason you’re able to actually do this whole thing. There’re no parents to visit, no family to make merry with. There are friends you’d like to see, but most of their time was taken up by their own family festivities.

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Dad’s gone to Europe with his new partner, and mum’s visiting her new husband’s family in Australia.”

You know that they didn’t need to ask you if you wanted to spend the holidays together. And you don’t expect it. Sometimes weeks go by with no contact, and it’s your fault as much as theirs.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Being along during the holidays is always a reminder that things aren’t as they should be – you don’t have that nice little nuclear family you’re told to want, with parents who love (or at least, tolerate) each other so they can love you.

“I see…” Kuroo murmurs.

“So, you needing someone to stick their neck out for you ended up being pretty convenient,” you grin, trying to lighten the frankly dour atmosphere in the car.

“Where will you be during New Years?” He asks softly. There’s a certain melancholy to his face.

“Alone, at this rate.” You have friends to see, of course, but you know they can’t dedicate all their free time to you – and you’d never ask for that.

But you can’t reason your way out of loneliness, no matter how hard you try. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough. All you can do is remind yourself that it wouldn’t be forever; the holidays would pass, things would return back to normal, and you won’t be lonely again for another year.

“You can stay with us, if you’d like.”

Kuroo’s voice is so soft. So kind.

It’s enough to make your chest feel all light and funny. Why, you don’t know.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

You’re not sure if you’ll take him up on the offer; you wouldn’t want to impose, and it wasn’t part of your agreement. Not that you’re really sure what’s covered by your agreement. You’re just coasting along, hoping for the best. Hoping you’re helpful.

Silence. A silence that weighs on your shoulders.

Did Kuroo feel… awkward, now he knew you came from a similar situation? Did he feel that he had no right to talk about it the way he was?

That wasn’t what you’d been trying to do at all. You didn’t want to rob him of his voice.

You take a deep breath, clutching your jacket with your hands. “I’m just saying that… I know where you’re coming from,” you swallow. “Kind of.”

Kuroo glances at you out the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay to take your time to work through these sorts of things,” you smile. “God knows I still am.”

He chuckles lightly. A good sign.

“It’s not easy,” you continue, “and I spent a lot of my teen years believing it didn’t affect me, that it hadn’t had that big of an impact, but…” One deep breath. “I used to besmirch the idea of family.”

It feels strange, admitting it out loud. You’d never done that before; not to someone outside of a therapeutic context. Not even your closest friends knew this was how you really felt.

“I didn’t believe in it,” you swallow, “And now I know that’s because of how my parents treated each other.”

Fights. Pointless bickering. Nothing ever got physical, but bitterness has a way of twisting people up on the inside, leaving them all tattered and miserable. A place where there’s no love at all, only two people running through the tired motions of affection, is no place to raise a child – let alone teach them how to love.

And something else.

“And… and because of how they treated me through the divorce,” you sigh.

It sounds worse when you phrase it like that.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kuroo speaks slowly, each word careful and cautious, “what happened?”

You chew on your lip. “Well, there’s the two of them trying to pit me against the other.”

Kuroo groans.

“And I… I don’t know, I felt very neglected,” you swallow, doing your best to ignore the pressure in your chest, the lump in your throat, the way your gut twists. “They were both so focused on sorting themselves out that I got left behind in a lot of ways.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh, I was like… thirteen? Fourteen?” You can’t remember exactly. It’s been so long.

“Shit.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it really wasn’t a good time for it. But… I think that contributed to why I feel a bit distant from my family.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t how you’d wanted this conversation to go. This was supposed to be about Kuroo, helping him feel more at peace with what’d happened to him. It wasn’t supposed to be your sob fest.

You open your eyes, looking straight at him. “Look, Tetsurou, it’s okay to take your time. And it’s good that you’re able to identify the causes of your troubles. That’s a great start.” you say as your heart races. Would he find this preachy? Nagging?

He just chuckles, shaking his head. “I just wish I could deal with them.”

“I think you’re doing better than you think you are,” you murmur, resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. “And… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Your heart feels like it’s running a damn marathon as he slows to a stop at the red traffic light. Have you overstepped? Are you being annoying? Worse yet, were you being invasive?

Kuroo turns to look at you properly for the first time on the drive.

He’s graced with the softest of smiles, his features much gentler than you’ve ever seen them. You’d almost believe there’s genuine affection in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

You pout at him reflexively. You haven’t had your hair ruffled in years.

✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the drive is quiet. Pleasantly so. Enough’s been said, and you feel no need to fill the silence.

Kuroo doesn’t either.

It’s nice to exist comfortably like this, the car’s heater working overtime as you trundle your way back to Tokyo. You drift in and out of a light sleep, bundled up in your jacket and your coat.

By the time Kuroo parks on your street, you’re ready to crawl into bed and hibernate for the rest of the month.

“Well,” Kuroo sighs. “Thanks again.”

You yawn, stretching your arms as far as the car will let you. “No problem.”

Kuroo wastes no time in getting out of the car and opening your door for you. You grimace as the cold air hits you; maybe you will crawl straight into bed. What better way to spend your day off?

You grab your things and slowly walk yourself to the front of your apartment building. Kuroo accompanies you the whole way.

“I’ll see you soon,” he nods to you as you turn around.

“I look forward to it,” you smile. God forbid, you’re actually excited.

Kuroos eyes light up for a moment. Are his cheeks red from the cold, or something else?

A bubble in your gut and you’re desperate to get inside, away from this confounding, stupidly charming man. You give what you intend to be your final nod, turning to open the door, but—

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “One more thing.”

You turn and tilt your head at him.

Somehow, he makes the stark winter light suit him. He grins. It’s brilliant enough to make you blush.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” he smiles, “I really appreciate it.”

#kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsurou x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo scenario #kuroo tetsurou scenario #cause and effect by rowan

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temilyrights · 4 years ago

Text

push

Summary: Alex Blake x Reader. There’s nothing like a tragedy to get someone to confess their feelings (and also maybe a little bit of jealousy). Fluff! Set after 200 (9x14).

A/N: Hey, I finally finished a fic! Just a short one, and It’s actually fluff instead of angst so you’re welcome. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) Enjoy!

Emily slides in next to you at the bar, watching the team all laughing and joking together after JJ’s rescue. She passes you a drink which you gratefully accept.

“Thank you.”

“Not a problem,” She smirks, that smirk that you know means she’s up to no good.

“What did you do?” You ask, whine seeping into your voice. It was never anything good.

She huffs, “Why do I have to have done something?

“Emily,” You warn, and she just smirks.

“Blake seems nice.”

Your eyes widen as panic courses through you, “Don’t you dare! I only told you about that because you were far enough away in London that you couldn’t meddle.”

“Please, like the team doesn’t know.” She huffs. “Both of you have been making eyes at each other since we got here.”

“They don’t, and we haven’t.” You stare into your drink instead of looking at Emily, “She doesn’t like me like that.”

She scoffs, “Okay, then explain why she’s been subtly looking in our direction ever since I came over.”

Your head snaps up, and you meet Alex’s eyes before she quickly looks away and returns to her conversation with Rossi. You shake your head.

“We talk about you a lot. She’s probably just interested in getting to know you.”

“Or she’s jealous.”

It’s your turn to scoff, “Yeah, right.”

“Maybe we should do something, see if she reacts to it.” She wiggles her brows.

You roll your eyes, “What like make out?” You laugh but Emily smirks.

“I mean you suggested it.”

“Really, Prentiss?” You give her a sharp push to her shoulder, and she releases a loud laugh.

Her eyes sparkle, as she shoots you her flirty smirk which you just roll your eyes at releasing a chuckle of your own.

“How long until you leave again?”

She looks at her watch, “About five hours.”

“I’m counting down the minutes.”

She scoffs, her face full of faux hurt. “You wound me.”

“Uh-huh, why don’t you go tease Morgan about the girl he’s seeing that he thinks we don’t know about.”

Her eyes light with interest, and she immediately turns to her target, “Oi, Morgan!” She shouts. He turns around, along with the rest of the team. “What’s this about you having a girlfriend?”

His face drops before he glares at you. You hold the hand not holding your drink up in defence as the team all laugh and Emily approaches him.

You sigh in relief grateful to have found her someone else to tease. You take a sip of your drink as Alex makes her way over. She hovers, looking slightly unsure if she wants to be here.

“So, you and Prentiss, huh?”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “No, no, no.” You shake your head for added emphasis, “We’re just friends.”

Alex looks shocked, “The two of you never?”

“Nope.”

You see the relief settle into her shoulders and she smiles more genuinely at you. “Oh.”

“Even if I did want to, which I don’t, it would have been futile. She’s too in love with JJ to notice anyone else.”

Alex doesn’t look surprised, and if it’s obvious to her who’s only seen them interact today, you aren’t sure how Will doesn’t know.

“Love’s weird.” She sighs, looking out at the team.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes met yours, and there’s something in them that makes your heart start beating wildly.

You clear your throat and look away, signalling loosely in the teams’ direction, “Well, we should get back to everyone else.”

You go to step past her, but she grabs your wrist, “Wait,” She protests.

Her eyes dart between yours, momentarily dipping to your lips. She looks over her shoulder to the door before looking back at you.

“Come with me.”

“Okay, sure.” You say hesitantly.

Her hand slips into yours and she pulls you with her. You place your glass on a table as you pass and deliberately ignore the smirk Emily’s sending you.

You shiver as the cold night air hits you, but don’t slow down as Alex guides you past the few smokers and away from watchful eyes.

She takes a deep breath as she comes to a stop. Her nerves radiate off her in waves and your heart beats rapidly in your chest. You resist the urge to ask her what’s going on, knowing she was trying to figure out what to say. She doesn’t let go of your hand as she steps in close.

Her hand caresses your cheek, and your eyes fall close as you lean into the contact, “Everything that’s happened over the last 24 hours has helped me realise what’s important to me, and I don’t want to let an opportunity pass because I’m scared. So, I’m going to do something now, and if you don’t want or feel the same things I do, that’s okay. I just can’t go another day pretending.”

Your breath shakes as she steps in closer, her nose brushes against yours, and your heart is practically beating out of your chest as she lowers her lips to yours and softly kisses you.

She tries to step back to see your reaction, but you slide your hand up to grip at her neck and pull her straight back to your mouth.

You share soft, careful kisses. Both of you hesitant, but with more kisses, your confidence grows, and your hand leaves hers to grip at her hair. She makes a small noise in the back of her throat as her hands pull you in closer and the kisses grow deeper and hotter.

She pulls back when it becomes difficult to breathe. Her forehead rests against yours and you slowly open your eyes. You bite your lip to stop the wide smile from spreading across your lips. Her eyes sparkle.

“I feel the same way.” You say a little breathlessly. “And I have for a long time.”

She kisses you again.

You groan when she pulls away, “Prentiss is gonna be the worst.”

She frowns, and you can see a range of emotions flicker across her face, “I thought you said-”

“I did.” You soothe, holding her tightly so she can’t pull away. “She knew how I feel about you and she was trying to make you jealous by flirting with me. She knew I’d never make a move myself, so she wanted to trick you into.”

“Oh, it worked.” She chuckles as her hand strokes your side. “I thought maybe I’d lost my chance.”

“Never.” You sigh, and this time you’re the one to kiss her.

#alex blake x reader #alex blake #criminal minds #cm #reader-insert #regal-roni #writing #fancfiction #push #emily prentiss #derek morgan #200 #9x14

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seokiie · 4 years ago

Text

𝚆𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝙼)

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘺. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 (𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯) 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘩𝘦��𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.2𝘬+

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘑𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘬𝘰𝘰𝘬/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘦𝘹𝘩𝘪𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘮, 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘫𝘰𝘣, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘴' 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵

It wasn't every day that you were invited out to a dinner party.

It wasn't every day that Jungkook himself invited you out to a dinner party.

As soon as you'd gotten the call, you searched through your closet for your nicest dress. It just so happened that your nicest dress was also your skimpiest. Welp, you had plenty of cardigans you could wear.

The reason Jungkook inviting you out to a dinner party was such a rare deal was simply because he liked keeping his work life and personal life separate. During the duration of your year-long relationship, you'd only ever met his six other bandmates three times. Three times. Of course, you knew it was in his best interest to keep you as far away from his busy idol life as possible. You only really met up in private to avoid prying cameras and invasive fans. He was also a bit possessive and uncharacteristically jealous for someone as hot as himself. He's always said things like, 'you're mine, don't even think about looking at other men'. You never had any complaints, though - a possessive Jungkook never failed to set your skin on fire.

"Wah, this is what you're wearing? You're really trying to make dinner difficult for me, huh." Jungkook looks up at you as you slide into the booth next to him, a wide smirk on his face. You'd arrived at the fancy restaurant via private car. It was safer if no one saw you arrive. When you're seated at the table with the seven men, you look around and realize that the whole establishment is empty, not counting the few bodyguards and waiters littered around.

"I couldn't find anything else under the lines of 'fancy but not too fancy, but still fancy enough for a fancy restaurant'." You laugh quietly and scoot closer to him till your thighs were just barely touching. You haven't seen him in almost three weeks. He had a busy schedule along with some overseas promos but you're just glad he's finally back.

"Regardless you look fucking delicious- I mean, that isn't quite appropriate for this setting..." You watch as his eyes roam over your frame hungrily. A familiar warmth curls through your body when a big hand covers your bare thigh. "You look fucking delightful."

"Ah, look at our Jungkookie! He's flirting, cute." Jimin giggles from where he's sat on the other side of Jungkook. You and a few of the other members laugh. Jungkook can't help laughing as well.

The dinner carries on nicely. You'd been a bit nervous at first because you didn't know the other members too well, but it seems you were nervous for no reason. Hoseok in particular managed to break you out of your shell the most with his antics and smiley demeanor. Somehow just sitting across from him made you excited.

A few minutes after placing orders, some appetizers are brought out while dinner is being made. While you were drifting between quiet and sociable, you weren't too fond of the fact that Jungkook had only said two sentences to you over the past thirty minutes - and that was when you arrived. Maybe you were just being overly clingy. You weren't gonna lie, you were pretty touch starved after going Jungkook-free for a couple of weeks.

You place a hand on his leg, just above his knee under the table. You were rightfully seeking attention in your opinion.

He doesn't seem to notice the hand on his leg and continues his conversation with Seokjin who was sitting across the table. Fine. You'd turn it up a notch.

"Y/n, it's been so long since we saw you. It's been three months I think." You look up to meet eyes with whoever was talking to you. It was Hoseok.

"Oh, yeah! I know how busy you guys are. You all work so hard."

"Ah, we try. By the way, if you're comfortable, you can talk casually. We've known each other long enough... even if we don't talk often." Hoseok gives a warm smile and you're dully aware of Jungkooks thigh tensing under your hand slightly. When you look over, he seems to still be conversing with Jin. You smirk.

"If it's alright with you. I heard working overseas was stressful, I was so worried when Jungkook called me..." You continue talking to Hoseok for a bit.

Jungkook was doing a good job ignoring the conversation going on to his right, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't a little frustrated. He knows he shouldn't get mad at his friend talking casually to his girlfriend but come on. Everyone knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder, especially you.

It isn't until he feels your almost searing hand crawl up his thigh that he fully grasps the situation. You knew he had a little green monster sitting on his shoulder. You knew this and you were talking to his hyung casually while touching him deliberately under the table. Did you want his attention that bad?

Sometimes Jungkook seriously wondered how his relationship with you worked out because you were so petty and holy shit, he was petty, too. So, so petty. If this was a game, he was not going to back down. He'd make sure you wouldn't get an ounce of his attention tonight.

That proves easier said than done because not only five minutes later, your hand is rubbing teasingly slow up and down his thigh, dangerously close to where his cock is nestled safely inside his dress pants.

Jungkook barely notices the way his legs open a little wider, inadvertently asking for more of your touch. Whatever Seokjin was talking about, Jungkook can't remember. Half his brain was focusing on trying not to get hard and the other half was trying to keep a straight face. Luckily, he was a good actor.

His dick? Not so much.

A minute passes before the teasing stops and suddenly there's a hand palming him through his designer clothes. Mid-sentence, he cuts himself off with a gasp. It's been so long since someone has touched him - since he's touched himself.

"You okay, Jungkook?" Jimin asks from beside him and Jungkook has no choice but to twist his startled expression into a small smile.

"Fine, just hungry. Can't wait for the food to come out." Jimin makes a sound of agreement. Thankfully, he doesn't hold his attention for long. Jimin turns back around to continue talking to Namjoon after giving him a concerned look. As soon as he's sure there are no eyes on him, Jungkook grabs your arm tightly and yanks you closer to him a little too roughly. This wasn't entirely uncommon. Jungkook was really, really strong and sometimes he forgot that he was... really, really strong. He had the tendency to drag you around and expressed guilt a few times thinking he's hurt you. In reality, it wasn't too bad and for some reason, you kind of enjoyed having Jungkook jerk you around. Especially in bed.

"Fuck do you think you're doing?" Jungkook says in a tone you can only describe as yelling as quietly as he can. His lips just barely ghosted over the shell of your ear and in an attempt to regain authority, you rub him a little harder through his pants, digging your palm slightly into the obvious bulge forming there. You can feel his cock twitch under your hand and he bites back a gasp.

"Nothing." You comment almost nonchalantly.

"Do you want to die? I'll give you a chance to let go, maybe I'll go easy on you when we get home." Jungkook hisses in your ear and now it's your turn to bite back a gasp. Negligent of his proposition, you continue touching him. Surprisingly, he had managed to get fully hard already, his cock having thickened up and now left a visible mark in his pants.

"Ah, foods here. Jungkook, your steak." At the sound of his name, Jungkook lets go of your arm almost as if your skin burned him. Seokjin takes the plates from the waiter and hands them to the respective member with Namjoon's help. Your food is placed in front of you but you barely pay any attention to it. How could you when there was a way better meal sitting right next to you?

The dinner continues like this for a bit. You stop touching him for a little while, waiting till he lets his guard down and brings a fork full of steak up to his mouth before returning your hand to his clothed length. He lets out a surprised, almost choked out moan only to slap a hand over his mouth. You have to hold back a snigger.

"Kookie, you sure you're okay?" Taehyung is looking at the maknae expectantly now, humor evident in his tone.

"Mmh!" Jungkook chokes back another moan when your hand unzips his dress pants and dips past the material. Why was he so sensitive all of a sudden? "'m alright! I'm- this steak, mmh, it's so good..."

"Is it really that good? Maybe I should've ordered that one..." Taehyung pouts slightly before poking at his salad. Whenever they went out to eat, Taehyung would order the coolest sounding thing on the menu, end up disappointed, then it would result in him eating the other member's food. Of course, they all happily offered to feed their precious Taehyungie - things like this always worked out in the end.

You continue your assault under the table, getting accustomed to Jungkook's length after weeks apart. There's a familiar curl of warmth under your skin when your thumb brushes over the thick head of his cock, his boxers wet with precum. How was he leaking already? The Jungkook you knew prided himself for being able to last almost five hours in bed, yet here he was, keening, thick and hard, dripping with precum after a little bit of fondling through his pants. There's a distinct feeling of power that flows through your blood at that thought.

"Hm, Jungkookie? Is it really that good?" You say quietly enough that only the man next to you can hear. Your tone was awfully smug and Jungkook didn't like that at all, not one bit.

"I'm going to fucking wreck you later, do you understand? Doing- shit- doing something like this in public? Ah, I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist." Jungkook's legs open a little wider and you really can't tell if it's subconscious or if he's doing it on purpose. Either way, it was clear he was enjoying it just as much as you were.

"I didn't peg you as an exhibitionist. You're so hard..." You say in awe. At some point during this whole encounter, you'd managed to forget just exactly why you were doing this. To be completely honest, you didn't really care.

"Wait, hah, y/n-ah..." Jungkook sputters out as quietly as he can. He had one hand on the edge of the lavish wooden table, gripping it with so much force his knuckles were turning white. You ignore his quiet pleas and instead slide your fingers over the sensitive vein that bulged on the side of his cock. You recognized it almost immediately even if you couldn't see it. Why wouldn't you recognize it - especially when you'd dragged your tongue over it so many times before. It never failed to make him go crazy.

"Y/n-ah, seriously... it's too- you're gonna-" Jungkook's legs open a bit more, his body aching for more stimulation as he bucked his hips up slightly. His cock twitches strenuously and before you can even think to pull your hand away, he's coming hard into his boxers.

Almost perfectly timed, his hand slips on the table and he knocks his wine glass over, spilling expensive alcohol all over the fancy wood and all over Taehyung's salad. The clanging of the glass on the table along with the way everyone gasps in shock overshadows the throaty moan that Jungkook lets out. He couldn't restrain it even if he tried.

"Ah, my salad!" Taehyung curses despite the fact he hasn't touched the salad more than once since it was served. Hoseok laughs at Jungkook's clumsiness and Taehyung's waterboarded salad.

"You weren't eating it anyway." Namjoon rolls his eyes and raises his hand to get the attention of a waiter. "Can we get some napkins? Or paper towels, please?"

As Namjoon and Jimin make an attempt to wipe up some of the spilled wine, you remove your hand from your boyfriend's pants. His cum had soaked through his boxers and there was a majority of it on your fingers. You didn't mind one bit.

Jungkook's eyes are far away for a moment as he comes down from the high of his first orgasm in weeks. As soon as his vision clears, you make sure the first thing he sees is you cleaning his cum off your fingers with your tongue. His eyes darken impossibly.

"I leave for a few weeks and this is what you do? You can't even wait till we're alone? The audacity of this girl." Jungkook mumbles, dialect peaking through. He quickly zips up his dress pants and he shivers at the uncomfortable feeling of cum in his boxers. He needed to get home and change asap.

"And you're laughing about it, too?" You giggle and nod. He sucks his teeth.

"I wasn't lying when I said I'd wreck you, princess." An almost sinister smirk pulls at Jungkook's lips and your smile all but falls. "Clearly, I need to give you some obedience training."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

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