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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again.

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do.

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck.

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation.

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours.

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals.

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor.

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that.

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath.

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like.

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day.

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave.

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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jangofctts · 3 years

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As You Are (Bucky Barnes x fem!reader)

Rated: Mature, Explicit 18+

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: smut, explicit language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence and injuries, light choking, brief thigh riding/grinding, vaginal fingering with them metal fingies, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (dont be a dick, wrap that stick), fucking on sam’s couch

a/n: ok hi this fic is very self indulgent bUT YKNOW WHAT WHO CARES EKJHEJHKEJH this is my first fic for marvel and AH I hope I did Bucky justice. ENJOY YALL

This had been a terrible idea.

Right from the minute you tailed after he and Sam to the Baron’s extensive vintage car storage. Bucky had explicitly withheld any and all information regarding this little excursion to protect you but of course you’d shown up—none too jazzed about the little stunt Bucky pulled regarding the Baron. Fair.

You were right—Bucky should have called but that overwhelming guilt of dragging you into another one of his problems stopped him from pressing that little call button. He never wanted to be the reason you ended up back on the run again. Though judging by the way things were going, it was more than likely you’d be in prison by the end of the week.

Luck had your back in that sort of regard—too bad it could never rescue you from your own stubbornness and grief regarding that damn shield.

You’d taken a devastatingly hard hit from Walker—a fractured orbital, a split lip and a dislocated shoulder. All preventable—if only Bucky kept better track of you before you showed up in that warehouse alone. Left to fight the shadow of what was once a symbol of hope for some—another man playing dress-up in something that will never belong to him.

It was just their luck Bucky and Sam arrived in time—preventing you from becoming another red stain of violence splattered over that shield.

James Buchanan Barnes is not afraid of much—but fuck. Seeing you crumpled over the concrete floor, all bloodied and struggling to raise a hand to protect your face… It was the same feeling as injecting his veins with a pure shot of adrenaline and anger shrouded in fear. He promised Steve he’d look after you…

And as Sam carried you out of that warehouse you had the gall to tenderly tell them that you were just fine—as if your mouth weren’t full of blood and a face blooming with patchy bruises. The jealousy that sparked through Bucky’s chest when you clung to Sam’s chest did nothing to help that dark festering pit inside his ribcage he’s attempting to suture back together.

Bucky clenches his jaw. At least you’re asleep now. Curled up against the window, holding your injured arm in a way that limited the turbulence from jostling it. It’s the first time Bucky would describe you as fragile. He know’s you’re anything but that—stubborn mostly—yet most of all brave. It’s what Steve admired most about you—what Bucky loves most about you too. That vibrant spark flowing through your blood and how you’re not afraid to shout along to your favorite songs despite the odd looks you get. Bucky envies how self-assured you are, how you’ll never lose yourself because you know just where you’re headed. He wishes he still had that sort of drive instead of all this uncertainty and guilt clouding each muscle and fibre in his body.

Bucky doesn’t realize the jet has landed until Sam stands and and places a large hand over your shoulder. Your face scrunches as you whine and curl further into your seat. “C’mon, kiddo.” You grumble something inaudible. “You want me to carry you?”

The delicate plates of vibranium clink together as Bucky’s hand tightens into a fist, jealousy flaring hot and bright. He quickly stands, too fast to be considering anything less than awkward. Sam’s brow quirks. “I can do it.”

“It’s cool, man,” Sam says as he scoops one arm under your legs and the other around your back. “I got her.”

Bucky bristles. Whatever.

It’s not like you and him have anything together. A one sided plague of affection that you’ll never know about—he wants to tell you. Fuck, the words burn through his tongue and collect like ashes between his teeth and yet they are never voiced from self sabotage. There’s no possible way to voice how you’ve haunted his thoughts and his dream since the moment his eyes met yours. How he’s memorized the lines of your smile and the sweet sound of your laugh, the sweep of your lashes and the rhythm of your steps. Bucky would know you deaf, blind, numb, in this world or any other twisted reality.

He had said that he wasn’t afraid of much, but that’s not entirely true. Eternity, oblivion, crowded rooms, being alone too long. And you. You terrify him. You have the power to pluck at the very strings of his soul and unravel him completely until he’s no more—and you don’t even know it. Bucky Barnes is less afraid of dying than he is of loosing you but that fear never once provides him the courage to tell you. You may not be a scribbled name in his book, but he still hopes that one day he’ll earn the chance to strike his cowardice and put to rest the wretched ache in his heart that he feels for you.

He wishes he told you in Wakanda, after the Blip, Riga, and right this instant. He watches Sam carry you out of the jet—what’s a little more time?

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The sun is beginning to melt into the horizon, turning the expanse of water into molten gold and shimmering blues. The hazy humidity from the late afternoon heat collects at the back of Bucky’s neck and the light breeze does nothing to cool. Bucky sighs and swipes at the bead of sweat creeping down his forehead with the back of his hand—he glances up.

A ghost of a smile creeps across his lips. You’re exactly where he and Sam left you three hours ago. Surprising to be quite honest—you never did like to stay in one place for longer than ten minutes. You’re a pain in his ass, simply said.

But now—now you’re haphazardly splayed out on the lawn chair you were forced into, a juice box loosely held in your good hand while the other still remains in the sling. He can’t tell if you’re asleep—Steve’s sunglasses do an excellent job of hiding your eyes. Yet as Bucky wanders closer, your head rolls to your right in greeting.

“It’s rude to stare, y’know,” you grumble, lifting the juice box to your mouth. Your lips purse around the plastic straw. “And before you ask—yes, I have a very important job I’m currently overseeing.”

Bucky quirks a brow. “What—hogging the lawn chair?”

“No—“ You huff. You gesture with your juice box at the large cooler your sandaled feet are propped up on. “I’m the booze master. God of the ale, destroyer of sobriety—“

“Alright, Booze Master,” Bucky interrupts with a snort. “Why don’t you bestow upon me a beer, your majesty.”

You tap your index finger over your chin as a lazy smile fixes itself over your lips. “Granted.”

You slide your legs off the cooler and with a pained grunt you shift forward. Bucky shoots his arm out and steadies you back against the chair by your shoulder before you get any further. Your face pulls into a grimace.

“I got it, kid. Relax.”

Bucky pops open the cooler and fishes out a beer and pops the cap off between his left index finger and thumb. You watch with a frown, “I could’ve done that for you.”

Bucky resists the urge to roll his eyes and takes a seat on the cooler. The bitter fizz floods his tastebuds as he takes a sip of his drink, a tangible silence blanketing the space between you. He gets it—people like he and you can never settle for complacency. As if the rest isn’t deserved despite the bloody knuckles and the shattered glass that slices through skin—the bruises and the broken bones. None of it is enough—not worthwhile to preserve yourself when other’s so desperately need your help.

Or maybe it’s penance.

Bucky sure as shit finds himself swallowed by the black maw of guilt each and every day. Battling the never ending shadow of doubt that clings to his soul like glitter to a an old carpet. Bucky believes it’s safe to say that you’re the same—every good deed you do added to the imaginary scale weighing against the bad despite it feeling hollow and insurmountable. Paying in blood to equate the amount you’ve spilled. A hopeless battle you both insist on fighting.

Bucky sighs through his nose, bends at the waist and collects both your ankles in his left hand. You let him lift them both and settle your legs over his knees. You shiver, an eruption of goosebumps rushing up your skin at the cold metallic shock of Bucky’s vibranium thumb scrapinh over your bare flesh.

Bucky’s lips tilt down ever so slightly. “Did I hurt you?”

“Never,” you rush to say before he has the chance to flee. “S’just cold.”

His hum reverberates low in his chest as those cerulean blue eyes fall to his hands. You clench your jaw until your teeth ache as his left thumb continues to stroke over the delicate skin covering the joint of your ankle. This is…new…

You’d been close with Steve and Sam, and by proxy Bucky—in some weird adjunct way. Compared to Sam’s teasing bumps of the shoulder and that infectious laugh far more addicting than the golden liquor of the sun, Bucky is frigid. Still attempting to shake off the whole Winter Soldier thing that’s molded onto his bones like stubborn permafrost. Touch had always been tricky with him—even a friendly pat over the back or a simple tap to the harm had him tensing under the touch—muscle and steel bunching to prepare for a harsh blow that would never arrive. Never from you.

Bucky rarely sought out your physical comfort—you were always the one to initiate those friendly touches even if he was the type to just sit and ignore you like a grouchy old cat barely clinging onto that ninth life. The first time he breached that fragile barrier was in Wakanda—something in Bucky cracked and split into a cavernous ravine of nebulosity. Stitches shred apart then stapled back together as he grabbed your arm and wrestled you into a bone-crushing hug. You didn’t need to ask to realize he cried the entire time, gripping your shirt like a lifeline while he shuddered and sobbed into the crook of your neck. To him everything from the rain to silk sheets felt like shrapnel and the stars tasted like old blood and the past of things long gone—yet you were familiar.

A comfort for the much needed healing of the scattered pieces of a man. You don’t mind helping him pick up the tidbits and reattach them with veins of silver. It’s the least you can do.

The second time occurred after the loss of Steve. Some part of you had been wrenched out with his departure and he never bothered to return it. It doesn’t matter anymore—the hollow ache had been soothed with the Winter Soldier clutching you to his chest until you drifted off into a fitful sleep. A tether to a new reality you both partake in.

Which brings you to now. There’s no cathartic reasoning behind his touch…it’s simple…a risky leap of faith into unknown territory. Bucky’s eyes lift to meet yours—curiosity swimming in those icy irises. You don’t mind—in fact you quite like the calloused warmth of his hand and the opposing chilly metal one tentatively exploring your exposed skin.

“You have a scar here,” Bucky murmurs, skimming the thumb made up of flesh and sinew over the mottled skin occupying the crease of where the top of your foot meets your ankle.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “I fell on barbed wire.”

“Clumsy,” he chides, quirking a dark brow.

Your shoulders bounce with a huff. “I was like—twelve when it happened, James.”

His mouth quirks in a half smile, quite liking the validation of his name in the way your mouth speaks it. He wonders if you know the weight of granting you that leeway of calling him that. Shit—he doesn’t care what you call him, everything sounds lovely when you say it.

There’s another silence—holding your breath until something splits and shatters into a million pieces. You’d be a liar if you said you didn’t want anything more than just friendship with Bucky but fear of rejection is a tricky thing. You take the easy way out and offer him the chance of something more on a silver platter.

“Bucky?”

His fingers whisper up your shin as he inclines his head.

“I’m tired. Drive me back to Sam’s?”

“Sure thing, doll.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Bucky holds the door open for you as you stumble in, escaping the hazy southern heat. He disappears into the kitchen as you make a beeline straight for the couch, sighing loudly once the plush cushions meet your back. You lazily lift your head once you hear his familiar footfalls nearing.

With him he brings two Otterpops, one blue raspberry and the other cherry. Once he hands it to you he takes a seat on your left, close enough that his thigh and shoulder bumps against yours. “Don’t tell Sarah’s kids that these were the last ones.”

You roll your eyes and promptly stick the Otterpop into you mouth. “‘M ain’t no snitch.”

His low chuckle reverberates through his chest. The silence that follows isn’t an awkward one as you enjoy the cold treat—it’s filled with the humming cicada bugs outside and the breeze through the wind chimes. Comfortable with the normalcy—just a couple of regular old people enjoying life for a suspended amount of seconds.

Once you finish the Otter Pop, you crumple the plastic up and rest it on the coffee table. He does the same—hints of the blue syrup sticking to the cracks of his plush lips. You force yourself to avert your eyes. You cheeks heat with a flush as you rush to occupy your mind with anything but wild fantasies of Bucky’s mouth. You lean forward again, pointedly ignoring the way Bucky’s eyes track your movements as you shuck off your sling, the prickle of unused muscles and bruised ligaments rushing through the limb. You wince as you slowly roll your shoulder.

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw clenches. You sigh—he’s still blaming himself for your injuries. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not everyone has freaky healing powers, Buck,” you snort. You rush to appease him when he frowns. “It’s getting better though. Still can’t sleep on it—but eh.”

“I’m sorry.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. No matter how many times you tell him he’ll never believe you. That’s something only he can fix. Doesn’t stop you from telling him anyway. “Stop blaming yourself for my idiocy. I made my choice and paid the price for it.”

Bucky’s eyes drop to his hands. “Can’t help it, sweetheart. Steve told me to look after you.”

Your heart constricts within your chest like a fist. You inhale and reach out to rest your hand over his wrist. “Funny—he told me the same thing about you.”

It surprises him—his dark brows furrow as his mouth parts, but nothing comes forth. Grappling with the right words that fit with what he feels. He’s still learning how to give his soul a name that fits. Learning how to take the dark, twisted bramble of his heart and make it into something that doesn’t ache each time it beats. He’s still learning how to look himself in the eyes, point to himself and say that there’s nothing frightening in there. Not anymore. No more.

You suck in a breath and muster up the embers of courage. Here goes nothing—

You cup Bucky’s cheek, the scrape of stubble welcome against your warm palm as you gently turn his face to look at you. His eyes drift to yours when the mumbled syllables of his name tumble from your lips. His eyes are framed with dark circles of wildflower bruises, his small smile a moonbeam stark against battered skin. You’ve dreamt so many times of swallowing it whole and pressing him close enough that your heartstrings become entangled with no hope of separation. But that’s something for him to decide.

You drop your hand cradling Bucky’s jaw, but before your hand completely falls Bucky surges forward. His large hands rush to cup your face, swallowing your noise of surprise as his plush lips fall onto yours. The syrupy flavor of a Blue Raspberry Otter Pop he stole from Sarah’s freezer lingers on Bucky’s mouth, mixed in with the smell of old leather and cracked cardamom. Bucky nips at your bottom lip, tugging once and then rolling it between the blunt enamel of his teeth. Despite all the bad jokes regarding his age and senior citizen status—fuck he’s a damn good kisser. Compared to him you feel clumsy, sloppy, but no matter how hard you search for his distaste he doesn't seem to care in the slightest—if anything he’s pulling you closer.

Bucky’s kisses may taste like the middle of June and a first love, but desperation lines every action like a wound with jagged edges. It’s a slow process learning to be free, but one day he’ll transform into starlight—and instead of a kiss like fire, it’ll be like touching your lips to a constellation’s aureate mouth.

When Bucky pulls away, sucking in air and resting his forehead on yours, you catch a whiff of his hair. Freshly washed and smelling a bit like Sam’s shampoo. Your lips quirk. You’ll make sure to keep that a secret from Sam.

You pull back just enough to meet his eye, resting your palm over his vibranium hand that still cups your cheek. “Am I the first person you’ve kissed since the stone ages?”

His lips pull into a cheeky smile. “Maybe.”

You laugh and roll your eyes, skating your palm down the front of his shirt, the heat of his skin near searing through the fabric. “I guess we have a lot of catching up to do, huh?”

Bucky’s lips smother your small moan as he drags you into another kiss. You can feel his smile as he murmurs his agreement between desperate kisses and the enticing warmth of his tongue skimming along yours. The next time you part for air, Bucky drops his strong hands from your face to instead wrap them around the curve of your hips. He tugs you over his right thigh with ease and breathes a gentle sigh of your name, beginning to pepper kisses over you cheek and down the slope of your jaw.

Bucky reaches your ear and carefully nibbles the cartilage, his voice a warm scrape in your ear. “I want you.”

It’s such a simple phrase…and yet…it tears through you and pools like a heavy weight right to your center. “Then take me.”

Quick as a strike of a match, you’re tipped backwards, cradled right between the arm of the couch and the back of it. Heat rushes through each limb and gathers in your cheeks as Bucky’s vibranium fingers skate up your chest and curl around the column of your throat—that hardened soldier he’s tried to bury bleeding through the cracks of his resolve. You don’t care. You gasp into his mouth as he squeezes ever so slightly while he pushes a firm thigh between your legs. Shit—this is how you’re gonna die—grinding on Bucky’s muscled leg while he’s got a hand around your throat.

What a way to go.

With his other hand he grips the meat of your thigh and pulls you higher, grinding the rough material of his jeans covering his crotch into yours. You whine and arch into him. You need more.

You both stay here for a good while up until it feels like you’re ready to burst at the seems if you don’t have him now. Bucky is no better—cheeks flushed as he fumbles with the zipper to relieve the noticeable bulge straining against it. Impatient and needy, you shoo away his hands and do it yourself, easily sliding your warm hand down his navel and over his boxers to palm at his cock. Bucky’s hand twitches around your neck, a sweet groan filling the air when you softly squeeze him through the elastic.

“Fuck, you’re gonna…” Bucky trails off and buries his nose into the crook of your neck. “Gonna make me cum in my pants if you don’t—don’t stop.”

While the thought is tempting, you want this to last just a little bit longer. Rush after the glorious high of just being near him, his kisses, everything about him. Bucky grunts at the loss of your hand and mouths a wet trail of sloppy kisses up your neck and returns to your lips. When you part he sweeps a stray strand of hair and tucks it behind your ear. He smiles softly.

“Can I try something?” He breaths. Before he can even tell you what his idea is, you’re happily nodding along. “Wanna taste you. Been thinking about it ever since Wakanda.”

Oof. His words shoot straight your center. “Bucky—why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

His mouth quirks. “You make me nervous.”

Rolling your eyes you plant a kiss on his forehead and grant him his simple desire. Bucky sits and slides to the floor, close enough that he’s still able to hover over you. You lift your hips as Bucky tugs your shorts and underwear down and off your legs. Besides the general anxieties of being half naked in front of an incredibly attractive man and performing something so sinful on a friend’s couch—there’s a strange stroke of pride that alights through each of your vertebrae. A powerful man willingly dropping to his knees to please you.

Bucky shoots you a smile and slides his hands around your ribcage, bends forward slightly and captures you mouth in a deep kiss. He parts and nips down your jaw and over your throat, sliding his tongue over the marks he leaves with his teeth as if to soothe the slight sting. You whine and arch into him as he slides lower, leaving an obvious trail of bruises and teeth marks in his wake until he reaches the collar of your shirt. Bucky moves his palms under the fabric to grab at your breasts, the flats of his fingertips rolling over your nipples that peak through your bra. You suck in a shaky breath when Bucky catches the pebbled bud between his forefinger and thumb, the hard vibranium of his fingers scraping over it. A low hum rumbles through his chest as he leans forward to playfully nip at your collarbone.

“I wanna see you naked.” Bucky admits as he slips his hands out of your shirt. You shiver as those chilly metal fingers gently come to rest on the outside of your bare thighs.

“Not here, Buck,” you sigh. “T-they—fuck—they can come back any minute.”

Bucky quirks a brow, eyes dropping between your legs, then back up with a smirk. His plush lips part, yet before he can disprove your silly point—that your bare ass is already out and taking off the shirt would barely make a difference—you interject.

“Shut up.”

His shoulders bounce with a chuckle. “You have such a way with words, y’know that?”

You make a noise low in your throat and reach out to sharply tug his ear. He easily bats your hand aside, hooks his hands under your ass and hauls until you’re all but hanging over the edge of the cushions. You squirm, unable close your legs or to relieve some of that burning tension collecting in your core as Bucky lowers himself and wedges his shoulder between your thighs. He slides his hand over your calfs and wrestles them over his broad shoulders—earning a perfect view of your pussy. You’re already wet—worked up and running on borrowed time. You roll your head back onto the back of the couch and clench your jaw. You don’t want to rush him but Christ—you really don’t want Sam or Sarah to find you like this.

It feels like ages before Bucky’s lips touch your belly and then your navel with his warm tongue. With a grunt he shoves your shirt up to your breasts and circles your bellybutton with the tip of his tongue—his enhanced strength easily pinning you down as you jerk and giggle.

Bucky picks up his head and grins. “Try and hold still, doll.”

No sharp retort comes to mind. Fuck—he’s already got you so expertly wrapped around his finger.

Bucky hums, satisfied with your weak nod and continues on.

Bucky’s bare fingers trace minuscule patterns into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, coaxing out a shiver that rushes through your body. They tickle towards the apex of your thighs and settle close enough to reach your aching center. He pauses for a moment and while you know he’s there, you curse when you feel his thumbs softly part the lips of your soaking cunt. They gently work up and down, smearing your wetness around but never enough to give you any friction as your body adjusts to the feel of flash and vibranium. You bite back a groan as your hips unconsciously twitch.

Unsatisfied with simply touching you, Bucky shifts his weight to better reach your core. “Fuck—you’re so pretty.”

There's a moment just before Bucky swoops down, face hovering close enough that you can feel his sticky, warm breath fan across you inner thighs. Anticipation grips your heart with an iron hold, and then— Bucky licks a broad stripe from the base of your cunt all the way up to your swollen clit. His mouth is molten, tongue like liquid velvet as you shudder and grab at his hair. Bucky grunts against you as you drag him closer by the short strands—greedy for any and all touch he gifts you. Bucky’s mouth slips around your clit, sucking and tracing circles over the bundle of nerves with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut as a quiet moan wrenches free from your vocal cords.

He trails lower, sucks on your labia, and makes his way down to your soaking entrance. The wet heat of his tongue circles your cunt, skips over it completely to catch the wetness before it leaks over the couch. Bucky opens his mouth wide and groans in appreciation, devouring your pussy like he’s been denied this his entire life. Desperation lingers on his tongue and all you are is the honey sweet taste of salvation.

“Shit—Bucky,” you cry, throwing your hips forward in search of more friction.

It's perfect. So fucking delicious.

You tense as the vibranium tips of his fingers, two of them, press at your entrance, teasing the clenching ring of soft muscle before sinking in. The chilly digits slip in with ease—all the way up to the second knuckle and when he draws them back, they're slick with your wetness. With a self-satisfied grin, Bucky thrusts them back in, then out—setting a steady pace that makes everything ache with desire. It leaves you just hovering over the sharp edge of ecstasy, the catch of his knuckles and imperceptible metal plating dragging along your walls pure torture. Fuck—he’s going to be the death of you—

Bucky’s mouth dips down a second time and sucks on your clit and with a few more curls and thrusts of his fingers inside of your clenching walls, your body seizes up tight. You're flying off that edge, faster than a fucking freight train. You cum onto his tongue and fingers with a strangled cry of his name, sparks of blurry white lining the edges of your vision as your back arches. Bucky continues to lick you through your orgasm, even as you buck and squirm in his iron hold. Supernovas implode behind your eyelids as heat, hotter than wildfire and jet fuel spreads from your center all the way up your stomach and down to your toes. You're shaking, lucid enough to hear Bucky murmur his praise—feeling the vibration of his groan, as he licks up the flood of your wetness over his tongue.

Your brain swims in hazy bliss as you float back to reality. He's still curling his fingers into your pussy and it damn near hurts. You're too sensitive. Nerves rubbed raw and still throbbing—but you're too fucked out and still riding the waves of your orgasm to push him away. Bucky is all too happy to remain between your legs—takes this opportunity to tilt his fingers into your cunt faster, suckle and lave his hot tongue over your clit that burns from overstimulation—somehow you're back at the very edge again.

It's sharper than a vibranium razor against bare flesh. Your thighs shake around him as he twists his fingers inside you and bumps agains that tiny, little patch of nerves. You cry out as an orgasm floods through you veins, rupturing each cell in your being with molten pleasure. Your core pulses around Bucky’s fingers, fucking you through it until those burning waves of release eventually cease to a fading throb. You whine and push at his forehead because he's still going. You panic a bit—fucking hell, he’s gonna make you cry—but he pulls away, his mouth and chin wet with your slick.

“Feel good?” Bucky purrs, resting his cheek on your thigh.

If judging by the way you thighs still quiver and your chest heaves—then yeah—it felt good.

Cheeky bastard.

“Get up here—“

You grapple with his shirt, fisting the thin fabric, but he’s heavy and your entire body feels like jello. Your grip strength is all but laughable at the moment as Bucky clambers back onto the couch and grabs both of your legs, slotting his narrow hips between them. One leg is stuck against the back of the couch while the other hangs off the edge, foot skimming the hardwood floor to accommodate Bucky. Not the most comfortable but fuck it—who cares.

Bucky grunts when you lift your hands and hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans, tugging them halfway down his legs with a sharp yank. Already a dark patch of wetness stains the fabric of his boxers, the impressive bulge straining against the elastic and begging to be released. Your eyes meet his icy blue ones as you slowly pull his boxers over his cock. It bounces up towards his navel, thick and beautiful just like the rest of him.

Impatient, Bucky’s fingers curl around your wrist and presses your open palm against his cock. He’s thick and heavy in your hand—perfect. The bead of precum that pools at his flushed tip smears against the inside of your palm as you experimentally roll your wrist, fascinated with the feel of his foreskin rolling over the steel heard flesh with each stroke.You give his a cock a rougher squeeze, a bolt of liquid heat settling in the pit of your stomach as a stifled moan reaches your ears.

A sharp hiss of hair passes through his clenched teeth as you lightly tug on his cock. From the base up you pull, fixed upon the throbbing flesh, flushed and pulsing and all for you. His cock bobs when you let go—he huffs out a disappointed noise. “I need you, Buck—please.”

Your previous two orgasms did seemingly nothing to soothe the growing ache for him. It prickles up your spine and singes through every nerve and bone—you whine and arch your hips, trying to touch your slick cunt to his cock. Bucky growls your name and pins your hips to the couch with ease.

With his left hand, Bucky firmly grips your jaw, his stare folding into something serious. “You sure?”

Your tongue runs over your bottom lip. You grin. “Do your worst.”

Bucky curses and readjusts your calf slung over his hip and grips the base of his cock. You shudder as he runs the blunt head through your folds, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the flesh of his forearm as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and arch. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s certainly not small in any way shape or form. You’ll feel him for days afterwards as your cunt swallows inch after inch.

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw clenched tight as sweat beads at his hairline. Shit—he’s gorgeous—struggling not to loose control the moment he’s buried inside of you. You allow yourself to adjust for a moment but your own impatience rakes down your spine with claws of scorching arousal. You rock your hips in curiosity and squeeze around him.

“Fuck—“ A ragged moans severs his words as your gentle rocking tilts into abrasive jolts. At this angle it’s difficult to fuck yourself onto his cock, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. His left hand shoots to your throat, the chilly metal a stark contrast to your flushed skin. You dip your head back, exposing more of your supple skin—all his for the taking.

You dig the heel of your foot into the small of his back and grab at his shoulders—tempting him into fucking you already. You’ve waited long enough. Bucky snarls your name, hooks one hand under your ass and pulls his cock nearly all the way, out only to slam back in with devastating force. There’s no time to adjust or gather your obliterated thoughts before Bucky sets a pace, desperate and feral. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what seems like a millennia—and maybe it has been. Bucky shifts, widening his knees as much as he can to sink lower onto your body—his soft hair tickles your cheek as his choppy exhales burn hot over your skin.

Bucky turns his head to steal a kiss, open mouthed and catastrophic. No words are exchanged as he fucks into you with brutal strength aided by that damn super-soldier serum—there’s no need for them, not now anyway. You complete each other without the spoken utterances—still both a work in progress. Though most things are you suppose—constantly remaking yourselves, but instead of smashing the haphazard pieces back together alone—you have one another. You bury your hand in his hair and cry his name.

You choke out another groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter and damn—you really hope nothing gets on this stupid couch. You don’t want to explain that Sam.

Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, blazing through each and every vein with the brilliance of a wildfire escaping the edges of the forest. This is gonna ruin you. Bucky’s hand reaches between your bodies and rubs tight, controlled circles over you swollen clit. There’s no build up to your orgasm—just a calamitous surge of warmth that sweeps your very soul off its feet. Your nails dig into Bucky's back as you shake and fumble for a foothold in your own consciousness—the steady warmth of his body a much needed anchor.

You have no time to recover because he’s still going. Thrusting into your pussy with violent slaps that echo through the room and will more than likely leave bruises against your ass. Through the pressure of his hand over your windpipe—threatening to cut your air off completely—you garble out his name. Bucky drops his head to his chin, the weight of his gaze landing between your legs, watching the way his entire length disappears inside of you. When he raises his head he molds his mouth to yours. The soft, wet kisses rapidly morph into pricks of his teeth, his gravelly moans so pleasing to hear.

You arch and tilt your head back as he presses you harder into the couch. The vibranium hand latched onto your jaw, works it open and slides a thumb past your plush lips. You lave your tongue over the digit—the metallic tang flooding your tastebuds. “Good girl—m’close. A little longer.”

Bucky’s panting breaths mingle with yours as his pace turns vicious. Chasing his high that he so desperately needs. Overstimulation bites at your nerves, but with a gentle tug to the soft strands of hair on the back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, Bucky bursts. His moan jumps up an octave, eyes slamming shut as he buries his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he cums. He’s shuddering in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides. You whine and tilt your hips up to prevent it from spilling onto the couch.

Finally he slows to a stop, ragged breathing filling the air as the heat and weight of his body becomes a welcome comfort. Eventually that warmth grows stifling. He lazily pulls away, observing gaze drinking in each inch of bare skin exposed—the marks and the light sheen of sweat. You hiss as he curiously drags his thumb over the bite mark lingering just above your collarbone.

He parts his plush lips but before he can apologize, you interject. “Don’t—I like the reminder.”

Bucky shakes his head and drops down to tempt your lips into a lazy dance. “You’re a weirdo.”

You smile and cup his cheek. “I’m not the one with a staring problem. You know that you can’t kill people by glaring, right?”

Bucky kisses your cheek, your jaw, and then the dip of your throat. “You don’t ever shut up, do you?”

You shudder as his softening cock twitches inside of you, another coal of desire flaring in the pit of your stomach. You flash him a coquettish grin. “Maybe if you give my mouth something to do, you’ll finally get some peace and quiet.”

Something dark and dangerous flickers within those eyes. You shiver as one hand returns to your throat while the other draws teasing patterns over the outside of your thigh. He draws in close, nips at the shell of your ear and chuckles darkly. “You’re on.”

#weLL here we are in a marvel hole kwejrkwejhr #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x fem!reader #james bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws #the avengers x reader #my writing

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annie-sae · 3 years

Text

Wouldn’t mind

Pairing: Kazutora x fem!reader, past Baji x fem!reader

Hurt/comfort

Author note: This is my way of dealing with Baji’s death finally being animated, this is me comforting myself so I don’t keep crying.

Also, I posted this on AO3 as well:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33561445

Part of the reason you decided to get close to him was kind of the same reason why you decided to help out Chifuyu and the remaining founding Toman members in any way you could; even if that meant putting yourself in various fights. It was a way to honor his memory.

You met Baji Keisuke; your Kei; as nothing more than a child because you were neighbors and your mom happened to be friends with his mother which ended in them arranging lots of playdates for you both ever since you could remember.

Your mothers always said you were meant to be and they were right, so yeah, they were delighted once you two finally stopped denying yourselves and started to date.

You two got together after one time in which Baji got into a particularly bad fight and you found him on your way home; his hands all bruised but despite how much they must have been hurting he was smiling in that unique way of his that always told you that no matter the pain he won and enjoyed himself.

To be honest you didn’t like that he always got into fights nor how reckless he could be but you had to admit that there was always something about the way his eyes glinted that drew you in.

You dragged him inside your home, knowing that his mother would flip out if she saw him and taking advantage of the fact that your mother was to get home late, you pushed him to the couch, went to the kitchen for a bag of frozen vegetables, grabbed his hand after cleaning the blood off and held the bag to his knuckles hoping that it would bring down the swelling.

There was no way of knowing who made the first move but next thing you knew after that was that you two were kissing; the frozen bag laying on the floor long forgotten. After that you finally acknowledged your feelings and started dating. There was no grand gesture, it was just one of many moments that you shared daily yet it was perfect.

Baji liked to keep you away from Toman businesses so for the most part you didn’t actually know the rest of the members except for Chifuyu; whom you met on various occasions while going to visit your boyfriend; and Mikey that you met as a child since you were always following around Baji and in a way became your friend too; but that was it. He kept that apart from the side of his life that involved you because he was well aware of how messy it could get and he didn’t want to drag you into any trouble.

Yet his gang life caught up to him, crashing into your world and pushing you into a lonely abyss that still to this day left a hole in your chest.

You’d always remember that dreaded day when your mother came home later than usual without letting you know anything, eyes teary and red rimmed. The moment she looked at you, she pulled you into a strong hug and sobbed as she caressed your hair murmuring a string of words you couldn’t really make out.

She was the one to deliver the news of his passing, how she was late because she was at the Baji household and had to accompany his mother to claim her son’s body after the woman received a call from the police station telling her that the boy had been stabbed and bled to death.

The day would never come when you’d forget the pain that shot through your body as you learned that he was gone. It hurt unlike anything else you have ever experienced, as if someone was crushing your chest like it was made out of paper, air knocked out of your lungs and the only thing you could do was scream helplessly his name as you held for dear life onto your mother’s frame. You felt bile rise up your throat so fast that it was a miracle that you didn’t throw up.

His funeral wasn’t any easier. Not when you arrived and his mom pulled you to his casket saying just how handsome he looked, inviting you to see him in a way that you couldn’t refuse.

Around an hour after yourself, arrived Chifuyu who went to you after giving his condolences to his best friend’s mother that held him the way she used to hold her boy but now she’d never get the chance to do anymore.

If you were being completely honest, you couldn’t remember much more of that day, your mind was hazy, too many gaps in the memory of all that transpired.

Only two things were clear as day in your mind. First was the way that Kei had looked inside that coffin smiling peacefully and for a moment you almost fooled yourself into thinking that he was just sleeping, but he was pale, his canines weren’t showing and his eyes were slightly sunken but you had to agree with his mom because he looked handsome indeed. The second was that Chifuyu stayed by your side throughout the whole thing, in fact he was the one who told you what actually happened and you were thankful for it all.

He told you what Baji did and why he did it and you believed it the second the words left his mouth because you knew him well and if there was anything that defined your beloved boyfriend was his heart, how willing he was to give anything for those that he cared about; his unwavering loyalty; you just wished he hadn’t put himself on the line for that.

Twelve years have passed and a lot of things changed since his parting, for starters you became a member of Toman.

One night; around a month after everything happened; you went to the Musashi temple fully aware that it was the place that the boys used as their base and in front of everyone gathered there; bracing yourself; you walked towards Mikey, bowed deeply and begged for him to accept you as a member.

At first most of the guys there laughed at you while others frowned and called you names shooing you away but you stayed still, that was until a big hand grabbed you by the arm and that was when you pulled away from it and punched the guy square in the nose remembering the time Baji taught you how to pack a punch. The guy tried to send a blow towards you but was stopped by Chifuyu yet the whole commotion came to a halt with Mikey’s commanding voice.

“Y/N, you know this is a guys-only gang”

“I’m aware, Mikey, but” you clenched your fists “but Keisuke cared about this gang so I feel like I must join, to protect everything he fought for” you raised your head “he also taught me how to fight so you don’t have to worry about me being a burden on you and I know a few things about first aid, I can carry my own weight” you were thankful for your mother being a nurse and having taught you a bit.

He stared at you, his eyes giving away nothing.

“The first division can take her in” Chifuyu supplied.

Mikey raised a brow and looked at another blonde guy.

“Takemitchy, you are the first division’s captain, do you agree to take her?” the guy straightened up and after sharing one look with Chifuyu he nodded.

An uproar started as a lot of guys started to complain about how bad of an idea it was to admit a girl in the gang but Draken stopped them with one word.

Mikey looked at you once more, then he sighed and nodded.

“Then welcome, Y/N L/N, from now on you are a member of the Tokyo Manji Gang under the first division”.

Later that day you gave your thanks to Chifuyu and Takemichi, for getting behind you and promised to help them in any way possible but Chifuyu made you promise to be safe and only join them as a last resource because he couldn’t allow Baji’s girlfriend to get hurt since he promised him he’d take care of you.

You knew that your parents wouldn’t be happy with you being a part of a gang but you had to do it, it was a way to stay close to Kei and you needed that or else you would have gone crazy, you were also thankful because life had it that you were assigned to the division that used to be his.

Shit happened but you always took things head on and you had to admit that Chifuyu and Takemichi played a crucial part in you surviving all the crappy things that happened until the gang disbanded. While still a member you were extremely grateful for makeup since it helped you hide from your parents a good amount of nasty bruises that came from the fights.

The second thing that changed was that you moved out of your parents’ house from the moment you started college and although at first it was hard and you were living in a tiny apartment that resembled more to a matchbox yet it was the only thing you could afford at the moment with the part time job you had but you were decided to not return home, not because you weren’t comfortable with them but because they were already doing too much for you by paying for your studies so you didn’t want them to be spending any more money on you.

You managed and after a while you got a better job that meant a higher pay grade and you moved out of your tiny place to your current one that was bigger and just a couple of minutes away from the cemetery where the Baji family grave was.

Even when you had exams due the next day, even when you were way too busy, you still made it a habit to go visit him daily, it didn’t matter if you had to walk for long or that you were so tired you could have fallen asleep while standing, you still went to see him.

Your mother told you once that maybe you should let go, that he wouldn’t like to have you clinging to him this much and to appease her you went to a couple of dates once every three months but you never made it past the first date but funnily enough that landed you a few long lasting friendships with some of the guys you tried to date.

One time his mom talked to you and told you just how grateful she was with you for loving her son the way you did but that you didn’t owe him anything, that you could move on because she was sure that was what he would have wanted and maybe she was right; to hell you knew that she was; but it wasn’t a matter of you feeling like you owed devotion to him but more like no one ever compared to him, not a single person awoke in you the same feelings he did, not with the same intensity it was kind of like a beautiful curse because you grieved daily his absence but you wouldn’t want it other way, even if you went back and told yourself that by loving him you’d end up in pain, you’d still go through it all because the time spent with him was worth it and you told her that so she smiled and even talked with your mother making her stop begging you to date and leave you to your own devices.

Another thing that changed was you because you cut your hair really short; yet without needing it you still wore a hair tie on your wrist daily as if it was some sort of amulet because it reminded you of him.

Also, with the bigger place you adopted three beautiful cats that you loved dearly, first there was Blue; whose black hair shone blue under certain light hence his name; then there was Leo; an orange tabby cat you found one day and adopted instantly; and Jin; a maine coon that was your appointed guardian and didn’t like anyone around you nor him.

The three always slept with you; which made you thankful for getting a big bed when you first moved; and in a way they made your life less lonely because in their presence you felt as if Keisuke was right there with you which made sense because you two had made plans about living together once highschool was over and then adopt a ton of cats, all the cats your parents never allowed in the house when you were younger.

Of course things don’t always end up the way we plan them, you knew that better than most although to be completely honest you never expected Kazutora to come into the picture.

You new who he was, on one occasion Kei told you that him speaking on his behalf and taking the full blame for what happened with Mikey’s older brother was a big factor on him staying out of juvie so in a way you were thankful to him but you also knew; through Chifuyu’s retelling; what happened on that horrible halloween when you lost your whole world.

Even when you knew that everything had been planned out by Kisaki, for the longest time you were resentful towards Kazutora, even going as far as to curse his sole existence because hadn’t it been for him then your Keisuke would surely still be with you. It took you years for you to come to terms with everything and accept that Baji chose to leave all because he cared about that boy way too much.

You came to realize that by hating Kazutora, by wishing him the worst and spending so much energy in resenting him you were betraying Kei’s wishes.

His final will was to keep Toman’s funding members; Kazutora included; safe, he chose death, going down as a villain to his friends, all just to protect them, to save him so the least you could do was carry on his wishes and look after them, not only after Chifuyu and the others but you also felt the moral obligation towards Keisuke, to welcome Kazutora and help him back into his life.

Now, you went to help around Chifuyu and Kazutora’s shop, fully aware that it was their way of honoring his memory, by living out the dream he never had the chance for.

You could understand them because everyday you did the same, hell, you even went to study veterinary because that had been the plan all those years back; he was supposed to open his pet shop and you were supposed to be the one to tend to the animals, he always said that you had the best shot because you usually did rather good at school.

You met Kazutora the day after Chifuyu picked him up from prison. You already knew that he would be joining you two for lunch the following day because he told you in advance in case you weren’t ready to meet the man that had played a big part in your old boyfriend’s death.

Chifuyu by that point had become your best friend in the world, your constant support. What started as a way to cope with Baji’s loss, as both of you searching in the other for any vestiges of his existence with the passing of the years turned into something more, a fraternal bond forged through shared grief.

Chifuyu was like a brother to you and you knew that he saw you as a sister, you cared about him deeply.

If you were being completely honest, you were a bit torn when a month prior to the release, he announced to you that he’d be picking up the guy and was planning on welcoming him as a roommate and as an extra hand at the shop; that is if the other accepted. I mean, you’d have to be crazy to just accept it as it was, no questions asked because whether manipulated and messed up in the head, it didn’t change the fact that he was the one to stab him.

Of course you knew it hadn’t been easy for him to reach that, it was obvious that he had thought it through, you could see in his eyes just how much went into making that decision but that he was sure that that was Baji would have liked and you knew that as well because that was the type of person Keisuke used to be, a bit rough on the edges but so caring and willing to give for those he loved, and he sure as hell had proven how much he cared about the guy.

You had never talked to him, what little you knew about him was what Baji had mentioned all those years back when he almost went to prison and what Chifuyu told you, how he was getting the help he needed and seemed to be making progress but that was it.

To say it was awkward at first was a big understatement. He was extremely quiet and even after you greeted him he refused to make eye contact while you kept fidgeting in place trying to come up with something to say. Thank god for Chifuyu since he was the one to introduce you although he could have been a bit more careful when he introduced you as Baji’s old girlfriend, although you couldn’t blame him because there was no way around it, that was what you were.

The moment he understood who you were he froze, eyes focusing on his hands under the table. You noticed how uneasy he became and with a look you asked Chifuyu to give you a minute, thankfully he understood and trusting you excused himself from the table.

You reached out, stilling your hand in the middle of the space between you when you saw him flinch, something that reminded you of the time when you encountered Leo for the first time; hurt and scared. Kazutora in a way resembled him, something lonely and broken about him that gave you the final push to get close.

Just like you did way back for Leo you extended your open hand towards him, facing upwards to show him that you had no ill intentions and you rested your hand on the table just a few centimeters away from his arm, not wanting to startle him but wanting to show him that you were trying to get close.

“I don’t hate you, Hanemiya-kun”

His gaze zeroed on your hand and then eyes of the color of the lightest brown you’ve ever seen; almost the same shade as amber; met yours wary and trembling but you simply nodded confirming that you were being completely honest.

“Why?” his voice came out broken.

“Because Keisuke cared about you” you smiled, feeling your eyes get watery and Kazutora’s face became blurry due to the tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I- I wish I could take it all back, I really do, I...” you heard the words come out cracked and you shook your head and reached for his arm.

“I know...it’s fine. Like I said, I don’t hate you, it’s been a while since that happened and I’ve made up my mind, I’ve already accepted it as part of life” that’s a lie and you know, you miss him every day so much that you still cling to the little things he left behind, that’s the reason why you haven’t been in a relationship after him.

You quickly wiped the tears out of your eyes and looked at him once more. “I’d like to be there for you, maybe be friends even, that is if you’d like that”

Kazutora’s mind was running laps. Was he hearing you correctly? Did you actually say that you wanted to be friends with him? Be friends with the guy that killed your boyfriend nonetheless. He couldn’t wrap his head around that thought, it was simply impossible, he was a villain, a rotten fruit that nobody had ever liked and that poisoned the only good things he had in his life, why would anyone want to be near him?

First there was Chifuyu; who for all he could gather used to consider Baji as his best friend; welcoming him into his apartment, offering him a place to stay and even a job no questions asked, that was already hard to understand, but now having you willing to welcome him? That was almost ridiculous because you surely knew, he saw the way you interacted with Chifuyu, there was no way in hell he didn’t tell you, so why?

Why were you being kind to him? So gentle? Why couldn’t you just scream and curse him? Heaven knows for how long he has been cursing himself, regretting everything he did, from Shinichiro to Baji. He deserved to be yelled at, to be shunned away from society, he was deserving of pain and should be tossed to the abyss of loneliness, forever in the dark, far away from the sun.

He couldn’t fathom why on God's name was Baji’s girlfriend in front of him extending her delicate hand towards him. But even when he couldn’t understand he wanted to accept it. He knew he deserved nothing given how he had taken two lives but he wanted the embrace so badly.

He wanted company, friends, he didn’t want to be forever an outcast due to his bad decisions but instead he wanted to belong, to feel some sort of comfort, he wanted to bask in the sun’s warmth and for once in a very long time feel a bit of peace, he wanted saving, someone to tell him he was worthy even when he knew he wasn’t.

He looked at you once more, and something felt warm inside his chest; even his throat tightening; when he saw that you were still smiling gently at him despite the rebel tears that had escaped from your eyes.

“I’d like that” he smiled wobbly. “Also, Kazutora is fine”

“Then let’s be friends, Kazutora-kun” your smile grew broader and that was the start.

Surprisingly after that, it didn’t take long for you to grow comfortable with each other. He was quiet and would often be found spacing off but he was considerate towards you, actually he returned the same kindness you gave him, although it was evident that he was still wary and a bit rough on the edges he tried hard and you could see, so whenever he was having a bad mood you tried not to take it personally.

Through gentle words and patience, you won him over, even those around you were surprised at how quickly he warmed up to you but there was just something in him that pulled you, maybe that same thing that pushed you to adopt Leo when you found him malnourished and hurt on your way home from the cemetery or maybe it was something else.

Just as he warmed up to you, you warmed up to him. It was easy to talk to him, he was always willing to lend you an attentive ear, listening to your ramblings about the monotonous things that happened at the clinic, it didn’t matter that he knew nothing about the people you mentioned, he always listened like it was the most important thing in the world.

At first your interactions were always in company of Chifuyu, mostly at the shop while you went to visit which actually ended in you helping around to organize the merchandise or on the usual checkups on the animals to ensure that they were in the utmost condition for the moment someone decided to welcome them into their home.

Then, Kazutora started to walk you to the station but slowly that turned into him accompanying you all the way home and since he was taking the time to go with you you started offering him a cup of tea at your house before he’d leave again to get back to his and Chifuyu’s place.

That wasn’t the end of it because one cup of tea turned into two, then three and finally what started as a thanks for the inconvenience turned into hours-long talks about the most menial things just because.

Your cats loved him; Blue was always rubbing himself against his legs while Leo wasted no time to go lay on his legs and with a meow demand to be petted at the moment; but the most amazing thing of all was that Jin didn’t hate him, in fact he got way too comfortable with him which was a thing that you’d never seen, the only other person besides yourself that he liked was Hina, hell, not even Chifuyu had been able to charm the bigger cat and now apparently he didn’t mind Kazutora trailing behind you when even up to that day whenever he was visiting Chifuyu would get a growl from Jin but not Kazutora.

He was nice to your babies, he liked them and you could see that he didn’t change his demeanour towards them even when he thought you weren’t looking, in fact his voice got softer when directed at them and you were also the kind of person that trusted animal’s perception so the fact that your beloved cats liked him really told you that he had changed from what little you knew about his ways before being sent to prison after Baji’s death.

Kazutora started noticing the little things about you, for starters the way you’d always be singing a random thing off tune but with such energy that it was amusing but when asked he’d swear on his life that he wasn’t bothered that he actually liked it even though you knew very well that you weren’t a good singer but the opposite yet there was something powerful about having him joining in the middle of your singing, even when he didn’t know the lyrics he’d be humming along.

You were a sight to behold for him because in all the mess of his life he had never encountered someone as lively as yourself. Even after losing Baji you tried your best, you were determined and hardworking and so kind, not only to him but to every living thing no matter if they were animals, people or even plants, you amazed him because you were always so willing to be gentle to anyone.

You were a soothing presence.

That was not to say you didn’t have your bad days, after all you were only human and it was simply impossible to be at one hundred percent everyday the whole day, but you pushed through and you were always quick to ask for forgiveness if you had an outburst towards someone, you were the kind to not withhold apologies even when you weren’t at fault. He could remember a handful of times in which you apologized when he was the one to step on your toes.

You, of all people apologized to him, a social reject, a vermin, you apologized to him as if he was worthy, as if that was the logical thing to do but he knew that no matter what you did he knew that he was the one that still owed you a lifetime of apologies.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew how much Baji meant to you even to that day, he noticed the little pieces of him lingering in your everyday, like how you always wore a hair tie around your wrist even when your hair was way too short for you to ever need it and whenever you had to get your bangs out of your face you used hair clips, never the tie on your wrist, the way you always cracked your knuckles as if getting ready for a fight even if you were only checking the animals and the way you carried yourself in a way resembled the way Baji used to.

He never told you but a few times he found you at the cemetery by coincidence while visiting Baji and there was something heartbreaking about seeing you kneeling on the ground with trembling shoulders despite it being a hot day. He regretted what he did, not only because he felt guilty or ‘cause he missed his friend but also for your sake because he wanted to see your happy smile, he never wanted to hear your cries ever again.

Just like him, you started seeking his company more and more, not only were you inviting him to stay and talk after walking you home but you made plans with him and just him, to go window shopping, for a cup of coffee, lunch dates, movie premieres; because you liked going to the movies so much and discovered that he was an enthusiast as much as you; movies on the couch, even just lazy sundays at your house playing the entire day with your cats.

Of course reaching this state was quick yet slow, it was hard to explain, like you were close to him and enjoyed his company, but it was different than it was with Hina or even Chifuyu yet you wouldn’t call it romantic, not at first.

Sure, there was something to Kazutora, you weren’t blind so you could see clear as day that he was rather handsome, probably one of the prettiest guys you’d ever met but there was something more, something that pulled you, something broken and lonely that tugged at your heart and told you to care for him.

At such a young age he had been to prison on two occasions and you could actually see that that was simply the tip of the iceberg. He had to mature too soon, he mentioned vaguely that his relation with his parents wasn’t the best and his eyes at times looked older than he actually was, plus it took a long time for him to get used to your affectionate ways because your love-language was physical touch. You had a special fascination with hair and all of your friends were used to that but Kazutora was like a kicked puppy that was only learning to trust in people once more.

You were a new breeze of air into his life, with your caring ways and funny nature he fell. For the first time in his life he had someone like you, at first it was difficult for him to realize that the fuzzy feeling inside his gut whenever he looked at you or even heard your voice meant what people called love but it was a given because he had never felt that way before.

For the longest time he felt like love was a lie, he remembered how bad his home life was, how strained and full of pain the things between his parents were, even now from time to time he had nightmares of his mother crying as his father hit her and then her begging him; only a child; to pick sides.

He wanted to hold you close, to keep you away from harm and to listen to your laugh for days on end, for once his heartbeat quickened for someone, he found a safe place in your presence, you were an oasis after years roaming the desert. You were such an unusual kind of certainty in his life that he never had but that he had searched for so long.

While Kazutora realized rather quickly; in comparison to you; that you had wormed your way into his heart making a home for you it took you around three years and others pointing it out for you to actually realize that he meant to you more than a friend.

The first one was your mother although not as subtly but rather by saying that she was happy that you were now with Kazutora which took you by surprise because you weren’t.

That wasn’t the end of it, but only the beginning.

The next one was Hina one day you were sleeping over at her house, but the cherry on top was Chifuyu.

“Hey, I know it’s not really my business, but when are you going to get together?” he asked one time when you went out for coffee.

“What?” you asked mindlessly, stirring some sugar into your beverage.

“Yeah, you’re kind of driving me crazy, it’s kind of annoying feeling like a third-wheel without actually being one, just get it over with” he spoke before taking a sip from his own cup.

“What?” you snapped your head back to him.

“Is that the only thing you’re gonna say?” he looked at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Yes, because I honestly don’t understand a single thing of what you’re saying” you shook your head and took a sip from your coffee.

“What I’m saying is that it’s obvious that you like Kazutora” he said matter-of-factly.

“Of course I like him, he’s my friend, I like you too”.

“No, you don’t, you like me as your friend but you like Kazutora in a different way, a lovey-dovey way” he deadpanned.

“No, Kei-” you began just like you did whenever your mother used to bring up your love life or thereof lack of it.

“Baji-san has been gone for years already” he cut you, wincing as he said that and to you his words felt like a slap across your face.

“Look, I know, trust me, I do, but it’s been long enough and if there is someone that makes you feel good you should go for it, he wouldn’t want you being unhappy for him” he sighed and with a hand pushed his hair back.

“He asked me to take care of you because he wanted you to be alright, he wanted you to be happy and he’d probably punch me if I simply stood by and watched you being miserable” he pushed his cup to the side, leaned over the table to grab you by the shoulders and looked into your eyes seriously.

“I know you like him, don’t be an idiot, it’s painfully obvious with how you look at him and spend almost all of your free time with him, Baji-san won’t be mad at you for finding someone new and I believe that he’d be happy that it is Kazutora of all people”.

Before you could respond to that, the sound of a new message cut you off and when you looked sideways to your phone on the table, a soft smile graced your lips when Kazutora’s name appeared on the screen. Without thinking you opened it and it was some random video of a kitten; somewhere along the way it became a thing between you and it reminded you of how Keisuke used to send you daily pictures of the cats that went to his house.

“It’s Kazutora, right?” Your face grew hot once you came back to reality, remembering suddenly with whom you were and what you were talking about.

“I’ll let you be, but don’t be an idiot and let yourself be happy” and just like that Chifuyu ended that conversation and quickly changed topics.

You knew you liked him, you felt warm whenever he was around you, his voice soothed you even on the worst of days and you looked forward to his messages. You had learned to find comfort in his eyes but they were a wrong shade; not brown enough.

He wasn’t Keisuke. He’d never be.

A few days later you found yourself in the shop, helping around but constantly sending glances in his direction, his back facing towards you, looking painfully similar to Kei’s even down to the hair length, although the color wasn’t the right match with it’s blonde streaks you could still fool yourself into thinking it was him.

But then he’d turn to look at you and send a smile your way and there would be a beauty mark under golden eyes and a tiger tattoo where it shouldn’t have been and that smile was lacking a pair of prominent incisives peeking through.

You knew it was wrong to look at him searching for Keisuke, searching for your lost love in another, clinging to the remnants of his passing through the world but you missed him so much.

At times you felt like you couldn’t even breathe, you had even fallen asleep in front of his family grave after a long day if you went to visit at dawn after not being able to make it at morning but you had to visit him daily in order to feel in his company because if you ever thought of skipping a lump appeared in your chest crushing your heart.

Yet, even then, even when you realized it wasn’t Baji your heart would skip a bit and your stomach would twist.

Later that night you found yourself walking home with Kazutora by your side in complete but comfortable silence, feeling the warmth oozing from his arm that was left hanging at his side lightly brushing against yours, rising even the tiniest hair of your arm.

Kazutora had been going at it over and over for months. At first, when he realized what he felt for you he decided to bury it deep and forever carry it in silence but as time went on he craved your presence.

He started wishing for more, more smiles, those smiles to be only for him, he even found himself looking forward to getting hurt while playing with your cats because it meant that you would be cleaning up his hands and putting on a band-aid with the utmost care and attention even if they were the most insignificant scratches ever.

He liked having your attention, he liked that you replied to any message from him almost immediately; unless you were attending to a patient then you’d reply as soon as possible; he also liked how your eyes would get bigger whenever something amazed you or if you found something even remotely cute.

Your constant ramblings plagued his mind at every hour no matter if he was asleep. Hell, he even went to Baji’s grave to ask for permission to love you, even if he did so in silence he felt like he owed that much to his old friend because you were his girl after all.

Why did it have to be you? Why Baji’s? Why did you have to come into his life and be like the sun? You were too much for him, too perfect, too good while he was nothing but a mess, too fucked up, too far away from repair. For fuck’s sake, he was the one that took your boyfriend away, he would have been better off handling your hate but instead you were there giving him so much it almost pained him, only adding up to his guilt.

This had to be some sick game of the universe. God must have been having the time of his life laughing at how the killer fell in love with the victim’s old love.

Before any of you knew, you had already gotten home and like it became custom you invited him inside for a cup of tea.

As soon as you opened the door, your three babies rushed to the entryway to greet you, Jin being the very first, you hadn’t taken two steps inside when he was already brushing himself against your legs. The other two weren’t too far but to your disappointment Leo approached Kazutora before even looking at you.

“I’ll stop bringing you here, you’re stealing them away from me” you pouted while kneeling down to hug Jin who looked at Kazutora with no distaste, then you picked up Blue and let him nuzzle your neck, after that still holding him you went to rub Leo with your free hand once he finally took notice of you and remembered who bought him food and toys.

Kazutora’s hearty laugh filled your ears pulling your mouth from the pout into a smile.

“Leo knows who’s the cool one” he winked your way. “I’m kidding, he likes you more” he looked down at said cat “right pal? Isn’t your mom the absolute best?”

“Oh, shut up, flattery won’t take you anywhere” You felt blood rushing to your face so you stood up hiding your reddening face into Blue’s fur.

You hurried to the kitchen and then, out of his sight was when you put Blue down and started to boil some water, hearing over it as the door closed and seconds later Kazutora appeared with the other two trailing behind.

You ended up splayed on the bigger couch in your living room, your back leaning against his side while Jin laid on top of your legs while in Kazutora’s rested the other two cats. At that moment you were with your eyes closed, mindlessly caressing Jin while you listened to Kazutora talk to your cats in a baby voice that you wouldn’t have expected from him the first time you met.

For him it wasn’t easy to keep his cool, he had to school his face even if you weren’t looking at him and oh, his heart was so loud it was about to jump out of his chest and he wouldn’t mind but he didn’t want you to listen.

I’m sorry Baji.

A meow of protest fell on deaf ears since he had stopped caressing Leo and Blue, instead turning his full attention towards you.

You turned your head and suddenly you found yourself way too close to his face; so much you could’ve counted every single of his lashes; staring up at a pair of golden eyes that were looking at you and only you as if you had been the one to hang up the stars in the sky.

His features were delicate, so beautiful it was heartstopping, he looked almost otherworldly; and not only because the ghost of Baji’s face lingered in his in a particular way; but there was a certain glimmer in his eyes that you had been noticing from a few days leading to that one, only that then it shined brighter than ever.

Unbeknownst to you, your eyes were reflecting Kazutora’s shine and your heart was beating to the same tempo as his starting up a melody of their own with your breathing getting caught up in your lungs making up the rhythm accompanying your song.

You were being drawn into each other like opposite poles of a magnet, barely any resistance was there and soon enough you met in the middle. At first it was the softest brush; like when you first dip your toe before jumping into the water; but it started a whole revolution inside both.

The brush became a second and then your lips were pressing against each other, basking in the warmth that radiated off that single contact that sparked a bunch of reactions at the same time. Your heart went off, your lungs closed; forgetting for that moment that they needed air and not that man to keep kissing you; and for the briefest moment your mind stopped thinking about Baji.

Kazutora was ready to die, if he was sent to hell at that very moment he’d be glad because at least he got a taste of heaven and it was more than enough. He decided then and there that he was bound to be cursed because how did a monster like him manage to get a kiss from an angel such as yourself? It must have been a sin for something so tainted to even look your way.

He didn’t know when your hand placed itself on the side of his neck but he knew that he was yours, if there was any doubt of that up until that point, it vanished with the way you were gently caressing his tattoo as if you were tracing it by memory, as if you had paid close attention to him, as if he mattered, as if he was something more than a broken thing.

Something inside you moved when a whimper escaped his lips the first time you pulled away for a mere second in order to get air before going in once more, this time ready to open your mouth and let him take while you explored. It felt nice, new; which was to be expected since the last time you had kissed someone this way had been with Baji.

Keisuke.

You opened your eyes and suddenly pulled away, almost as if his touch burned you; and in a way it could be said to be true; and your violent movement startled the three cats that you had ignored moments before, making them leave for your room.

The image of your beloved; death; boyfriend took Kazutora’s place, brown replaced gold and the beauty mark vanished, the yellow strands that framed his face turned jet black and the smile you’d been missing like crazy; that particularly his that showed his teeth was there.

You blinked a few times and his image left, allowing you to see Kazutora for who he was and not the ghost of him.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came to me” he looked at you with tears gathering in his eyes almost pleading and you realized how it must have looked to him.

“No, Tora, I-”

I’m an idiot, I blew this up. Again I’ve just gone and ruined what good I had.

“I’m going now” he stood up and left for the door, leaving you alone and cold on the couch.

I’m sorry Keisuke.

You stood up and went after, finding him in the doorway hastily putting on his shoes but you grasped his arm to stop him.

“I will leave right now, it’ll be like nothing happened” you caught a glimpse of a tear trailing down his cheek and that sight prompted you to speak.

“No” your other hand reached for the fabric of his shirt, securing him.

“Y/N”

“I don’t want you to leave, I-” the words choked you, there was too much you had to say and your mouth wasn’t responding as fast as you would’ve liked.

“Don’t ask me to stay because if you do it’ll only hurt more when you tell me it was a mistake”

“But it wasn’t a mistake, I want you, okay? Kazutora, I like you” you at least managed to say the one thing that was clear in your mind, that had been clear for a long time but only got accepted after that one conversation with Chifuyu.

That certainly stopped him, for he turned around to fully face you and you saw his eyes filled to the brim in tears that he refused to let run freely.

You reached for his face as slowly as the first time you two met, giving him enough space to retreat, but how could he when the thing he wanted most was to be with you and bask in the calm that your presence brought into his messy life? When he didn’t give any signs of pulling away you smiled and cupped his cheeks as if you were holding a piece of glass; and in a way Kazutora was just as fragile as that material when it came to you.

He leaned into your touch, and you were bold enough to pull him in and rest your foreheads together, looking with all seriousness into his eyes, having deja vu of the first day.

“Why? Why? I- what I did to Baji, you know what I’ve done, I don’t”

“I really can’t say, I just do, it’s, it’s hard, okay?” you closed your eyes for a brief second before continuing.

“I swore that there wouldn’t be anyone else and now, now you are here and I like being with you but I know that is way different from how it is with anyone else, it’s something more, something I never thought I’d be able to feel again”

He smiled through his tears because after all he’s done, every mistake in his life said that he didn’t deserve you and yet there you were.

“But I also have to be honest with you” he braced himself for what would be your next words.

“I still love Keisuke, I will probably still be loving him even fifty years from now and that is something that will never change, he was my first friend, first time holding hands, my first love, first kiss, many firsts, he took most of them” you gave out a wobbly smile.

“He’s forever imprinted in my skin and I’ll always be his” he lowered his gaze at that. “But if you can accept that I’m willing to try this, I never dated; not really, not an actual relationship; after him but I wouldn’t mind it being you, I think we deserve a chance”.

His heart was thumping inside his chest making it harder to process everything so you waited while his mind raced. Kazutora looked into your eyes and knew he had to take the chance because you were what he needed and even if he was undeserving you thought him worthy.

A selfish part of him, the bad side said that he should be glad because if Baji was there he knew you would have chosen him, a thousand times you’d have chosen Baji over Kazutora and that pained him but what pained him the most was the fact that a tiny part of him was happy because now he had the chance to be with you.

He was taking the life Baji should’ve had, but he’d take good care of you.

He could live being second best if that meant he got to have you.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo manji gang #tokyo revengers fanfiction #kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x you #kazutora x y/n #baji x reader #baji keisuke #fem reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #TR

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haikyuu-scenarios-drabbles · 3 years

Text

you weren’t supposed to hear that (F! reader)

A collection of instances where your roommate hears you moaning their name whilst your fingers are between your legs. Or your neighbor. Or maybe you walk in on them saying your name. Take your pick 😈

warnings: NSFW, manga spoilers (in terms of what the boys do post timeskip) words: 9.7k (oops)

a/n: wow it’s been awhile since I wrote one of these!! This has been half finished for a while and i finally got the inspiration to complete it. please enjoy!! 💖

Other parts: Kuroo | Sakusa

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Being Ushijima’s roommate is fairly simple. He’s easy to get along with once you get past his jarring frankness and strict regime. Seriously, the guy never changes his routine; working out at 6am, breakfast at 8, leaving for practice at 9, home at 5, dinner at 7, and in bed by 9 o’clock. He’s a machine, but you don’t mind his predictability. It certainly makes your life easier being able to plan around his tried-and-true schedule.

You saw his ad for a roommate a few months ago when you were desperate to get out of your parents’ house and into the world. They weren’t too keen on the idea of you living with a man, but upon meeting Ushijima, they changed their minds quickly. Neither of them able to believe that stoic Ushijima Wakatoshi would ever lay a hand on you. Plus, the deal was far too good to pass up, he is seriously underselling the room you’re currently renting; and there’s the bonus that he’s frequently absent at away games, leaving the entire apartment for you to enjoy alone.

You learned quickly to keep your mouth shut on who exactly your roommate is, never inviting anyone over anymore in fear of them finding out from the various volleyball paraphernalia Ushijima so sparsely decorates the apartment with. It became difficult for you to tell if people you just met actually liked you, or if they just wanted a glimpse of the infamous Ushijima Wakatoshi and maybe an autograph. And don’t even get you started on his fangirls that he’s so oblivious about.

To your surprise, he was indifferent about having a roommate of the opposite sex. You thought for sure he’d try to ‘keep your honor’ or some shit like that, but all he’d asked you was what your job was to make sure you can pay rent, if you were tidy, and if you didn’t mind being alone. He’d seemed satisfied with your answers, and you’d moved in the following week.

The first and only time Ushijima has someone over, you get home from work surprised to see an interesting looking character standing in the kitchen across from him. They both look up at you, Ushijima giving you a slight nod in greeting while a wide smile spreads across his friends’ face.

“Ushiwaka! You didn’t mention your roommate is that pretty!”

Ushijima blinks as if he’s never considered that about you before, while you chuckle. “Ushi…waka?” You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone refer to him in such a casual manner before.

The red-head beams, slinging an arm around Ushijima that he surprisingly allows. “Yup, me and Wakatoshi have been friends since high school!”

Now it’s your turn to blink, never having expected Ushijima to have friends outside of volleyball. Especially not ones who call him by his first name. In fact, you don’t even know if he considers any of his teammate’s friends either. He doesn’t spend any time with them outside of volleyball (that you know of) and so far, this is the first person he’s brought to the apartment since you moved in.

“Well,” the visitor nudges Ushijima in the side, who’s expression hasn’t changed throughout this entire interaction. “Are you going to introduce me or what?”

Finally, Ushijima speaks, his deep voice rumbling through your chest as he says, “This is Tendo, we played volleyball together in high school.” He doesn’t show it, but he notices your piqued interest at that information.

“Oh?” You say, “Do you still play?”

Tendo waves his hand dismissively, “Nah, it wasn’t for me. And I’m nothing compared to golden boy over here.”

You try to hide your amusement. This is definitely not what you were expecting from one of Ushijima’s friends. Tendo is rather enjoyable and chatty, much unlike the stone of a man sitting beside him.

“Tendo is a chocolatier in Paris,” Ushijima supplies.

Now you can’t hide your surprise. “Wow! That’s really amazing. What are you doing in Japan then?”

“Just visiting,” he beams. “And of course, I had to see my best friend Wakatoshi-kun.”

“Are you going to his game tomorrow?” You ask, ignoring the way Ushijima’s attention focuses on you. He didn’t think you paid much attention to his volleyball schedule besides when he’s going to be away.

Tendo nods excitedly. “Wouldn’t miss it! You should come too!”

You open your mouth to give some excuse, but then close it again at Tendo’s expectant expression. You bite your lip nervously; in the time you’ve been living with Ushijima you’ve never once actually seen him play. There’s a part of you that avoids it, fearful you might become one of his dreaded fangirls. But you can’t refuse Tendo’s invitation, and to Ushijima’s surprise, you agree to attend.

Clapping his hands together Tendo says, “We get to sit in Ushiwaka’s special seats! Maybe I’ll bring some chocolates for us to snack on…” And when he sees your eyes light up at that, he smiles again, “Chocolate for the lady, done.”

You laugh, and then Tendo is seeing himself out, telling you he can’t wait to see you both tomorrow. And once he’s gone, you can’t help feeling like you don’t know what to with yourself now. Not with Ushijima’s stare boring into your back. After a minute he says, “You don’t have to come.”

And if this had been the first week you’d known him, you might’ve taken that a little personally. But knowing him, he thinks he’s just stating something. He doesn’t see how it can be interpreted as him not wanting you there. “No, it sounds fun! And Tendo seems nice.”

“Tendo is very kind,” he states, and you have to resist the urge to chuckle at him. Ushijima is not a man of words and if that had come out of anyone else’s mouth you would’ve thought they were little strange. But in the months of living with him, despite your limited interactions, you’ve gotten used to his mannerisms.

Looking away from him, you start retreating down the hallway to the safety of your room, but before you disappear you say one more thing. “Plus, I’ve never seen you play.” Then you’re gone, not to be seen for the rest of the night. You don’t see him watch you until you’re out of sight. If you had, you would’ve been shocked by his dumbfounded expression at how the small smile you gave him made his heart stutter for a moment.

Ushijima has to leave much earlier than you do for the game, but he informs you that Tendo will be by to pick you up and go to the game together. Then, for the first time probably ever, he bids you goodbye and tells you he’ll see you afterwards.

Tendo comes by the apartment a few hours later, sporting an Ushijima jersey and a box of chocolates he asks to hide in your bag. For having just met him yesterday, he easily leads the conversation, asking you all sorts of things—though he seems particularly interested in your relationship with Ushijima. You try to assure him it’s nothing. Really, you aren’t even sure if you can consider Ushijima your friend. Right now, you’re pretty much strictly roommates and that’s it.

When you let it slip that you’ve never seen Ushijima play, Tendo is shocked. “Really? Not even on TV or anything?”

You shake your head. “Nope! I guess I never thought of it.” The lie slips through your teeth easily and Tendo doesn’t bat an eye at it.

Though he does grin telling you, “You’re in for a treat then! Have you ever watched volleyball at all?”

Your regretfully admit to him that no—you’ve never seen a game. You do vaguely remember the rules from high school, but they’re a bit fuzzy now. Tendo tells you not to worry and spends the rest of the train ride to the stadium filling you in on all the aspects of volleyball. And the more he talks, the more excited you get.

When you finally enter the stadium, Tendo is amusingly proud to show off your VIP tickets to be allowed entrance to the special seats reserved solely for Ushijima’s guests. To your delight, they’re some of the best seats in the house and you and Tendo get to work on the chocolates you snuck in while you wait for the game to start. Already the stadium is buzzing with excitement and you can feel your own continue to grow.

Meanwhile, Ushijima hasn’t said a word that he has visitors today. So, it comes as a complete surprise to his teammates when a chorus of cheers erupts from his seats when he enters the stadium. He doesn’t take note of how shocked his teammates are—he’s never had any spectators before. And none of them ever expected one of them to be a girl.

“So, who’re your friends?” Heiwajima asks during warm-ups, nudging Ushijima in the side and motioning his head towards you and Tendo.

“Isn’t that Tendo-san?” Kageyama notes, his own eyes up in the stands.

Without looking upwards, Ushijima replies, “It is.”

Heiwajima rolls his eyes. “Yeah, we aren’t so interested in him as we are the beauty sitting next to him.”

Now Ushijima lifts his attention, eyes drifting to you. He hasn’t told anyone on the team he has a roommate. Not because he has any reason to hide you, but there has never been a reason for him to bring you up. So, he doesn’t think much of it when he says, “That’s my roommate.” And then introduces you.

Everyone on the teams’ eyes nearly bug out of their heads at that information.

“Ushijima, you bastard!”

His brow furrows. Why is he a bastard? You’re just his roommate. And he never lied to anyone about you, nobody ever asked.

“Keeping that a secret from us this whole time!”

He ponders that. He wasn’t really trying to keep any secret. “It’s not a secret,” he says. “You never asked.”

The team guffaws at him and continues to grill him about you until Hirugami claps his hands and tells everyone to focus on the match. They’ll have plenty of time to discuss Ushijima’s secret roommate later. Again, Ushijima tries to explain it you were never a secret, but Hirugami brushes him off and tells him to start spiking warm-ups.

It isn’t hard for him to ignore you and Tendo during the game. He’s used to having nobody here for him, so he just treats it like any other day. It’s nothing special, he’ll play the way he usually does. Meanwhile, up in the stands, you can’t keep your eyes off him. You finally see why he works so hard, and maybe understand him a bit better.

He loves volleyball, you know that—but seeing him in action really drives it home. He’s a machine. Every time he serves or spikes you swear the other team’s arms are going to rip off from the force of the ball. And the sound that ricochets in the stadium when the ball connects solidly with the floor is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. It’s like a clap of thunder rattling your bones and before you know it, you’re cheering loudly alongside Tendo with no qualms.

It’s exciting being here. You can feel your heart racing in your chest each time the Adlers or the other team is at a critical point, and sometimes you catch yourself holding your breath in anticipation for the outcome. You never thought watching a sport could be so thrilling.

And Ushijima is incredible. You suspected as much, but actually watching him for the first time is something else. You can’t help gobbling up the sight of him, his powerful thighs thrusting him into the air when he jumps, his biceps on display when his hand connects with the ball—and above it all, that sharp look in his eyes that sends goosebumps prickling down your spine without your permission. If Tendo notices you shamelessly ogling your roommate at all, he doesn’t comment.

He's oblivious to the fact he’s actually playing a lot more intensely than he usually does. Which some of his teammates never imagined possible. And most of them, besides the clueless ones alongside Ushijima, have a pretty good idea what’s different about this game. Though they can’t pinpoint if it’s just a result of having spectators in general, or if it’s you specifically.

The Adlers come out victorious after four hard sets, winning the first and second, but then having to snag the win in the fourth. You watch as the team gets swarmed by reporters looking for a post-game interview and Tendo tugs on your arm telling you that Ushijima is going to meet you by the locker room. You must give him a surprised look because he holds up the card dangling around his neck with a grin. “VIP, remember?” You giggle and follow him out.

In the locker room, Heiwajima and others try desperately to invite him, you, and Tendo out with them after the game. But he has to decline, you three already have plans. And he doesn’t wait around to see their disappointed expressions as he heads out of the room to look for you and Tendo. He finds the two of you nearby and once you catch sight of him, a smile splits your face in two.

“That was amazing, Ushijima! I’ve never had so much fun watching a sport before!” You gush once he’s in earshot.

“Volleyball is very fun.” He nods as the three of you head towards the exit. Ushijima purposefully avoids the spots he knows he is likely to be ambushed by reporters or fans, opting for a back exit instead that he sometimes uses when he wants to make a quiet escape.

“I had no idea being left-handed was such an advantage! Tendo told me it really throws people off apparently.”

Tendo sneaks him a smile and then throws an arm around his shoulder. “So, where is the great Ushiwaka takin’ us for dinner?”

You end up at a nice restaurant not too far away, and of course Ushijima gets recognized a couple times being this close to the stadium. He politely agrees to autographs and declines photos, seemingly unaware to the fact they’re just taking them secretly when they return to their tables. And while you’re waiting for your food to arrive, you can’t seem to stop talking about volleyball. Admitting that you’ll probably watch a few more of his games from home now and even cover your face in embarrassment when Tendo suggests you get your own Ushijima jersey to wear in support.

It’s then that Ushijima realizes he very much enjoys listening to you talk about what you thought of volleyball. Though he does feel heat creeping up his neck at the thought of you wearing one of his jerseys. All the while, Tendo is sitting beside you smirking up a storm, and Ushijima can’t for the life of him place why.

After dinner, when you’re walking a bit ahead of them and out of earshot, Tendo nudges him playfully in the side. “She’s pretty great, right?”

He looks at your back, expression unchanging. “She’s a good roommate.”

Tendo groans dramatically. “No blockhead—like, she’s pretty great, if you know what I mean.”

He blinks. “Do you want to ask her out?” Tendo can’t help slapping himself on the forehead. Who was he to think that Ushijima has any idea you are available, and he has a very high chance with you?

“Not me,” Tendo spells out slowly. “You.”

“I don’t want to ask her out.”

Tendo’s thin brows lift. “Are you sure about that?”

Tendo doesn’t miss his slight hesitation before he says, “Yes.”

And he doesn’t—you’re his roommate, and a good one. He likes having you around, but not the way Tendo seems to think.

But Tendo isn’t convinced. “Okay~,” he sing-songs before skipping up to loop his arms through yours and make you laugh about something. Ushijima thinks about that for a few minutes, why doesn’t Tendo believe him?

When you first moved in, it took a few weeks to get accustomed to each other. But once you figured out his schedule it became a lot easier. You know exactly when to hide in your room if you want to avoid him and when to come out once he’s gone. After going to his volleyball game, you especially try to avoid him during the times he’s walking down the hallway towards the shower, damp with sweat from a workout. Your brain can’t seem to function seeing him slick with the shine of sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and a towel draped around his neck—it’s too much for you, as much as you hate to admit.

But one week, you swear he’s on a warpath to make you a stuttering, flustered mess. Despite knowing the fact you’re certain Ushijima has no clue he can have that effect on people, much less do it on purpose. But every single day he’s waltzing around the apartment without a shirt on and while he doesn’t seem to see the problem with it, you don’t think your heart can take it much more.

And it’s the final straw when you see him a few days later, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin as he saunters across the apartment from his home gym towards the bathroom in the hallway. All while you’re standing dumbfounded in the kitchen trying really hard not to get caught staring at his enormous biceps or the way the shine of sweat accentuates the dips of his abdomen. It’s in this moment you can truly understand why he has so many fans despite his rather stone-like demeanor.

“You have got to put a shirt on,” you blurt when he’s halfway across, knowing this will turn into some dangerous territory if he keeps walking around the apartment half-naked.

He stops in his tracks, his head cocking the only indication he’s confused by your statement. “I don’t want to wear a sweaty shirt,” he says by way of explanation. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered expression. “I might catch a cold.”

You resist the urge to groan and slap yourself on the forehead. “Fine, then I’m wearing whatever I want around the apartment,” you say, determined to make him realize why he can’t just walk around like that. Though knowing Ushijima, you’ll never get through that thick skull of his.

And as you suspect, he simply replies, “Alright.” Before disappearing into the hallway and the bathroom to take a shower.

You lower your forehead to rest it on the cool countertop, shaking your head at how dense he really is. And you’re beginning to realize you think it’s endearing. While his infuriatingly toned body may be a major perk, you’re starting to see that you like him too. Now you actually groan. You swore this would never happen—not with Ushijima at least. But here you are.

After that, you make a pointed effort to wear the shortest shorts you can possibly find whenever he’s around. And you purposefully pair them with an oversized shirt, so it doesn’t look like you’re wearing pants at all. But if it has any effect on Ushijima, you can’t tell. You can’t help cursing his dumb impassive expression every time you retreat to your room for the night. Seriously—is he swayed by anything ever?

However, Ushijima hardly knows what to do with himself the first time you strutted out like that. He might be dense, but he’s still only human. His eyes naturally span down the expanse of your exposed legs and he has to grip his water bottle like a vice in order to keep it from clattering into the sink when you rise to your tiptoes to grab something from the top shelf. Your shorts ride up even more, hugging the curves of your ass as you stick it out to balance yourself.

You let out a surprised sound when he appears behind you, easily picking up the thing you were vying for and handing it to you without so much as a word.

“I really need a stepstool or something, huh?” You joke, taking it from him gratefully and blissfully unaware he was just blatantly staring at your ass.

He doesn’t say anything, but the next week you find a small stepstool leaning against the cabinets for you.

Staring at your phone in your hands, you thank any god listening that you brought it with you. How stupid do you have to be to lock yourself out of your apartment when you’re taking the trash out? Sitting on the floor against your door, you lean your head back on it and let out an exasperated sigh. You already went down to the office for help, they called a locksmith, and they aren’t available until tonight. And by that time, Ushijima will be home from practice and you won’t need the service anyways.

You have several options here. You could call a friend and stay with them until Ushijima gets back from practice, but they all live too far to walk to, and you don’t have your wallet. You could hang out in the apartment buildings lobby until he gets home, but if your phone dies, you’re stuck with nothing to do and no way to contact anyone.

The last option is slowly beginning to seem like your only option: calling Ushijima at practice for help. Burying your face into your hands you groan—you really don’t want to do that. Plus, you doubt he’s going to answer his phone anyways. After you sit there for a few more minutes, you take a deep breath and steel your courage. Leaving a message is better than nothing.

Despite deciding to call him, you still stare at his contact for a few moments before finally pressing the ‘call’ button. It rings a few times, then unsurprisingly goes to voicemail. When it beeps for you to leave your message, you swallow your pride and say, “Hey Ushijima, I know you’re at practice, but I locked myself out of the apartment…and the locksmith can’t come until tonight. If you by any chance get a break, would you be able to let me back in? I’d really appreciate it…sorry for the inconvenience and disrupting practice!”

Then you hang up and slump against the door again. Might as well head down to the lobby to sit somewhere more comfortable than the hallway floor. You turn the brightness down on your phone to conserve battery and resist the urge to just sit in the lobby scrolling through social media to pass the time. If he by some stroke of luck calls you back, you want to make sure your phone isn’t dead.

“Hey Ushijima, your phone was ringing in the locker room while I was in the bathroom. It was your roommate~,” Heiwajima teases. Ushijima slowly looks past his shoulder back towards the locker room door—that’s odd. You’ve never called him before. “And she left a message!” He coos.

Before Heiwajima can make any more comments, Ushijima strides past him to check his phone. They’re taking a short break and he doesn’t see a problem with making sure everything is alright. You wouldn’t have called if it weren’t important. He doesn’t see the rest of the team share suggestive looks behind his back. Before you, Ushijima refused to check his phone during practice, no matter how many messages he had (which are few and far between but still).

Upon hearing your message, he calls you back immediately.

You’re shocked that he’s calling you back within a half hour of your call.

“Uh, hi,” you say upon answering the call. “Sorry for bothering you. I’m surprised you saw my message so fast.”

“Heiwajima heard my phone ringing while he was in the bathroom.”

“Lucky me,” you joke.

He gets straight to the point. “I’ll leave now.”

Your eyes widen. He’s going to leave practice right now to let you back in? “Oh—um, you don’t have to do that! I’m just waiting in the lobby; I can wait until you have a longer break or something!”

“I can come now,” he says plainly. Then he hangs up on you. You sit back in the chair you’re sitting in and huff out a breath speechless. Never once has Ushijima left practice early. And now he’s just dipping out without hesitation because you’re a major idiot? You can’t fathom it, and the little voice in the back of your head that’s been slowly falling for him is absolutely swooning at the thought.

When he enters the gym again, Heiwajima finds him immediately, while the other members of the team look curiously on as he asks, “So, what’d she want?” Immensely interested in the fact that judging from his sweatpants and jacket over his practice clothes, Ushijima looks like he’s about to leave.

“She’s locked out of the apartment,” Ushijima explains as he heads towards the door.

The team looks around at each other surprised. They don’t get another word in as Ushijima explains to the coach the situation and says he’ll be back in less than hour. Then he’s out the door and a few of them start chuckling to themselves, while the more clueless members wonder why in the world Ushijima would willingly leave.

The gym isn’t far from the apartment, so it’s not long until you see Ushijima step through the front doors and sweep his gaze across the lobby. You greet him right away and the two of you get in the elevator. The silence is unbearable for you—though you’re sure he’s completely fine with it.

When you reach the door and he lets you in, you finally say, “Thank you. You really didn’t have to leave practice though; I could have waited.”

You swear his eyes soften, but it might just be your eyes playing tricks on you. He appreciates that you are being considerate for his time, but he found he wasn’t keen on the thought of you being locked out. It didn’t sit right with him. Not when he’s only 20 minutes away. He’ll be back in under an hour, and that’s better than you just sitting out here for several hours.

He just nods his head and says, “I’ll come anytime.”

At those words, that voice inside your head becomes a pathetic puddle and it’s an effort to keep your knees underneath you.

He can’t explain the way his heart lifts at the smile you give him. Stepping backwards into the apartment, you say as you’re closing the door, “See you when you get home.”

Home.

He’s surprised how that word coming out of your mouth makes him feel.

Any feeling of domesticity is thrown out the window the morning you’re walking around the apartment in one of his sweatshirts he lent you a few weeks back when you were cold. He’s stops in his tracks in the hallway seeing you in the kitchen at the stove cooking breakfast, his sweatshirt too big for you covering your shorts and just brushing your bare thighs.

Without giving him the chance to quell it, against his will, his dick strains against the front of his sweatpants and he rushes out the door with barely a goodbye in hopes you don’t see it. It doesn’t even go away on the train on the way to the gym, no matter how hard he tries. His thoughts subconsciously drift to the sight of you and how soft your thighs looked. It’s shocking to him how much he liked seeing you in his clothes. It was the same sort of sensation he felt when Tendo suggested you get yourself an Ushijima jersey—only it’s a hundred times worse.

He tries to ignore it, walking into the locker room like nothing is wrong, stripping his sweatpants and jacket off and shoving them into his locker before he looks around and sees Heiwajima staring at him with raised eyebrows. Then his eyes pointedly look downwards before he lifts them to meet Ushijima’s again. “You wanna deal with that before practice?”

“It’s fine.” He’s sure it’ll go away once he starts warming up.

But then his thoughts drift to you warming up and stretching in his clothes. You bending over, his sweatshirt sliding up your chest, revealing more of your ass and thighs as you count to ten. And any sort of effort he’d put forth to settle down is destroyed as his shorts feel uncomfortably tight. What is going on with him? He hasn’t been able to stop thinking of you as of late, and it’s only been getting worse.

Heiwajima just starts laughing. “Seriously dude, nobody wants to look at that all day.” Then he motions his head in the direction of the showers.

Ushijima’s eyes widen, realizing just what he’s suggesting. He hesitates for a moment, but eventually concedes. He won’t be able to play like this. Nobody seems to care as Ushijima grabs his towel and heads off to the showers, despite feeling distraught about what he’s about to do. He’s never really been one for masturbating, so it surprises him how easy it is to let you in his sweatshirt come to mind as he wraps a hand around his cock. And he comes a lot faster than he expects too.

That’s the first time he jerks off to the thought of you. He tries to brush it off as a necessity for him in order to practice well that day, but it soon becomes a terrible habit he can’t stop. Especially when you keep doing things that make him uncomfortably hard. Like still wearing those tiny shorts around the apartment, doing yoga in the living room, showing him your Ushijima jersey you finally ordered online—seriously, never in his life did he think this would ever become a problem.

He hardly knows what do with himself at this new infatuation.

Recently, you’ve started going out on dates because you’re beginning to feel this strange tension between you and Ushijima, and you have no idea how to deal with it besides letting some other guy pound you into a mattress while you ashamedly picture it being Ushijima instead. One night, when you’re bidding him goodbye as you’re on your way out the door, he asks you, “Will you be home tonight?”

Your heart stutters a bit at that word. Home. And then you feel disgustingly guilty that he’s noticed you don’t usually come back after these dates. Meaning you think even he can put the dots together on what you’re doing.

But really, he’s asking because what you’re wearing is already making his pants feel tight and even though it makes him feel a little ashamed, he needs to get his frustration out somewhere that you’re out spending the night with other guys. It makes him feel incredibly jealous—an emotion he’s not used to yet.

“Probably not,” you tell him, swallowing your pride about it and shutting the door.

For the next couple of hours, he tries to resist the demon in his head telling him to go sprawl out on his bed and think about you with his hand wrapped around his cock. But even after he makes dinner, works out, and takes a cold shower; it’s still there nagging at the back of his head. And he knows it won’t go away until he’s coming into his hand with your name spilling from his lips. He resigns himself to this becoming something he does now and heads off to his bedroom to satiate himself.

Your date is terrible. He wasn’t like this when you met him at the coffee shop last week, but tonight he must be feeling extra lucky. Enough to let his cocky, asshole nature shine through and you find yourself forcibly smiling your way through dinner. It doesn’t help that all you can think about is a certain stone-faced, stoic, gentleman who’s just sitting there waiting for you at your apartment. And just the thought of letting this guy touch you tonight makes your skin crawl. So, once the dinner is over, you end the date short, blaming it on not feeling well. He looks pretty put out that he won’t be getting his dick wet tonight, but you’re not inclined to care very much.

Unsurprisingly, the apartment is dark when you return. Ushijima goes to bed promptly at 9 o’clock every night, so you weren’t expecting to find him awake. So, you’re stunned into silence when you hear sounds emitting from his room on your way to yours. It sounds like he’s…panting? Is he working out?

Your brow furrows and your curiosity gets the better of you. You know it’s wrong, and such an invasion of privacy, but you just can’t stop your fingers closing around his doorknob, turning it slowly to just get a tiny peek into his room.

Your heart comes to a jarring halt at the sight you stumble upon.

Never, in your entire life, did you think you’d catch Ushijima Wakatoshi masturbating.

It never even occurred to you that is something he might do, not really seeming the type to.

And holy shit—is it a sight.

Your mouth involuntarily dries up at his enormous hand wrapped around his equally massive cock, pumping it from base to tip as his hips work in unison with his hand. His hair is a bit damp, and fuck—his cloudy, lust-filled gaze is making heat pool in your core. Additionally, he’s completely and utterly naked. Who the hell jerks off totally naked is beyond you, but you aren’t complaining as you watch the way the muscles of his abdomen ripple with each movement of his hips and breath he takes.

You could probably stand here watching him do this forever if you’re being honest.

That is, until your name falls from his lips.

You swear the floor drops out from under you.

At first, you think he’s caught you. But you soon realize that is very much not the case. His hips start shuddering, his pace becoming erratic as he chases his orgasm and you’re suddenly struck by the thought of: you don’t want him to finish without you.

And before you can hesitate, you open his door fully and step into his bedroom.

His reaction is nothing like you imagined from someone who just got caught masturbating by their roommate who’s name not two seconds ago escaped his mouth. Anyone else would have yanked their hand away and scrambled to cover up. But not Ushijima.

To his credit, he does cover himself, but he does so in such a calm manner, you’re shocked. Plus, you can see he clearly still has his hand around his cock beneath the blanket. The two of you just look at each other for a few moments, and after what seems like eons of silence, he opens his mouth and says, “You said you weren’t going to be home.”

Your brows raise, amused he’s chosen that as his defense. “I think I said, ‘probably not’ actually.”

His expression doesn’t change as your gaze drifts downwards towards his impressive erection that somehow has not gone away despite that he’s lying there in all his naked glory caught red-handed.

You lick your lips subconsciously. “Can I help you?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Nor was he expecting the way his dick twitched in his grasp at your words. Or how heat is spreading across his entire body at the way you’re looking at him. Is he really going to let this happen? He’s pretty embarrassed you caught him, but you don’t seem phased at all. To him, you almost look…excited.

You don’t really wait for him to respond, taking the way he eyes you up hungrily as a yes, and stepping further into the room. Tentatively, you start lifting away the blanket he covered himself with, and he seems to be in a daze as you toss it aside, baring him for you to see. Glancing up at him, you see he’s breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide as he watches you—and while he may not be able to tell you with words how he feels, his body is telling you enough.

But you still want to make sure. Settling yourself between his thighs, you set a hand on each of them and squeeze lightly to get his attention. His olive gaze rises to meet yours and you ask, “Is this okay?”

Without hesitation, he replies, “Yes.”

And if you know Ushijima at all, he means what he says.

You get yourself a bit more comfortable between his legs, chastely kissing each of his thighs, finding it immensely ego boosting at the way they tremble at your touch. You make your way to the base of his cock and lick one stripe up to the tip. He groans quietly at the sensation, realizing his hand will never be enough again.

His fists curl into the sheets beneath him as you take his head into your mouth, and you fail to suppress the quiet groan that emits from you at how heavy he sits on your tongue. Your mind immediately wandering to what he might feel like inside you—if this goes that far, that is. His eyes haven’t left you, watching you intently as you take more of him into your mouth, the weight of his heady gaze making heat pool between your legs.

Steeling your confidence, you hold his stare as you take nearly all of him into your mouth and start bobbing along his length. A barely audible hiss escapes him, the muscles in his arms straining with how hard he’s fisting the sheets. Yet, you still have his rapt attention, and it makes you want to make him feel so good he has to close his eyes and lean his head back against his pillow.

The thought of having Ushijima Wakatoshi a puddle beneath you makes your thighs clench together. An action that surprisingly doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

In a matter of minutes, you’ve made him throw all qualms out the window and you soon get your wish of seeing him let go. His eyes close, head leaning back revealing the strong column of his neck, and his hips start to move in tandem with your bobbing motions. A guttural groan escapes him when you hollow out your cheeks, and the sound rumbles through you before adding to the growing ache between your legs.

You can’t imagine he’s even close to reaching the end of his stamina, but you are certainly losing patience. So, you pop off his cock, and start making the motions to undress so you can finally fulfill your fantasy of riding him.

He startles you by lifting himself to rest on his elbows, his deep voice filling the silence, “Wait.” You pause, your dress already halfway off. He sits up and pulls you into his lap, completely unbothered by the fact your clothed core is now sitting directly atop his prominent erection. “Let me,” he says so softly you think you might combust.

His hands replace yours, and he gingerly unzips the back of your dress and starts sliding it off your shoulders, each inch of newly exposed skin met by the soft press of his lips. You have no idea if he’s ever been with anyone before, but whatever he’s doing is making your insides scramble and burn. His movements are slow and meticulous, like he’s savoring each touch are you’re positively melting in his lap.

Eventually, you have to stand up to shimmy the dress down your legs, but he sits at the edge of the bed waiting patiently before his large hands rest at your hips and pull you back into his lap. Now you’re looking down at him, so you lean down and press your lips against his.

He’s somewhere else entirely—heaven, maybe, as you kiss him. Your lips are soft, body pliant and warm against his as his fingers dig into the plush skin of your hips. He groans involuntarily when your fingers slide into the hair at the base of his neck, tilting his head so you can kiss him even deeper. You’re pleasantly surprised when his tongue darts out questioningly and you happily open your mouth for him.

I’m doomed, you think as his tongue sweeps in at the same time he uses his hands at your waist to grind you down onto his hips. He feels absolutely huge beneath you, and you have no idea if he will even fucking fit inside you. “Fuck…Wakatoshi,” you breathe. His fingers grip a little harder at your voice saying his name like that, but you’re too dazed to notice what it does to him. You continue, “Fuck me, please.”

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, and for a moment you think he’s going to comply with your request. Instead, he murmurs, “Not yet.”

You almost pout, but then he’s unclasping your bra and lifting you to set you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste much time ridding you of your underwear next, and you have to resist the urge to cover yourself as he stares at you with a near predatory look in his eyes. “You’re perfect,” he says, clear as day and you feel heat course through your veins at his words.

He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world to him right now. The intensity of his wanton gaze making you squirm beneath it until he lays his body over yours, the comforting weight of him pressing against your skin as he takes your lips again. He elicits a moan from you, his fingers dancing along your sides and his tongue sweeping into your mouth, making you nothing more than a trembling mess underneath him.

His lips leave yours, but he slowly begins trailing kisses along your jaw, down your neck and across your collarbone; almost as if he’s worshipping every inch of your skin before he reaches your breasts. He takes both of them into his enormous hands, the callouses of his fingers scratching along the supple flesh, making your back arch into his touch. Pressing a chaste kiss to your sternum, he rolls your nipples between his fingers, all while keeping his steady gaze on you. And you have no idea how the simple action of him just teasing your nipples while pinning you with those olive eyes is so unbelievably erotic your head begins to feel light.

And then he takes one of them into his mouth and you about lose your goddamn mind. How the fuck does he know exactly what to do? In the time you’ve known him you’ve never once seen him be even remotely interested in anyone. But at this point, you’re well past the point of caring how he learned his way around a woman’s body.

His tongue laps at the pert bud, all while he keeps his meticulous pace on your other nipple before turning the attention of his mouth to it. Without thinking much of it, your fingers dive into his hair, curling into the strands as he continues his worshipping. Though it does pull a deep rumble of pleasure from his chest that goes straight between your legs.

“Wakatoshi,” you pant breathlessly, chest heaving, desperate for him to do something about the growing ache at the apex of your thighs.

This time, he seems to heed your words. He pops off your breast and wanders with his lips down the expanse of your stomach, his hands finding purchase at your hips as he settles himself between your thighs. Your thighs tremble in anticipation as he presses soft kisses to each of them, fingers kneading your hips and pulling you closer to his mouth.

Never in your life did you think you’d have Ushijima Wakatoshi between your legs, looking for all the world like he’s about to devour you.

He groans as he slides his tongue between your folds, drunk on how wet you already are. And despite the fact his cock is throbbing almost painfully and leaking on the sheets, he knows to take his time. If you want him to fuck you, he has to make sure you’re ready for him.

You throw your head back, fingers fisting into the sheets as a lewd moan escapes your throat that only makes him bury his face even deeper into you. His tongue finds the bundle of nerves at the apex and sweeps across it, moving in small circles that have you finding purchase in his hair to keep him there as you move your hips in unison with his tongue.

A loud gasp fills the air as one of his thick fingers enters you, the ministrations of his tongue not stopping as he slowly pumps it in and out of your core. He’s kept his attention on you this entire time, his gaze never wavering as he watches you fall apart at his mercy. And he finds he’s thoroughly pleased at how easily his finger slipped into you, enough that he tentatively prods another one at your entrance that after a moment slides in without any resistance.

It’s so satisfying that he buries his face even deeper, his tongue pressing harder against your clit as you fuck yourself on his fingers. At the sensation of his second finger, your own find purchase in his hair, babbling utter nonsense that if you were in a clearer state of mind you might be a little embarrassed about.

“Please,” you beg, desperate for his cock inside you, “fuck me Wakatoshi. I want you inside me.”

He nearly falls apart at your needy request, but he isn’t finished yet.

You continue to plead with him, until you abruptly feel the absence of his tongue and you look down to find him staring intensely at you. Your throat clams up at his smoldering gaze as he says simply, “You aren’t ready.”

Your mouth drops open as you blink in surprise. Is he joking? Are you not frantically fucking yourself on his fingers right now, desperately asking for him to be inside you? How can you possibly be anymore ‘ready’?

“What are you talking about?”

Now his eyes drop, and very quietly he murmurs, “I’ve been told I am…quite large.”

“By who?” You blurt.

All he says is, “Others.”

You decide to leave it at that, your attention traveling to his erect cock, it pulsing so hard you can almost see it and dripping from the tip. You swallow nervously trying to imagine that going inside you. Ushijima just watches you eye him, his two fingers still knuckle deep in you, which he seems to have forgotten about as he angles his head in question. “Do you want to keep going?”

Warmth blooms in your chest at his concern. “I would very much like to,” you reply, smiling innocently at him, despite the fact the position you’re in is very much the opposite of innocent.

And the answering small smile he gives you makes your stomach flutter. It��s so soft and dazzling, it nearly knocks all the breath out of you. He presses his lips to your inner thigh, smiling against your skin, and all you can do is stare in awe of him.

Then, as if remembering where is fingers still are, he drags them slowly out of you, his mouth latching on to your clit once again before sliding them easily back in. Soon, he’s got you writhing on his fingers once more, toes curling and your own fingers gripping onto his bicep you can feel flexing with each thrust of his hand.

He waits a bit longer, until his fingers are soaked with your wetness again, before tentatively prodding a third finger at your entrance. He stifles his groan against you when he finds that it slips in along with the others effortlessly. Particularly as the grip you have on his biceps tightens, nails digging into his skin and eyes flaring open at the new sensation.

“Fu—fuck,” you mewl, holding on to him for dear life as he continues his slow and methodical pace. At this point, you’re practically shoving yourself onto his fingers, wanting him to fuck you deeper and trying to match the pace at which his tongue is flicking against your clit. The sensation becomes overwhelming, your thighs starting to tremble with the effort to not come around his fingers and mouth.

“Wakatoshi, please—I’m going to—,” you try to warn him, nails digging so hard into his arms that you’re leaving small crescent indents in his skin. He doesn’t stop though, not until you’re practically sobbing, “Let me come on your cock, please.”

That seems to be his undoing. His fingers and mouth abruptly leave you, eliciting a small sound of discontent from you. But you quickly shut your mouth at the sight of him leaning over you, aligning his hips with yours, one massive hand palmed around his cock as he pushes forward.

When the head of his cock sinks into you, a strangled gasp rips from your throat at just how utterly massive he is. Instinctively, your fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him from going any deeper as you say, “Slow.”

His brow is furrowed in concentration, as if it’s taking all of his willpower to keep from snapping his hips forward and sinking to the hilt in you. “Of course,” he growls, his voice taking on a deep tone that makes your toes curl.

And inch by glorious inch, he pushes deeper into you. His forearms coming to rest on either side of your head as he takes your lips to distract you from him nearly splitting you wide open. You tug him closer, fingers tangling in his olive hair, slanting your mouth against his and slipping your tongue inside which he gladly allows.

Eventually, his hips meet yours, and he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours, his toned chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he has to take in order to keep his sanity. The feeling of your tight walls clamping down around him is enough to make him hiss through his teeth, “Shit.”

The word alone makes heat pool in your core. Ushijima Wakatoshi never swears.

“Holy fucking shit.” You correct him. He’s seated fully inside you and you’ve never felt so full in your entire life. Your legs splayed out to either side from just how big he is, and once glance down confirms his thick thighs are shaking with the effort to be gentle.

He just shakes his head at your crass words, then pulls out slightly before ramming his hips back into yours. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pull him close to you, your chest meeting his and his head finding the crook of your neck and he begins slowly. And while you’re very much enjoying each of his careful, deep thrusts, you very much would like to be pounded into his mattress. You’re certain he can.

You wonder if he’ll dirty talk with you.

Running your fingers through his dampening hair, you whisper against his ear, “You feel so good, Wakatoshi.” He merely responds with a kiss against your neck and a small approving growl that makes you keep going. “You know what I thought about anytime I was in someone else’s bed?” He makes no indication whether or not he likes you talking to him, so you press on. “This,” you murmur, “You.”

He stops, and for a second you think you’ve gone too far. But then he rises from your neck, and you swear to god—you almost come on the spot at the carnal glint gleaming in his eyes. Like he is about to utterly and completely destroy you. Your entire body buzzes with anticipation as he finally draws his cock almost all the way out of you before driving his hips home in a way that sends you into total euphoria.

His pace becomes brutal, his hips punishing, wordlessly making you realize it was a mistake for you to ever think anyone but him should be between your legs. It was pure luck you stumbled onto something you didn’t realize—he was immensely jealous every time you came home in the morning, clearly having spent the night with someone else.

It drives him so wild that he growls against your lips, “You’re mine.”

The words are so deliciously possessive, you can’t help the way your walls tighten around him, nor how your legs wrap around his waist and start helping him with each thrust of his hips.

“Yours,” you say, lips brushing against his. His hands wander down your sides, fingers digging into your hips pulling you even closer so that there is virtually no space between your bodies. He’s resting almost his entire weight on you, and his warmth and build is so strangely erotic, the coil in your stomach winds tighter and you can feel your impending orgasm begin to climb.

He cages you in his arms, hips never relenting, seemingly chasing his own release. His quiet grunts of pleasure are going straight between your legs, and you can’t help but start exploring the expanse of his exquisitely toned chest pulling an even deeper sigh from him making you almost melt on the spot. Your hands eventually find a place to rest in the dimples of his hips, relishing the sensation of his muscles moving beneath your fingers.

He refuses to finish before you, no matter how unbelievably tight you’re pulsating around him. So, he reaches between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, pride filling his chest at how you moan lewdly; your head falling back and fingers grappling even harder onto his hips. He takes the opportunity to press kisses to your throat, shoulders, collarbone—any expanse of skin he can get his mouth on.

“Fuck—yes,” you groan, hands leaving his hips to weave their way into his hair, using your legs to push him even deeper and meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You start quivering under him, your body preparing for the onslaught of pleasure rising in your chest, threatening to snap at any moment.

You come completely undone when Ushijima commands, “Come for me.”

Something about his husky, lust filled tone; his lips making their mark all over your skin, and the harsh thrust of his hips sends you over the edge. Your body bows off the bed, and Ushijima meets you, his arms wrapping around your middle to press you against his chest as his lips latch onto your neck and he buries himself to the hilt in your wet heat.

For the second time tonight, he curses quietly, holding you to him as your walls pulse with your orgasm and he finds his own release alongside you. You hold on to his shoulders for dear life as waves of pleasure roll through you, your body spasming in his grip all while he kisses you softly. It’s tender and erotic at the same time. As you start to calm down, he claims your lips, tongue sweeping in as you push his damp hair off his forehead before cupping his cheeks.

He pulls away from you, only to set his forehead against yours, your warm breath mingling. Both of your chests are still heaving, and although it’s silent, it’s comforting as he holds you.

After a moment, you open your eyes and find his closed, his lips curved into a barely noticeable smile. It fills your heart seeing him look so…content. “Wakatoshi?” You say quietly. His eyes open and your throat closes at just how handsome he is. “I…I like you.” Your eyes close now, embarrassed at how pathetic that sounded.

“I’d hope so.”

Your eyes burst open finding him looking at you comically seriously. You know he doesn’t mean it as a joke, but you can’t help the smile that rises to your lips. He gazes at you curiously as you ask, “And? Do you like me?” As if his softening dick isn’t still inside you right now.

Though, it still makes your heart flip when he replies without hesitation, “Yes.”

“Good.” You grin. “I’d hope so.”

You kiss him again before he finally pulls out of you and without a word, he gets off the bed and disappears out into the hallway. You grimace at the mess between your legs but are pleasantly surprised when he returns with a warm towel to clean yourself up with. While you deal with the mess, he rummages around in his drawers and at first you think he’s looking for clothes for himself, until he hands you a pair of his briefs and a t-shirt.

You must eye them curiously because he sets them on the bed saying, “Sleep with me.” He doesn’t word it like a question.

Taking the clothes, you smile teasingly up at him. “I just did.”

To nobody’s surprise, he’s relatively unfazed. “Overnight,” he explains further. “In my bed.” Though the light dusting of pink coloring his cheeks as he says this makes you want to smother him with kisses all over again.

You slip on his clothes and climb beneath the sheets as your response. You watch him dress, marveling over the muscles shifting in his back and arms until he covers them and joins you in the bed. He draws you close to his side, letting you run your fingers across his cheek before settling at his chin and pulling his lips to yours. You kiss lazily until you both grow tired and you tuck your head under his chin, letting his fingers intertwine with yours and enjoying the affectionate kiss he presses to the top of your head.

He surprises you when he says into the silence, “Are we going to do that again?”

The chuckle that escapes you is by no means meant to be mean. He just fucked you better than anyone in your entire life and if you were in deep shit falling for him before this—you’re doomed now. Yet, you don’t mind in the slightest. Not when being here in his arms feels exactly where you should be.

So, you kiss his neck and reply softly, “Yes.”

You don’t see his answering smile.

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hongism · 3 years

Text

1:58 am - c. jongho 18+

↣ pairing: jongho x fem!reader ↣ genre: fluff, smut ↣ wc: 2.0k ↣ for @ppersonna: “HELLO MY BESTIE RATTY PLS JONGHO WITH 25 - Being somewhere you’re not supposed to be 34 - “It’s 2am. Go back to sleep.” ↣ warnings: language, oral sex: f

In your defense, Jongho is both a maniac and insatiable. What started as a lovely movie night between the two of you, with his roommate Yeosang curled up in the armchair by the couch, has quickly devolved into leagues of stress for you and endless amusement for Jongho. Yeosang is (thankfully) off in dreamland and fast asleep despite the movie still going in the background, although that does nothing to quell your current nerves as Jongho’s hand is moving further up by the minute.

It started at your kneecap, two fingers tracing mindless patterns into your skin under the blanket. Then he slipped to the inside of your knee and clutched tight at your flesh before pulling up the inside of your thigh.

Now, he has a hand basically over your crotch, close enough to make you sweat but far enough away to have you refraining from squeezing your thighs shut over his fingers.

And being a cocky little shit, of course Jongho knows exactly what he’s doing to you — if the smirk curling over his lips is any indication at least. You aren’t about to scar yourself or Yeosang by fooling around on the already stained leather couch in their apartment, as much as you really want to give in to his lingering touches.

You haven’t been paying attention to the movie on the screen for at least an hour, maybe longer than that because you don’t even recall the name of the damn film at this point, and all your focus is honed in on the fingers pressing into your thigh. Jongho won’t stop teasing with his touches either. Every few seconds, he squeezes just enough to startle you into sitting up straight just when you’ve recovered from the last touch. You’re certain he’s trying to seem interested in the movie given the way he keeps making interested noises or scowling at the screen, but then his smirk returns and you know what he’s really up to.

In short, you have had more than enough of his fun and games, growing increasingly frustrated with each passing second. Your body is so pent up and overheated that sweat is pooling at your brow, and that’s what makes you nudge his hand away as a last-ditch effort to save yourself from this teasing hell he’s trapped you in. Yet this isn’t your apartment and you can’t very well escape to his bedroom without looking suspicious to Yeosang. As far as his roommate is concerned, you and Jongho are still just friends, even if there is an ungodly amount of sexual tension lingering between the two of you like this.

Water. Yes, you need water. And where can you get water? The kitchen of course. Perfect plan. You should be safe from Jongho’s antics there, no?

“Feeling alright, Y/n?”

As it turns out, you are very much not safe in the kitchen.

You nearly throw the glass in your hand at Jongho’s head out of sheer shock when he sneaks up on you, creeping into the kitchen behind you like a damn ghost. You manage to hold back from doing that, but a small yelp escapes your lips instead. Jongho laughs at that, continuing to chuckle under his breath even when you try to level him with a sharp glare. He has the audacity to look absolutely delectable at nearly two o’clock in the morning wearing nothing but a stupid black t-shirt and stupid grey sweatpants with his stupid hands shoved deep in the pockets like he wasn’t trying to practically finger you on the couch moments ago.

“I don’t know, am I?” It made sense in your head, although that might be because of the haze of arousal over your brain because once it actually comes out, you’re wondering why the hell you said that.

“Well, you felt more than alright just a few minutes ago.” He’s smiling again, another lascivious grin that has you sinking your teeth into your lower lip.

“Not here,” you hiss back as a last-ditch effort to talk yourself out of this (again).

“Because Yeosang is in the other room? Come on, Y/n, you know half the fun is in the risk of getting caught.”

A scoff passes through your lips, loud enough to resound through the small kitchen.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And you’re painfully aroused. Are we done stating the obvious?”

Throwing this glass at his head is a lot more tempting now, but that would certainly cause a ruckus and Yeosang would wake up in a heartbeat.

“Only because you were fucking feeling me up on the couch like it’s your goddamn job!”

Jongho crosses the kitchen in three seconds flat, suddenly so close to you that you can’t breathe your own air without feeling the heat of his breath against your lips. You stumble back and hit the edge of the counter behind you. Jongho doesn’t give you a moment to recover, catching your wrists in his grip and pressing them hard against the surface of that same counter.

“Careful there, doll, you wouldn’t want to wake anyone up, would you?”

“No, that’s not what I want,” you exhale. It’s not enough to quell the desire in your gut, especially not when Jongho’s fucking thigh is pressed between your legs and leaving you squirming. He knows how you feel about his thighs thanks to an unfortunate admission on your part one night when you had too much alcohol (and unfortunately Yeosang knows too since he was an unwilling participant in that conversation).

“What do you want then? Although, I’m fairly certain that I know.” Again, Jongho’s gaze flicks down over your body, enough to be obvious about the way he’s checking you out from head to toe, but he returns to staring you in the eye after a second.

“Shut up and eat me out already,” you hiss under your breath. In the same sentence, you free your wrists of his grasp and push down hard on his shoulders. It’s nothing compared to his strength — he’s more than strong enough to resist your futile efforts, but he goes along with it anyway and lets you push him to his knees in front of the counter.

“You’re lucky I never make you beg, baby. If I did, you’d never get to cum.”

Tempting, you think, but right now you aren’t in the mood to be edged or teased anymore. Jongho did his fair share of that for over two hours, so all that is on your mind is a release under his skilled tongue.

“Please, Jongho, I’d like to do this before Yeosang wakes up…”

His hands are already curled around your pajama shorts, taking the soft fabric into his grip and pulling down with no resistance. A sharp inhale follows as the cold air hits your nether regions, and Jongho lifts one of your legs up to his shoulder as he bunches your shorts into the palm of his hand.

“Be glad I didn’t take you on the couch right in front of him then.”

Then Jongho is smiling up at you from between your legs, and you would be lying if you said that isn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen in your life. You brace yourself on the counter, knuckles white from the effort of clinging to the marble, and the man beneath you takes his teasing a step further. Soft lips caress the inside of your knee over the spot he clung to for the better part of an hour, then he follows the same path his hand took as well. He doesn’t stop until his nose is flush with your folds, and even then he exhales against you in a way that has a chill rushing down your spine. Your curl away from the counter, unintentionally pressing your hips closer to his mouth in the same fluid motion. It’s enough to make his nose hit your clit dead-on in a way that has a strangled moan escaping your lips. You fling a hand up to your mouth (too late as it does absolutely nothing to conceal the sound).

“Now it sounds like you’re trying to wake Yeosang up, doll.”

“I’d like to see you stay quiet when I’m sucking you off next time.” You manage to smirk a little, just enough to be playful and throw him off a little. He’s just as quick to retaliate, which is both a good and bad thing for you because his next move is to hoist your other leg onto his shoulder, and it takes every ounce of your willpower not to clamp your thighs around his face. You have to bite the side of your thumb to quell the noises bubbling up your throat; your remark seems to have been enough to spur him fully into action, his tongue brushing between your folds until he reaches your hole with practiced ease. You can’t count on one hand how many times you’ve indulged in this — his tongue pressing at your entrance like he has no other purpose in life, eating you out with more enthusiasm than ever, drawing so many noises out of you that it’s getting difficult to keep quiet.

“Jongho?”

The man between your legs freezes but doesn’t move away from your cunt, staring up at you from between your legs without blinking for so long that you think he’s truly stuck like that. Admittedly, you’re stuck where you are too, both because he’s got your legs around his face and on account of Yeosang’s sudden intrusion on your otherwise intimate moment. Your gaze goes straight to the archway to the kitchen. The kitchen island is tall enough to block the view of your lower half, but if Yeosang steps even one more foot into the room, he will certainly see what Jongho is up to. There’s no telling how long it’ll be before he does enter, and you’re watching with peaked anxiety as Jongho sidles up your body into a standing position again.

His hands find your hips, and next thing you know, he’s moving you around and pushing you until your back hits the kitchen island. It protects you from possible exposure to Yeosang, which proves to be a good move on his part because Yeosang pokes his head in the archway a second later. Jongho moves to the side enough to avoid suspicion but you’re still quite nude from the waist down and screwed if Yeosang decides to come further in.

“Oh, there you two are. The movie’s over?” Yeosang says, easing his weight against the doorframe.

“Yeah, you fell asleep pretty early on honestly. But it’s 2 am. Go back to sleep. We’re just picking up some snacks we pulled out while you were asleep.”

You think that excuse is far too easy to see through, especially if Yeosang decides to even so much as glance around the kitchen to see that you are certainly not doing any cleaning whatsoever. You squeeze your eyes shut. Looking at Yeosang right now would be a mistake and you would probably give away what you and Jongho have been up to in the blink of an eye.

“Yeah, yeah, okay. I’m too sleepy to help you anyway. See you in the morning.” Yeosang stifles a yawn, lifting the back of his hand to his mouth, then lets his arms fall into a stretch. He lingers for only one more second before disappearing from the archway. You exhale the second he disappears, shifting to stare Jongho down as your heart continues to race rampantly in your chest without relent.

“That was a fucking mood killer,” you mutter before crossing your arms over your chest. Jongho huffs out a sigh and puffs his cheeks full of air. He stretches a hand out to touch your bare hip again.

“Let me make it up to you?”

#atzinc #kwritersworldnet #kdiarynet #jongho smut #ateez smut #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #ateez timestamp #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez drabble #caly.writes #hahahah hell yeah new tag #jongho drabble #jongho scenario #jongho timestamp

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hunflowers · 3 years

Text

okay inspired by dwd suit wearing harry :) enjoy *nose boops*

You haven’t seen Harry in a couple months now. At least not physically, what with guidelines for his new movie and the restrictions of quarantine in general.

Whenever his name does pop up on your phone you can’t hide the smile that breaks out onto your face, especially when it’s a facetime call so you can see him in real time. This day however was a little different. He texted you bright and early -- at least for him because of the time difference -- saying he won’t be able to talk much because a busy day lies ahead of him. A frown nestled into your features at the misfortune, but you replied back with understanding.

It came as a surprise a couple hours later though, when he texted you a picture of himself in a full body mirror, adorned in a caribbean blue suit and a matching striped tie, with the message of Do you like it?

Your mouth dropped at the sight, and you’re pretty sure a bit of saliva slipped past your lips too. His hair was parted in meticulous manner that truly gave him the proper 50s vibe, and his clean shaven face was the true cherry on top that had your heart beating in your chest. You wanted to pull him close, preferably by the tie around his neck, and plaster lipstick stains across his jaw while carding your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you rocked your hips together.

You had to close your legs at the wormhole your brain was going into, biting your lip into your mouth as you wished he were next to you. I like it a lot :(

Why the sad face?

Because I want to rip it off of you.

You giggled as you saw the daunting three dots appear then disappear a few times, before he replied with a quick Don’t start. He’s at work, so it’s selfish to rile him up especially when it seems he’s about to shoot his next scene, but you couldn’t stop the wink face you sent back along with:

Can’t stop thinking of me on my knees for you.

Wouldn’t you like that?

Unbuttoning your pants and pulling the zipper down with my teeth just like you taught? Leaving the whole suit on as you fuck my mouth?

Hearing me gagging for you, choking on you as I feel you down my throat.

As much as you think you’re making him suffer, you’ve punished yourself just as badly. You were mindlessly watching your current TV fixation, sipping on a glass of wine, but now all you could think about was him and how he wasn’t by your side to help you out.

When Harry hadn’t responded for a couple minutes, you had half the mind to shove your hand in your panties and finish the job, and you were about to do it too, but you heard the familiar text tone. You pulled your phone close to you and read his daring message, causing you to bite your lip back into your mouth.

We’ll finish this later.

But then about an hour or so later you got another text from him, this time a picture of him in a brown suit with another tie to match. He said nothing aside from a teasing smiley face, because he knew the game he was playing. The brown one brought out the color of his eyes more, making you ogle just a little harder than the first, and making you crave him even more.

So, you got up from your spot on the couch and marched up to your room to find something to send back. You searched high and low for something worth your time until you finally found a time-piece. A light blue, see-through babydoll dress that you hadn’t worn since your first anniversary together. It came with a matching light blue thong and lace collar piece that you remember Harry practically frothing over the sight.

You quickly changed into it, and pulled your hair back before stepping closer to the full-length mirror in your closet. You angled yourself in a desirable way, and even brought your free hand’s thumb up to your mouth and nibbled on the tip of it as you snapped the picture. Satisfied with the photo on the fourth try, you sent it with a taunting caption of a typed heart.

He opened your message almost instantaneously, but had left you on read which caused your heart to sink a bit in your chest. But, you attributed it to him being called to set and picked your chin up and waltzed back downstairs in your new attire. You picked up your wine glass and continued with your show, simply waiting.

As time ticked on and your body grew sleepier, you were tempted to call it a night and text him saying you would continue this — whatever this is — tomorrow. But you kept your determination, because you missed your boyfriend and even if he couldn’t touch you, you knew he was going to make you cum. And besides, just when you started doubting him, that’s when he decided to ring you.

You picked up the phone giddily, the connecting ... under his name taunting you before his beautiful face popped up on your screen. You were ready to chirp a greeting at him, excited to talk to him after a long day but he was quicker to the punch.

“Y/N... y’had to send that while I’m working, did ya? Fuck, babe, do you understand how difficult it was to focus on set with that at the back of m’mind?” He ran his ring-less fingers through his shorter hair, and you noticed he was back in his hotel room. That’s a good thing, you thought, now you had no restrictions.

You pouted at him mockingly, “Oh no, you poor thing.”

He blinked at you once, then twice, before stating, “Get up. Let me see you.”

Because you were still downstairs, you trekked back up to your room, going over to the original mirror you took the photo in before flipping the camera around and showcasing yourself. You toyed with the hem of the dress, picking it a bit to give him a better viewing of your panties, to which he groaned in response.

“I’ve missed that little number. Remember the night you wore it? Could hardly walk for days after.”

You let out a breath at the thought, bringing your hand down and slightly grazing your throbbing clit for him to see, just at the mere thought.

He continued, “But that’s why you put it on isn’t it? Because you know it’s my favorite and I’m not there to put my hands on you. You wanted to get back at me for the pictures I sent — which, hardly even compare.”

You nodded your head in response, flipping the camera back around to face you as you stepped out of the closet and onto your bed. “Want you to miss me just as much as I miss you.”

“Oh, baby.... Words can’t describe how much I miss you. Look, I’ll show you how much I miss you,” and then the next thing you know, is he’s flipping the camera around and showing you his very hard cock.

You couldn’t help but moan at the sight, your free hand dipping into your baby blue thong and swiping your dripping folds and circling your wetness across your clit. “Show me how much you miss me too.”

You flipped your camera back around, letting him see your fingers slowly working your clit, hidden beneath the fabric of your panties. He groaned, telling you to give him a closer look, so — as comfortably as you could — you pushed your thong to the side and angled your phone so he had a better view of your soaked pussy.

“Shit Y/N– Push two fingers inside, imagine it’s me doing it,” he told, and you could see his fist beginning to pump his cock at a faster rate, him most likely imagining your smaller hand stroking him just like you usually do. You listened to him, inserting your ring and middle finger inside your wet hole, while keeping the heel of your palm pressed against your sensitive bud.

“Baby... I need you so bad,” you whined, softly hitting your front wall as you curled your fingers, before fastening your movements — like you know he would.

You watched him spread his precum around his shaft, paying extra attention to his tip before he thrusted his hips up into hand. “Ugh- I know baby, I need you too. Just a little while longer. Fuck yourself for me, y’can do that can’t you?”

You hummed back, picking up the pace of your hand, going the extra mile and pushing a third finger inside, causing you to screw your eyes shut in ecstasy.

“Wish it was you fucking me right now. Your big cock inside my tight pussy - shit - you fill me so good.”

You heard him groan at your words, mumbling a quiet ‘keep going,’ because he’s always been a fan of your dirty talk.

“Want your hand around my throat... squeezing me as I squeeze you. Wish you were hitting the spot only you could reach. God, want to feel me stretched around you, leaving me sore for days after you’re done. Do you want that too?” You felt the heat in the pit of your belly begin to stir, your palm pressing harder against your sensitivity.

“Could imagine your face pressed into the mattress as I take you from behind. Your tits in my hands — I miss them. Want m’mouth sucking on you... can’t cum yet, don’t even think about it, Y/N.”

You whined at the restriction, feeling your impending high reaching you. So, you helped him to his quicker. “H, H, H... miss having my lips around you. Love when you mess up my lipstick and it’s smeared all around you, mixed with saliva and cum. Never forget about your balls either, I kiss ‘em and suck on them, give them just the right amount of attention. Know you love when I press my finger into you too, hearing you moan until you’re coming down my throat.”

Back and forth for a few moments all you both could do was moan, wishing the other were by your side as you sent yourself into euphoric oblivion.

“Can I cum now? Please, please,” you begged, rubbing fast circles on your clit.

“So close, babe, so – holy fuck — so close,” he murmured, twisting his wrist and keeping more of his focus on the base of dick now. “G’na cum with me?”

You whispered a ‘yes’ in response, your thighs beginning to shake as your toes curled into the bed sheets. Within seconds, hot lava coursed through your body as flashes of white danced across your eyes, you back arching off the mattress. You could hear Harry hitting his climax, your eyes opening quickly to watch him spray his orgasm all over his fist and stomach.

You nestled your head into your pillow as you brought the phone back up to your face, your eyes falling close as you let your body relax. Harry turned the camera back to him, getting up from his position to wash himself. You would get up eventually too, but you just laid and calmed yourself in the mean time as you watched him.

“Miss you,” you mumbled, tears threatening to break past your waterline as you wished you could snuggle up to him.

He looked at you, his mouth forming into a pout as you could hear the sink water running from the bathroom. “I know. Just a few more weeks and I’ll be home.”

#i’m back b-words #jk this is it until school is over #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles filth #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles

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poguesofthebau · 3 years

Text

paranoia

summary: meeting dylan einstein, a genius forensic scientist from indianapolis, musters up some unknown insecurities about your relationship with reid. however, morgan-- and reid, once he figures it out-- isn’t willing to let you think that way. warnings: mentions of bombings (as pertaining to the case)

word count: 3k pairing: spencer reid x female!bau!reader

a/n: set in season 10, episode 14, this one was requested by @koc-help! as per usual, it took me forever to write, so i hope you can forgive me for that and enjoy what i came up with!!

bombing cases were stressful. it always seemed harder for you; figuring out a motive, pushing down the overwhelming sympathy for the victims, convincing yourself that all of your team members were safe. because of your unshakable paranoia in the wake of those cases, you were already on edge by the time the team was boarding the jet to indianapolis. and, of course, spencer caught on to the way you were feeling almost immediately.

with the limited information the team had at that point, conversation about the case was reasonably brief. the file was reviewed and discussed, and hotch delegated a role for everyone to take when the jet landed. when the conversation came to a lull, you slid out of your seat, tossing the manilla folder onto the leather before moving to the back of the jet to make a cup of coffee. jj and derek’s voices were audible as they continued to spitball off of each other, masking the sound of spencer approaching where you stood. “hey,” he called to you as he neared. having been enveloped in the chatter your other friends were creating, you jumped at the sound of your boyfriend’s voice. when you looked up at him, his eyebrows were raised in concern at your reaction, immediately making you recoil into yourself. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you breathed, pulling the coffee pot out of its place to pour the liquid into your empty cup. “i’m fine.”

“that’s not very convincing, you know.” you turned to face him then, sighing and internally shaking the dread away. “what is it?”

“i’m not a huge fan of bombings,” you said sarcastically. spencer scoffed a laugh at that, reaching out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear as you continued with a bit more seriousness. “just a little worried. it’s nothing, spence.”

“i’m not used to seeing you worried in this way. are you sure you’re okay? i mean, do you want to talk about it?”

the soft-spoken concern in spencer’s tone along with the expression he was looking at you with warmed your heart. if there was one thing that could take your mind off of a murderous bomber, it was spencer. your eyes flickered over to the rest of the team, making sure no one was paying any attention to you and your boyfriend huddled up in the back of the jet, before you leaned up and pressed your mouth to spencer’s. the kiss was quick, but it was also just the reassurance that you both needed. “i promise, i’ll tell you if i need to talk. for now, i just want to get this son of a bitch and go back home.”

being present for the disarming of the second bomb only worsened your initial paranoia. the thought of an explosive device made you anxious enough; having to stand your ground and comfort an intended victim while a bomb was armed less than a foot from you was a whole new feeling. you trusted morgan to clip a wire without killing you, but the adrenaline in the heat of the moment was hard to shake. it had been a few hours since the scene had unfolded, but you still felt like your heart could possibly jump out of your chest at any moment the morning after the disarming. despite the underlying terror running through your veins, you were critically analyzing everything going on around you. your focus was completely dedicated to the case unfolding around you, because the sooner you cracked it, the sooner your thinly veiled fear would dissipate.

you were digging around in the bed of the pickup truck while einstein, the local forensic scientist, examined the bomb itself. out of your peripherals you saw reid and morgan approaching, but the bulk of your energy was going into analyzing the scene as best you could. your boyfriend’s eyes lingered on you for a few seconds as he neared, immediately gauging the nerves you were trying so hard to conceal. reid made a mental note to address that as soon as he could get you alone, but fought the urge to do so right then. spencer knew you well enough to know that, no matter how freaked out you currently were, your mind was concentrating on the scene before you, and anything else would simply be considered a distraction. he swallowed down the lump in his throat that formed at the thought of not being able to help you before tuning in to the comment einstein began to make. “he really went for a bigger boom this time.”

the short conversation that ensued between the two following that comment was something that shouldn’t have bothered you. you knew it meant nothing; reid wasn’t the only genius in the world who memorized excerpts from anarchy cookbooks or mathematical theories. just because some young, brilliant, beautiful girl knew the same book as spencer didn’t mean you had anything to worry about.

nonetheless, you became very worried about it.

you strolled around to the passenger side of the truck, sliding into the empty seat with a quizzical look on your face. “you know, it’s a wonder that he even realized he triggered the bomb.”

opening the driver’s side door as he spoke, reid slid into the truck next to you. “maybe he heard something when he stepped on the pedal.”

“and knew not to move? i mean, what’s this guy got, an ex-paramilitary background we don’t know about?”

the back and forth continued a few more times, and within a minute you and reid had developed the idea that allen archer, the bomb’s target, could potentially be your unsub. upon this conclusion, einstein spoke up again. “that’s what you guys do. you just talk a lot.” her voice was joking as the words left her lips, and a bright smile graced her face as she spoke. regardless of the playful tone you immediately identified, the words triggered something in you.

“well, there’s also a lot of kicking down doors involved,” morgan interjected from outside the passenger door, shaking you out of your internally-mortified state. you watched as einstein announced her departure then, mustering up a measly close-lipped smile in return to the courteous and friendly glance she offered you before leaving.

as she walked away, her words repeated in your mind. it was so simple for her to summarize; you just talk a lot. a woman so young and so intelligent had just condensed your entire career into a five-word sentence so simple that you couldn’t even disagree. was that truly all you were capable of? talking? bouncing ideas off of your coworkers’ ideas and hoping you’d end up catching the killer that way?

you spent the rest of the day arguing with yourself. in all honesty, your own inner monologue was starting to get on your nerves. despite your most sincere attempts to focus on the case in front of you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that einstein was right. and maybe she was-- maybe your job was nothing compared to hers, and maybe she was a better match for spencer than you could ever dream of being.

this new uncertainty of your career and relationship definitely didn’t help to settle your previously established fear of being blown up at any given moment.

given the circumstances, it was only a matter of time until someone on your team noticed how uneasy you were steadily growing. they knew you. you were y/n-- sometimes stubborn, oftentimes overprotective, and always capable. sure, you had off days at work, just like everyone else. you weren’t always the one to solve the case, but you were always present and attentive, engaged in the investigation with your mind and body. however, right now, your mind was in two places at once. for that reason, you weren’t surprised in the slightest when morgan approached you at the station.

as you walked toward the conference room to find hotch, you were stopped by the familiar voice calling out. “hey, hold on little lady.”

“what’s up, morgan?”

morgan shook his head at that, a knowing look crossing his features as he began to speak. “nuh-uh. what up with you, y/l/n?” you threw him a falsely quizzical look, trying (and failing) to get him off your back by playing dumb. sadly for you, morgan was too good of a profiler and friend to fall for it. “don’t play with me, girl. i know cases like this always get to you a little, but i also know how badass you are. normally you would’ve bounced back from our brush with death by now, so what’s the problem?”

you squinted at him as your face morphed into dismay. of course you couldn’t fool morgan. your mind flickered to penelope, suddenly relating to one of her more commonly made complaints: damn profilers. “my first problem is that you might know me a little too well.” derek scoffed at that, waiting for you to continue. “my second problem? well, my second problem might be that i’m not smart enough, or maybe that spencer is too good for me, or maybe that our job is too easy, or maybe--”

“woah, woah, woah. slow your roll, little missy. ‘spencer is too good for me?’ where’s that coming from?” you blinked slowly in response, not quite willing to give up any more information than you already had. “fine-- i’ll figure it out myself. let’s see: you’ve been acting weird since we got this case, but that’s not what this is about. i’ve seen you on bombing cases before, and this ain’t that. so... oh, i know. is this about a forensic scientist, maybe? maybe one who has the same name as a very smart, very famous--”

“okay, morgan. i get it. you’re a great profiler, and you know my thoughts better than i do. that doesn’t really change the way i’m feeling right now.” your tone was a little sharp, but the look in your eyes was a mixture of sadness and contempt. “and, in case you needed me to put it simply, i’m feeling like shit.”

a look of pity overtook morgan for a moment. he knew what you were going through. sure, he wasn’t dating a genius with an iq of 187, but he knew how it felt to doubt yourself, and especially how it felt to feel belittled for your work. “y/n,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching a little to get on eye-level with you. “don’t do that to yourself, kid. don’t forget how hard what we do is, and how important it is. you save lives every day. no matter how you do it, or how much brainpower it takes, there are people all around this world who are alive because of your work. whether they admit it or not, everyone has respect for that. especially our resident pretty boy.”

“i know, morgan,” you sighed. his hands slid from your shoulders as you finally gave in, looking him straight in the eye as you spoke. “sometimes it just feels like he deserves better.”

“just because it feels that way doesn’t mean it’s true. and i can promise you, reid has never felt that way. not about you.” after giving a comforting pat on the arm to go along with his final words, morgan was walking away.

damn profilers, you thought again. why are we always right?

before you got the chance to speak with reid, the team was off again. instead of splitting up this time, you were simply spreading out; hotch and rossi were scouring the crowd of civilians and news crews at the staged ceremony for allen archer, and the rest of you were divided into two suvs with morgan and kate in one and you, jj, and spencer in the other. your talk with morgan had lifted your spirits a bit, but there was still a tightness in the air as you sat beside your seemingly clueless boyfriend.

unbeknownst to you, spencer wasn’t all that clueless. not only had he caught on to your behavior long before anyone else on the team, but he’d also spotted you and morgan’s secretive moment from across the police station. (and, yes, morgan may have whispered “check on your girl” to spencer when you weren’t paying attention. he just wanted to help.) so, while you thought he was in the dark about your current insecurities, reid was very much aware of what was going on in your head. as much as he hated it, though, he was hesitant to acknowledge it with jj in the backseat and the rest of the team on comms. so, like the considerate boyfriend he was, he waited.

it wasn’t until you got back to the police station that spencer got the chance to catch you alone. everyone else was busy preparing to leave for the jet, the bustle of having solved yet another case causing an uplifting distraction for the team. while your friends were distracted, spencer grabbed you by the hand and pulled you into a nearby empty conference room. the surprise on your face was evident when he looked at you, and he couldn’t help but smile. you laughed nervously at his expression, not completely sure what he had taken you aside for. “hi, spence. you okay?”

“i was actually going to ask you the same thing,” he admitted. “except, i already asked you that once during this case, and you weren’t very willing to share, so i was going to approach it in a more insistent way.” although you were amused by this mysterious behavior of his, you were still confused about what exactly spencer was implying that he knew. “did you really think i wouldn’t notice that you were upset?”

“no,” you said unconvincingly.

“y/n, why won’t you just talk to me?” the desperation in his voice almost shattered your heart. the whole time that you’d been in your own head, spencer had been in his. all because you were scared to talk to the one person you trusted more than anyone in the world.

“i’m sorry,” you breathed, taking a step toward him. spencer’s right hand slid around your waist once you got close enough, and your forehead dropped onto his chest as you sighed. when you looked back up to him, spencer was already anticipating eye contact. “i’m sorry i didn’t say anything. i just didn’t want to worry you, or to make you feel like you’d done anything wrong, because it’s not your fault, i just-- i don’t ever want to feel like i’m holding you back.”

“holding me back from what? you could never hold me back.”

“i could, though! you’re this amazingly brilliant genius, and there are so many people out there who are so much smarter than me, and i--”

“is that what this is about? you think you’re not smart?” you felt his hand tense from its place on your lower back, his disbelief clear in his voice.

“no, no-- i mean, i know i’m smart enough. but sometimes when we have cases like this we meet some really, really smart people, and i can’t help but wonder if you would be better off with someone on your intellectual level. someone like einstein.”

“y/n,” spencer seemed stunned at this revelation, and you realized then that morgan had been right. the idea of you not being enough had never crossed spencer’s mind. “you are the person that i’m better off with. you. i don’t-- i’ve never even thought of anyone else as a possibility since i met you. there isn’t anyone else. i mean, before i knew you, i wasn’t even sure that i believed in love at all. the only reason that i know it’s real now is because of you. i can’t think of any statistics of mathematical theories or scientific discoveries to explain or defend it, but i have always known that there isn’t anything for me aside from you. i mean that. no matter how smart anyone else is, or how cool anyone else is, or how compatible anyone else’s intellect is with mine. i love you, y/n.”

and, just like that, your fears were gone. your inner monologue went silent, and the serenity that spencer’s words brought you washed over your entire body. spencer’s arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. his free hand moved to the side of your face, brushing back your hair as he waited for you to reply. the anticipation on his face sent another rush of absolute love through you, and you quickly closed the gap between you. as your mouth met his, your hands found their way to the sides of his neck, slowly wrapping around until they were laced together behind his head. for what could’ve been an hour, you stood there, melting into spencer as his words of reassurance replaced the chants of uncertainty that had filled your head hours prior. you were forced to pull back from him eventually, but even then your hands remained around his neck and the distance between your faces was minimal as you reopened your eyes. “i love you.”

a knock on the door suddenly interrupted the moment, causing you to release each other as a third party entered the room: morgan. “hey, lovebirds,” he grinned. “nice to see that you’re back to normal. it’s time to head home.” you smiled knowingly at the man, lacing your fingers through reid’s as you followed morgan out of the room. grabbing your belongings on the way out, the three of you headed toward your designated suv, where jj was waiting patiently in the driver’s seat. “so, you finally confessed, huh?”

“of course i did,” you laughed. “no secrets in this relationship.”

“yeah, and i would’ve figured it out eventually anyway.” at spencer’s interjection, it was morgan’s turn to laugh.

“oh, yeah, 187?”

“he is a genius, you know,” you added smugly.

“well, apparently so am i, because i figured it out before he did. oh, and by the way, pretty girl, i told you.” and with that, morgan was jogging off (in a fit of giggles) to the suv, hopping in the passenger seat before you had a chance to jokingly scold him.

damn profilers.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #paranoia

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