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nereidprinc3ss · 23 days

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do you believe me now? | 5

in which spencer reid and fem!reader are reunited, but the worst kind of sparks are flying. you meet a man named randall. derek morgan buys you a drink (sort of). it seems that some things can't be unsaid.

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this series is 18+ warnings/tags: r goes to a bar but doesn't drink alcohol, gets hit on by weird men, dramatic, angst, sorry in advance a/n: surprise! i'll see myself out. love you! lmk your thoughts on this bad boy! i KNOW you'll have some! i'm locking all my doors and the cops are on speed dial after posting this. stay tuned for part six tho

You don’t call Spencer for four days.

Spencer doesn’t call you for four days.

It’s scary.

There’s some texting—mostly him giving you updates on how things are going and when he expects to be back. Mostly you giving the messages a thumbs up and saying nothing else.

Finally, on Thursday afternoon, his ringtone (the Bill Nye theme) makes you jump as you’re sitting on your bed staring into space.

His caller ID photo—which is simply his passport photo, because you’d thought it was adorable—stares at you. You stare back. Contemplate not picking up.

But you’re not quite there yet.

And you cannot keep listening to Bill Nye the Science Guy.

The answer button is cold under your thumb, but not as cold as your greeting.

“Hi.”

You barely recognize your own voice.

It seems to send Spencer for a loop as well, because his reply is halting.

“Hey! Hi, um—how are you? I feel like we’ve barely talked this week.”

That would be because you told me my feelings for you are stronger than your feelings for me and I don’t know how to stop making every single word I say secretly mean I love you. We can’t have a conversation without me loving you. It will always be in the room or on the phone with us. To ignore the presence of it is impossible, and I don’t know if I can ignore the absence of yours, either.

“Uh… yeah. I’m fine. What’s up?”

There’s a pause.

“We wrapped up this morning. We’re getting on the jet here in a few minutes, and, um—I know it’s not ideal, but we missed Derek’s birthday and Penelope is insisting we all go to his favorite bar tonight. And he told me that for his birthday he wants to meet you. So… would you be up for that?”

“You want… to take me to a bar?”

“No. I mean—I know it’s not really your thing, but we missed Derek’s birthday three years in a row, and—and I understand if you don’t want to meet him tonight, but we wouldn’t have to stay very long and I really, really shouldn’t skip it. Derek has saved my life on more than one occasion.”

“You could go without me.”

More silence. Every second hurts, but you don’t understand why he wants you to come meet his best friend if he thinks the two of you are in different places emotionally.

But maybe he’s not going to break up with you just yet. Maybe he’s going to keep inviting you to bars and foreign film festivals and bookshops. Maybe he’s going to treat you exactly the same as he always has but with this new added layer of knowledge that the way he treats you isn’t actually love, and it never was, and you’re not sure if it has the potential to ever become love. Because if it did—wouldn’t it have already? What more do you have to offer than what you’ve already given him?

Breakup or no breakup, you feel sick.

When he speaks his tone is similarly chilly. It’s welcome. You want him mad. If he can’t reciprocate your adoration, then the very least he can do is have the decency to reciprocate your reproach.

“I could. Is that what you want?”

No. I don’t want any of this. I need you to know me well enough to know that. And if you can’t love me then at least get angry. At least show me you feel something other than passive contentment.

“Yeah. Sure. I don’t know.”

A pause stretches so long your heart pounds. You watch the elapsed time of the call tick by, second by second, and you wait for the anticipation to crack under the weight of silence, to give way to some terrible jump scare or to give way at all.

But the words that end the conversation (if you can even call it that) aren’t any great relief. They’re just sad, and chalk full of defeat.

“Alright. I’ll… I’ll call you later.”

You feel like you’ve swallowed an ice cube. All the words you’d like to say are frozen in your stinging throat.

“Okay. Um… I’ll let you board now.”

“The jet’s not…” but he trails off. When he speaks again he sounds just as hurt as you’d wanted—and it doesn’t make you feel better at all. “Okay. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The line goes dead, and your face is burning as tears fill your eyes for the hundredth time this week. That call was terrible and poisonous and you don’t feel like yourself.

Things have gone so wrong so quickly, and all you know how to do is ice him out so he can’t do it to you first. But it’s not going to make this better. No matter how mean you are to him, at the root of it all you feel unloved and scared and alone and Spencer knows things about love and relationships that you don’t. He’s confusing you with all this talk of feeling differently about each other and I’ll be home tomorrow I miss you and things get complicated when one person likes the other more and let’s talk in person and will you come meet my best friend tonight. All of it leaves you motion sick and ugly crying in the fetal position.

All you have to get through this is who you’ve always been, a little of the person you’ve become, and the love you harbor for Spencer which rattles around in your chest like a nail in an empty toolbox. At the moment it hardly seems helpful. It mocks you, pointing out the pathetic hilarity of your paradox. The only person who can comfort you, the person you want more than anything, is the reason you’re so upset in the first place. But you can’t help being drawn to him.

Maybe the love you have for Spencer is more like a magnet in a compass.

Even if he doesn’t feel it for you, you do love Spencer. And that goes beyond just loving the parts of him that like you. To hide from that love would be a gross disservice to yourself and all the work you’ve done to get here. It’s not as if you suddenly know exactly what the answer is—but you’re sure that hiding is the most childish, cowardly thing you could do and the furthest you could get from a resolution. Even if you can’t make him love you back, you refuse to allow yourself to fizzle quietly out of his life. This relationship deserves something more than that.

So maybe you don’t have a plan when you wipe your eyes and pick up your phone. Maybe there’s no strategy behind your actions as you text Garcia for the bar location. But if you keep running from everything you’ll never get anywhere. All you can do is show up. It seems like the next best step.

------

The pub isn’t too crowded—but for a Thursday night, you suppose it’s a bit busy.

Boot heels hooked onto the metal foot-beam of the stool you’re sitting on, elbows resting on the polished mahogany surface of the bar, you’re staring into an untouched mixed drink. Then you glance down the bar to your right, at the man who’d bought it for you.

Maybe your ensemble gave him the wrong idea.

Coming to this gathering had required bravery, and you came armored. Your ensemble projects significantly more confidence than you’re currently feeling. It was intentional, a form of self-protection—but now you’re wondering if it’s projecting a little too much confidence.

All done up, clearly still a little rough around the edges, and sitting alone at a bar was bound to draw the wrong pairs of eyes.

“Hey, darlin’,” the gruff man says, approaching when you inadvertently catch his gaze. “Are you gonna drink that, or should I? Otherwise I’m lookin’ at eleven dollars right down the drain.”

You avert your eyes, scanning the groups dotted here and there.

“I’m waiting for friends.”

“Does that make a free drink less appealing?”

He takes the stool next to you, off-gassing the scent of cigarettes and leather.

“I’m not drinking.”

“Really? I’ve never seen a girl who looks as sad as you do come sit at the bar to stay sober.”

You frown, looking back up at the man next to you. He seems like the Hell’s Angels type—tattooed knuckles, leather jacket, grey beard, and a weathered face that’s clearly spent decades with the sun. Fifties, maybe younger and just looks more rugged. What does it say about how I look tonight that this is the kind of man I’m attracting, you wonder. Maybe you look desperate and just as lonely as you feel. As he claims you do.

“I’m not sad.”

“Alright. I’ll take your word for it. But a happier girl wouldn’t be all alone.”

“I’m waiting for friends,” you repeat, letting the words drip like venom from your tongue.

“I’m Randall. See? Now we're friends.”

“I don’t need more friends. I like the ones I have.”

Something catches Randall’s attention long enough to catch yours. He raises his bottle vaguely, gesturing beyond your shoulder.

“Are those angry lookin’ guys in the suits marching right over here the friends you’re talking about?”

You turn your head, brows furrowed, and immediately see the gentlemen to whom your new pal is pointing out.

Spencer is storming across the bar looking close to furious (which for him, means an expression so placid it gives you chills) followed by Derek Morgan—a man who you’ve only seen pictures of and is even more impressive in person.

You hate how your breath catches, how your heart is already beating a little faster than usual at the sight of him even though you’re not exactly pleased with each other right now.

Suddenly the bubbles in your cocktail are once again fascinating.

“Those are the ones.”

“And why are they dressed for church?”

Church?

“They’re FBI.”

“Ah. My lucky fuckin’ day.”

You almost snort.

“Hey,” Spencer says sternly, hand settling on your back as he partially fills the small space between you and the strange man. “Who’s this?”

You shrug, sit up a little straighter, and take a shallow breath—not because you’re scared of this man but because Spencer is suddenly so close to you and you can feel his warmth and the air bending around him and the scent of him is genuinely dizzying to you.

“Randall,” you exhale unenthusiastically. But the odd thing is that you’re rather grateful for Randall’s presence. Because now Spencer is here and you have no idea what you’re going to say to him.

“Oh,” Randall says, sipping his beer unhurriedly before using it to gesture to Spencer. “You’re the boyfriend. You know, that’s funny, because she didn’t mention a boyfriend.”

“I didn’t mention anything. We weren’t having a real conversation.”

Randy holds his hands up defensively, fingers still wrapped around the neck of a sweating bottle.

“I’m just saying it’s in-ter-esting. Not trying to start anything.” He stands, pauses for another sip—Spencer obviously isn’t sure what to make of this man because he says nothing. “But listen, man to man—you better buy her some flowers or a real pretty fuckin’ necklace or somethin’ because a happy girl in a happy relationship does not come pout at the bar all by herself.”

“Get out of here, man,” Derek finally speaks up.

“Yeah, yeah.” He sets his empty bottle down and fishes in his pocket for a cigarette, sticking it between his lips. “But—just for the record—I have a wife. I wasn’t gonna do anything weird. Sometimes when you’re my age you just gotta live a little. Buy a pretty girl a drink. Piss off some Mormons, or whatever the fuck you are.”

This guy sounds like a bad Bruce Springsteen song. But part of you would almost rather hang out with Randall than be forced into a conversation you’re not prepared for with Spencer.

And whose fault is that, you remind yourself. You decided to come be mature. Suck it up.

“Goodnight,” Derek emphasizes.

Spencer doesn’t say a word. You can feel his eyes boring smoking holes into the side of your face, and you look anywhere else.

“I’ll be here next week after physical therapy like clockwork,” the stranger waves as he ambles away—but not before pointing at you. “You enjoy that drink, friend. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

What a weird man.

There’s silence for a moment—in which Spencer refuses to stop watching you and you refuse to acknowledge that.

“And here I was thinking Spencer made you up.” Derek has a beautiful smile and a warm, charming cadence as he holds out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Derek.”

You take the proffered hand and shake, offering him a shy smile and introducing yourself in kind.

“Happy birthday, by the way. Sorry for crashing your party.”

Really, he’s stunning.

“Thank you, sweetheart. And you’re not crashing anything. I told pretty boy here I wanted to meet you the second he started talking about a friend. But nah, he just wanted to talk and talk and talk about you—”

“Alright,” Spencer mumbles, blushing, eyes finally torn from your profile. You smile slightly, brows knitting as Derek magically melts some of the terrible tension.

“Pretty boy?”

Before either of them can explain, someone shrieks in your general direction. You startle backward in your seat, and Spencer steps closer, hand sliding up your back as Penelope, JJ, and Emily join your little huddle. For only a second you allow yourself to shrink into him—before you’re straightening your posture like your spine is a metal rod and his touch burns. It’s a knee-jerk defensive reaction for which you have no explanation. You can’t see him, but you don’t feel his hand on you again.

“Oh my god! Look at this beautiful person who I love!” Penelope exclaims, pushing past Derek to grab your face and kiss both of your cheeks. “Oh my god,” she says again, wiping sticky lipgloss away with her thumbs, “I totally meant to ask before I did that. But your face is just so kissable. I’m so glad you decided to come!”

“Hi, Penelope,” you smile half-heartedly, incapable of reciprocating her cheery mood. Fortunately, she’s cheery enough for a standard commercial flight’s worth of people, and probably thinks of Derek’s birthday as a national holiday—so she doesn’t pick up on this.

Emily and JJ offer you tamer although perfectly kind greetings.

“Ooh, what are you drinking?” Emily asks, leaning closer to examine the forgotten beverage in front of you.

“Not that,” Spencer mutters, grabbing the glass and sliding it away from you. You give him an affronted look—and immediately wish you hadn’t, since you’re meeting his eyes for the first time since he left. His words stall for just a moment as his eyes dart between yours before he’s saying, “you shouldn’t accept a drink if you didn’t watch someone make it.”

The audacity of him to be acting protective makes you scoff.

“That guy didn’t spike my drink. He was harmless.”

“People thought Ted Bundy was harmless, too.”

It’s such a ridiculous thing to say that you don’t even have a response—your eyes simply narrow and you shake your head. A claustrophobic silence falls over the small group.

“Okay…” JJ murmurs. “Um, do you guys want to go check out the jukebox with me? We have to play all of the birthday boy’s favorites.”

Several enthusiastic yeses go around, but you’re too busy having a stand off with your boyfriend to take much notice.

Soon, it’s just the two of you.

“Controlling isn’t a good look for you,” you finally say, spinning to rest your elbows on the bar once more and studying the bottles of liquor on the shelves beyond.

“Evasive and avoidant isn’t particularly flattering, either. I was under the impression that you had no intention of coming after that phone call earlier.”

You scoff again as your blood heats. Already the conversation is going worse than you’d expected—and your expectations were not high.

“Do you think the cab driver was a serial killer, too? Or maybe the bartender?”

He’s still behind you and slightly to the side—but he leans down, resting his own fists on the bar right next to you and speaking lowly, directly over your shoulder.

“Why don’t you try speaking to me like we’re adults instead of starting meaningless arguments in order to get under my skin?”

From him, that hurts.

It’s a branch on the tree of your greatest insecurity—the fear that you’re too inexperienced with relationships and that makes you too immature and he’s been lying every time he says it’s not an issue. Because of course it’s an issue. It’s why you fell in love with him, it’s why you don’t know how to fix it, and it’s why you’re incapable of actually expressing any of your feelings to him.

“Why do you think I’m here right now?” you whisper—as sharp and stinging as a poison dart. “I’m trying to be a fucking adult. I don’t want to be here.”

Silence.

“Then why did you come?”

His voice is so calm it burns like dry ice.

“Because! Because you asked me to, because—”

You can’t bring yourself to say it aloud.

Because I’m obviously still in love with you and I can’t just turn that off. I tried to do the right thing.

Instead you bury your face in your hands and let it hang in the air, unspoken. You know he knows. You just don’t know why he’s acting like you’re so unreasonable for being upset.

“Let me make this very clear to you,” Spencer murmurs, brushing your hair away from your ear so tenderly, speaking so softly you could convince yourself that he’ll say something kind. It’s the closest he’s been in days and now that he’s here you feel how much you missed him in your bones. And even though you sense a trap, you can’t help but sit up straighter. You’ll be complicit in your own undoing if it means you can have him close. His breath shakes slightly as he inhales and you brace as best you can. “Nobody is forcing you to be here. You told me you weren’t coming and then you decided to show up. I was ready to give you the space that you were too scared to ask me for. But I can only take responsibility for so much of what is ultimately your bad behavior and your adolescent volatility. You can only blame so much of your bad behavior on inexperience before I run out of patience because I don’t find thoughtlessness and emotional immaturity compelling. I told you that if there is a disparity in the way we feel for each other, that was fine, and I meant it. But if you can’t cope with how I feel about you then don’t let me hold you back. I am not holding you hostage. You can leave whenever you want. So don’t waste your time punishing me because you don’t want to be here. And if you do want to be here, good. I want that too. But act like an adult and make a decision. My leniency has limits, even for you. I am asking that you do not push it any further than you already have.”

You don’t know how long it’s been since your last breath by the time he finishes his address.

Long enough that you’re dizzy when you push away from the bar and shoulder through the throng of patrons as quickly as you reasonably can without outright running.

Long enough that when you burst out the door into the biting-cold night air, and finally take a deep, gasping breath, it burns and stings and aches and so does your head and your eyes as they well with hot, furious, heartbroken tears.

You speed-walk to the end of the block, hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your cries and all the curse words you’d love to scream.

Part of you knows you walked away from the bar in case he decided to try and follow you—but when you look over your shoulder the sidewalk is empty. You should’ve known better than to think he’d follow you after that. But at least it means you can have your breakdown by the relative safety of the bar, leaning your back against the dirty brick facade next to the entrance alcove and sliding down until your butt hits the cold concrete and you don’t even care.

Who the fuck was that man in the bar who looked like Spencer and sounded like Spencer but spoke to you like this is all your fault, like it’s your fault you love him and he doesn’t love you back, like it’s ridiculous that you’d be upset, like you’re cruel and petty for having feelings about it, about him—for having any fucking feelings at all? And to think that was the man who you let know you more intimately than anyone ever has. Every insecurity you’d ever admitted to him was hurled back in your face like it was nothing. Hell—he even handed you the ones you’d never mentioned. He proved every terrible thought you’ve been having about yourself right.

How could he be so unabashedly mean to you?

Spencer doesn’t have to love you. It seems clearer now than ever that he doesn’t. But part of you wonders if he suffered some sort of traumatic brain injury because that’s the only explanation for why he could go from treating you how he did before to treating you like he doesn’t even like you.

You feel like you might throw up.

“Called it,” a rasping, grumbling voice says from a few feet away.

You look up, and spot fucking Randall standing under a street light ten feet away, still smoking.

You go back to studying the tar spots on the sidewalk through bleary eyes. Pebbles sting as they press into your palms. Another one of the universe’s terrible jokes, you suppose. Just earlier you’d thought that you’d rather talk to Randall than Spencer and now here you are and here he is.

“That kid as much of a dipshit punk as I thought he was?”

Hearing Spencer described as a kid and a dipshit punk is so jarring you almost stop crying.

“He’s not a dipshit,” you sniff, voice thick with tears as you find yourself explaining Spencer Reid to this stranger for no reason at all. “He has an IQ of 187. He’s a genius.”

“Ah,” he scoffs dismissively, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Dipshit-ism don’t discriminate. Anyone can be one. Even your genius punk boyfriend. As a recovering dipshit myself I know what the work of a fellow dipshit looks like. And this has dipshit written all over it.”

You sob harder.

Randall speaks calmly around his cigarette.

“You know, I’m sorry for whatever you got goin’ on. But I’ve never not been the asshole when I got a hysterical woman in front of me. It’s nice that I can confidently say this time it is not my fault.”

The bar door opens, letting a warm burst of jovial music and chatter into the otherwise still night. Steps that are too heavy to be Spencer’s hit the concrete next to you—you look to your left and see Derek Morgan before he looks down and sees you.

“Hey—you okay out here?”

“Why don’t you go ask your Jehovah’s Witness buddy? He did this.”

Derek makes a face, locating the source of this interjection.

“Sir, I asked you to leave her alone once and I don’t appreciate being made to repeat myself. Are we clear?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck me for making friendly conversation, I guess. Gonna have to call my wife and tell her to pick me up down the street. I don’t want her on the damn phone while she’s driving.”

Randall wanders away again, still muttering to himself and smoking. Derek watches him go, staring daggers into his back until he turns his gaze to you.

Goodbye, Randall, you think. Great. Now I have neither of them.

“Hey,” he softens, crouching down to your level. “You okay?”

You sniff, wiping your cheeks and attempting not to smudge your makeup. It’s impossible not to feel awkward—you just met this guy and now he’s here trying to do emotional labor for you on his birthday.

“Yeah, I’m fine. This is embarrassing.”

“You don’t look fine. Can I do anything for you? Do you want some food? A drink?”

“You really don’t have to—”

“I know, I know. But look—Reid is always talking about you. You’re important to him, and he’s important to me. I’ve never seen him this happy and I’ve known that kid a long time. It is in my best interest that someone maintain you, and if it’s not him, it’ll be me. Call it a favor to him, if that makes you feel better.” Derek is sporting a slightly more modest Cheshire grin again by the end of his sentence. Listening to him speak that way about Spencer speaking about you, it’s impossible not to feel a teeny bit lighter. Even if you’re not entirely sure where you stand on all things Spencer related at the moment. “So I’ll ask you again. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You sniff again.

“Sure. A ginger ale or something might be good.”

“Got it. I’ll be back. And come inside if Randall tries to run up on you again, okay?”

Despite yourself you manage a laugh at the way he says the name. His warm smile flickers warmer at this.

“Will do.”

When Derek returns a few minutes later, the plastic cup he’s holding looks decidedly not like ginger ale.

“Penelope insisted that this is what you would want. I don’t even know.”

You smile slightly as you take the cup, full to the brim with bubbles and thick red syrup. A cherry bobs underneath the layer of cubed ice.

“Shirley temple,” you chuckle. “I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome,” he says, flashing that brilliant smile again, and you look into your cup as you drink. Maybe your face warms just a bit. You’re still shy around men, you realize. Especially attractive ones. And Derek Morgan definitely qualifies as attractive.

“So,” he begins, and to your surprise, crouches down in front of you. “I have to be honest—I came out here in the first place because Reid sent me to check on you. But now I’m wondering what the hell he did.”

Spencer sent him. A considerate action that would theoretically signal his care for your feelings. You take another sip, staring into space and trying to digest this information, but it only jumbles with the rest to confuse you more.

Of course, you don’t know how to convey this to Derek in a way that’s not overly-familiar for just having met the man, so you go with an old standby.

“I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Uh-huh. I have sisters. I know what an overreaction looks like and if you were overreacting you wouldn’t be out here hiding. What’d he do?”

You can only keep up the facade of emotional stability for so long. Your chin wobbles in a horribly embarrassing way and you look down again.

“I’m not sure—I’m not sure if he really did anything or if I’m just being dramatic and I don’t want to make him seem—”

“Why don’t you stop defending him and just tell me what he did?” Derek urges. “Trust me—I love that kid to death. But I also know he can be a dick sometimes. You don’t need to worry about making him look bad in front of me.”

Part of you is glad Spencer has such a good friend on his side. And Derek is right—Spencer is an adult. You don’t need to worry about besmirching his reputation. So you take a shuddering sigh, staring into the red of your drink.

“He just doesn’t like me as much as I like him. Which isn’t his fault, like I said, but—he’s being such an asshole about it.”

Derek pulls a face, strong eyebrows making an impression as they knit.

“Did he tell you that?”

“Over the phone,” you nod emphatically. “And just now he gave me this whole fucking speech about how immature and horrible I am for not being 100% happy about it. And maybe he’s partially right, I mean—I know people feel things differently and maybe he just was asking for more time. I worry I fucked it up so bad because I couldn’t handle that—but at the same time he didn’t say he wanted more time. He was really fucking unclear and vague about what he wanted, and he asked me to come to this bar like it was nothing when I’ve been worried he was going to break up with me all week. So yeah, I guess he’s right and I have been a bitch about it because I was upset that he didn’t… like me as much. And I wanted him to feel bad because I was so embarrassed, and I also didn’t want to act like everything was normal if he was just going to dump me, I…” you realize you’ve been hardcore rambling and your face heats. “I don’t know.”

There’s a pause, and you worry you’ve done exactly the thing you didn’t want to, which was overshare to this man who seems like he’s significantly more normal and well-adjusted than you. You drink deeply, swallowing sugar and the rest of your words.

“That’s… bizarre. I don’t mean to invalidate your feelings, but… that just doesn’t make any sense.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, projecting annoyance so you won’t start crying again. “I was confused too. I thought he really liked me.”

“No, sweetheart, I’m saying—that doesn’t make sense because he does really like you. Really, really likes you, more than I’ve ever seen him like someone before. I mean, last week I finally finished that Tesla biography he’s been on my ass about for months and when I told him, all he wanted to do was talk about your thoughts on it. And then it wasn’t even about the book anymore. I have never, ever seen Reid pass up an opportunity to talk about Nikola Tesla. I’m talking never in my life. He finds a way to make every conversation about you. I can’t even follow the connections sometimes but he always finds a way.”

Your nose wrinkles.

“Sorry you’ve had to hear so much about me,” you mumble. Though you’re not really sorry. It feels good. A twinge of joy in all the murk.

“I’m not. Like I said, I’ve known Spencer for a long time and I’ve never seen him this happy. I’m not about to let him fuck it up.”

“If I make him so happy then why did he tell me we don’t feel the same?” you whisper, reaching into the puddle of syrup and ice at the bottom of your now empty cup.

“Is that exactly what he said?” Derek asks, after a long pause. You bite the maraschino cherry off the stem and nod morosely, grinding a long-gone stranger’s cigarette butt with your boot just to crush something. There’s another beat of silence. “Alright. You know what I think?”

You raise your head to meet his gaze, your own wide-eyed and expectant.

“I think you two need to have an honest conversation. You’re both confused and hurting—I promise Spencer is feeling it too. If you talk to him he won’t be unkind to you.”

“He already was,” you admit.

“I apologize if I’m out of line here, but you just told me you’ve been icing him out all week because you want him to feel bad. I’m willing to bet you don’t realize how sharp these claws are.” Derek grabs your hand as he says it and you marvel at how much he is the opposite of you. Everything he does and says seems so natural and reasonable and charming even if it would piss you off from anyone else—and you just met the guy. You can see why Spencer and Penelope speak so highly of him. “I think you’ve probably both had your moments these past few days. But that doesn’t mean neither of you deserve any more chances.”

He puts your hand back on your knee and pats it.

“Besides, Spencer‘s not good at mean. I bet he’s inside worrying himself sick over whatever dumb shit he said to you. He’s probably hyperventilating as we speak.”

“It was really out of character for him,” you concede.

“Yeah. He’ll be apologizing for a long while. It will get annoying. But he sure as hell won’t be doing it again, I can tell you that much. If he does, let me know. Emily and I will whoop his ass and call it a fitness evaluation.”

“I think that’ll be unnecessary,” you laugh thickly, pulling your sleeve over your hand and wiping away the few tears that haven’t quite dried. “But thank you.”

“Anytime. Now, it’s my birthday, and as a grown man I should not be getting involved in someone else’s relationship drama. I was supposed to be on the dance floor a while ago.” His tone is so warm and sugary by the time he finishes it could rot his perfect grin. It’s futile to hide the way your mouth twists into a reluctant smile as you look down and fix your hair—praying he can’t tell how fazed you are by his kindness. “You’re going to talk to him, right?”

“I’ll—yeah. Right,” you say quietly. But the sinking feeling in your stomach knows it’s a thing easier said than done.

“Good,” Derek grunts, taking your empty cup before pushing himself back up to his feet and offering you a hand. “Do you want me to send him out here or do you want to come find him inside?”

You balk.

“Like—right now? I have to talk to him now?”

Before he can give you an answer you think you’d rather not have, the bar door is opening. From your spot you can’t see who it is right away, but Derek turns over his shoulder and does a double take before looking back at you.

Spencer steps out onto the sidewalk, eyes scanning for until he realizes you’re a few feet shorter than usual. Sitting on a filthy public walkway is probably his worst nightmare, you realize, as you scramble to your feet and dust the crumbs of concrete from your palms against the back of your cold jeans. He begins to say your name, and it sounds like relief and regret, but you stop him.

“I have to go wash my hands.”

It’s monotonous and mumbled and comes out too quickly but you don’t have time to worry about that as you brush past both of the men on your way back into the bar, making an immediate beeline for the bathroom.

Your face burns with anxiety as you shut the door behind you, immediately drowning in the yellowish lighting which is so harsh but seems to illuminate almost nothing. Who paints a bathroom red? It’s suffocating. You feel like you’re inside an aorta.

Water runs cool over your hands as you sniffle, rinsing the bits of dirt from red indents made by pebbles and things, and the soap is too floral and powdery but you wash twice anyway. Maybe you’ll just stay in here and wash your hands forever.

There’s a light knock on the shiny wooden door and it makes you jump. Your name is muffled from the other side.

“You in there?”

Quickly you wipe under your reddened eyes in the mirror, trying to fix the slightly smudged makeup.

The door opens when you don’t respond, and there’s Spencer, looking weary and tense all at once. Is that your fault?

“Hey,” you sniff, trying to effect casualness, but it comes out too quickly and your posture is too stiff. Under his all-seeing gaze you cross and uncross your arms, look at him and look away. Your hands end up in your pockets. He’d say crossed arms are a sign of self-soothing.

“Hey.” His is more measured, and of course makes you feel embarrassed in comparison. The door swings shut behind him as he enters the small room and makes it feel that much smaller. “Are you… hiding from me in here?”

Yes.

The graffitied toilet stalls to your left suddenly look fascinating.

“Nope. Just washing my hands.”

This is not what Derek told you to do, you scold yourself internally. Stop being so scared. Be honest with him.

Silence rings. All the brutally honest things you’d like to say choke you until your throat hurts and your eyes get hot. Yet again you feel like a stupid little girl who’s too emotional to communicate.

You cross your arms. It’s an indulgence you feel you’re owed.

Spencer says your name again and it’s too much. He never says it this often. When he does it feels good but now it’s too formal, makes you too aware of your own inadequacy, and how he must be seeing you—a wraith of a girl in a dingy bar bathroom with clammy hands and smudged eyeliner, practically shaking with fear under an unforgiving light. Someone who is too scared and much too sensitive.

Spencer attempts to speak again.

“What I said before, it was—”

“Can you just take me home?”

It comes out on one exhalation and seems to stall him with all the effectiveness of a slap to the face.

You don’t know where it comes from, either.

Easier said than done, you’d thought a few moments ago. All the bravery Derek had tried to instill in you is gone, swallowed down the drain like soap scum. And now you’re choosing to let your fear win—because at least that’s a known quantity. The fear will never reject you. It will always be waiting with open arms.

Too scared.

The end feels imminent. You try to press yourself back together, fingernails biting into palms, trying to make something feel more tangible than the terrible knowingness that you’re careening toward an end which was supposed to be a beginning. It’s stifling and you wonder if Spencer is breathing it too.

You can’t look at his face, but you watch him pocket his hands in his pants and there is so much impossible space between you in such a tiny room.

“Yeah. I can.”

Something breaks. It’s small, and without fanfare. But it feels final.

It’s just a ride home. Just a ride home.

That’s all you have left, and you don’t know how you know it but you do.

Something so important is being left in this stupid, dingy bathroom. Something that was at one point beautiful and shiny and so arrogant in its newness that it seemed it would never become ugly. And now you’re abandoning it without dignity on the chipped tile floor and in the cobwebs on the walls. It was bigger than you, it was you—and now it’s going to be nothing.

A vehicle honks on the street. A boisterous group laugh explodes somewhere beyond the door. Water drips from a faucet.

“I’ll… I’ll bring my car around.”

“Okay.”

But he just stands there for another moment. Like he can’t get himself to move.

If only time would freeze before he could walk away.

But it doesn’t.

He sucks in a decisive breath.

“Okay,” he murmurs.

It’s that fucking phone call all over again.

Then he spins on his heels and leaves you there.

Your time is up.

part 5.5

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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moonstruckme · 3 months

Note

hi!

can i request tasm!peter meeting reader after having to do long distance?

if not thats okay! love your writing:)

have a great day<3

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 683 words

You don’t just give out copies of the key to your apartment, so when the front door opens you think you’re about to be shot.

Breath caught in your throat, you freeze in the hallway and say the first deterrent that comes to mind. “I’ve got a gun!”

The laughter that responds is as familiar as it is cheeky. “No, you don’t,” Peter says.

“Jesus.” Your heart starts again, and in that split second your feet are already moving.

Peter opens his arms as you throw yourself at him, taking your weight happily. “Nope, just me,” he quips, his harsh grip at odds with the levity of his voice.

“Still a bad joke.” Your own voice is thick with fondness. You press your face into his neck, getting your boyfriend as close as you can. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” He gives your upper back an excited squeeze. “You miss me?”

“Not even,” you mumble into his shoulder. You go ahead and wrap your legs around his waist, and Peter chuckles, starting to walk the both of you towards your couch. “You scared the shit out of me, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe not my best plan.” He collapses downward, and you fold yourself around him more completely, getting comfortable in his lap. You think you’ll just never leave, honestly. “I thought the surprise would be more fun than scary.”

“I could’ve met you at the airport.”

“May would’ve killed me.” He palms the back of your neck, lips finding your hairline. “She wanted to pick me up herself, but she’s letting you have me for dinner. I have to be back by ten.”

You let out a petulant whine. “Why does she get to decide?”

You adore Peter’s aunt and he knows it, but when you’re having to battle her for custody of your boyfriend all that love goes right out the window.

“I know,” Peter commiserates. “You’d think after a semester of taking care of myself in another country, I’d be allowed to stay out until at least eleven.”

You hum, vacating your spot in the juncture of his neck in favor of seeing his face. You pet down the cowlick at the crown of his head, and Peter catches your hand, kissing your palm. A warm thrumming starts up in your chest. It’s similar to the sensation you’d gotten during your evening calls while Peter was abroad (well, your evening, his late night), but more. Better. You’ve missed feeling it like this.

“How was Hertfordshire?” you ask.

Peter gives you a look like you’re being silly. “I told you already.”

“It’s different in person.”

He smiles, thinking. “Small. Grassy. Cute, but not much to swing off of.” There’d been no vigilante work while Peter did his research abroad. He talked like it was a welcome break, but you could tell he missed it. Something changes in his look, eyes going soft and flirty. “No pretty girls.”

You bite back a smile. “Let’s not do the women of Hertfordshire a disservice,” you chide.

“Fine.” Peter rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “None of my pretty girl.”

He lifts his chin and you oblige him, touching your lips to his. It’s a kiss months in the making, and it heats quicker than either of you are expecting. Your heart thunders and throbs to the point of aching. You shuffle closer in Peter’s lap and his hand presses into the small of your back, both of your breathing turning harsh and desperate.

“Missed you,” he says into your mouth.

“I missed you more.”

“Wanna bet?” Peter lifts you off the couch, and his casual strength shouldn’t surprise you anymore but it does. You laugh, again wrapping your legs around his waist.

“Shouldn’t we start to think about dinner?” you ask as he carries you towards your bedroom.

He hums, reluctant. “What time is it?”

You look to the side to check the clock on your microwave, and he kisses your cheekbone while you do. “Almost seven.”

Peter hums against your skin, pressing another kiss to the side of your nose. “We’ve got time.”

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antiwhores · 1 year

Note

hear me out - being with newly appointed pro hero bakugou and finding out he's a virgin, slowly introducing him into new things and him, the big bad and scary kastuki bakugou, being a whiny baby in bed 👀

could be a series, could be a drabble, I'm just putting my ideas on the table yk 🤷🏽‍♀️

(just read this over, and it's so vague and not descriptive 💀 clearly there's a reason I don't write myself but anywaysss)

You’re so real for this.

He confesses to his virginity one night during patrol - on accident of course. You’re his sidekick, maybe a little higher in rank then him. You LOVE to tease him. People call you crazy for it since hes always so close to blasting you to hell but you dont care. The angry flush on his face always does it for you.

“You probably pay for prostitutes all the time Bakugou!” He clicks his tongue dismissively at you, “The hell I do.” “Just admit you’re a devious pervert! I already know! You wanna know how I know? The way you stare at me when I-“ “IM A VIRGIN. THERE ARE NO PROSTITUTES.”

Big mistake on his part, the teasing gets worse. Who knew that the great Dynamite would let his secretary bully him?

“Hey Dynamite, ‘bet you haven’t even kissed anyone yet, huh?” You blurt one day through a giggle. These files were getting boring and having to sit in silence for too long made you antsy. He mumbled something under his breath before continuing to highlight passages through his reading glasses.

You questioned him but he ignored you. You hated being ignored.

You got up and walked over to him, spinning his chair towards you and supporting yourself on his thighs. “Am I right then?” You cooed, inches before his face. He groaned, “Do your fucking work and leave me alone before I fire your ass.”

Your face immediately lights up, “Oh my god! You haven’t!” A red bush infects his cheeks when he looks away. He looks embarrassed and humiliated and you start to feel bad. “Shut the fuck up, I have before.”

You wrap yours arms around his neck and pull him in to your chest. “Its okay~.” And in the split of a second, without even thinking, you connect your lips to his. It was quick, just a small peck.

But Bakugou was HOOKED. his face was blushed and his breathing was picking up.

He would never admit this but he does have a thing for you. He thinks about you a lot. A LOT. In ways that he shouldn’t whilst being your boss. He finds himself at night thinking about all of your words. Your teases and your lingering touches.

He thinks that you brainwashed him, you’re definitely lying about your quirk. Your quirk has to be a love plague type.

Thats why he grabbed your face and shoved his tongue in your mouth. Thats also why he shoved you on his lap and held you there just so he could hump you like a feral bunny until he came all over himself.

Its also why he’s texting you at 2 am with his cock in his hand.

Katsuki: Oi

Y/n: Whats up, boss?

How is he supposed to ask to fuck you? But not right away? But he still wants to touch and fuck you? Also he wants nudes.

This is too confusing.

Y/n: Your dick is probably in your hand right now. Isn’t it?

He’s adding telepathy to you quirk file tomorrow.

Y/n: I’ll help you out. *one attachment*

You sent a picture of your bare, soapy titties. He didn’t think that he could get harder in his hands. His slow and sensual strokes turned hard and fast until he came on himself for the second time today.

Damn it, you were going to be the end of him.

After last night, you both would meet up. It was never planned but always just whenever he would drag you into an enclosed space with a huge hard on.

“Fuck, can you… can we…” You had to squint to see his expression through the darkness of the closet. He was red from the neck to the ears and he breathed in deep, unsteady breaths.

You had already jerked him off once today. He was whining, gripping his desk so hard that it started to chip when he was closed to his high.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’re ready.” You cooed.

He balled up his fists and clenched his teeth at that. “Im not a fucking teenager.” “Yeah well you cum like one.”

Before he could rebuttal you got on your knees. He immediately closed his mouth as you began to unbuckle his belt. “Ill give you something close to it since I’m so nice.”

You whip out his cock so fast his breath hitches. He’s a lot bigger than you’ve ever taken before. You look down to hide the intimidated smile.

He was puddy in your hands as soon as you took the first lap up his cock. You felt his hands tangle in your hair when you finally went down. A moan slipped out before he could catch it when you deep throated him.

Up and down, up and down. His moans got more and more verbal until he started to speak.

“Fuck…. Tellin’ me I can’t fuck you, i- haah- can handle it.”

You panties felt soaked from the dirty words turned insults dropping from his lips. “Fuckin’ tease.” “This is the only thing- haah- you’re good for.”

You could tell he was close; his cock constricted and his knees started to buckle. Suddenly, he grabbed your head and started to face fuck you. All you could do was grab onto his thighs like your life depended on it until he was done.

He moaned loud and long before coming in heavy ropes down your throat. His whole body shook and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Fuuuuuck.”

He refused to move until you swallowed all of his cum. You went into a coughing fit as soon as he freed you from his fat cock.

He bent down and looked you in your clouded eyes. His face flushed and panting, “Thanks.” He uttered awkwardly.

#mha x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou imagine #katsuki x reader #bakugou thirst #bakugou smut #bakugo x reader #mha smut

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python333 · 9 months

Text

scary dog privileges — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur super duper scary to almost all 141 soldiers, but to price soap ghost and gaz ur just the sweetest little thing ever :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], no usage of c/n [call sign chosen for this fic is 'Cerberus'!], might sound kind of rushed/shitty :{

note normally i try not to rush fics BUT i started this at like 12 pm and as im typing this out its 11 pm and ive only written 2285 words so im kind of rushing this so i can keep up my little posting daily thing!! this idea has also been rotting in my brain for a while, so i might make a hcs thing from it, idk, but for now its just this fic!! also, thank you everyone who gave reblogged my last fic, reblogs are the best sorta motivation for a reader and i absolutely appreciate all of them :> anyway this is all fluff + comfort no hurt and has some soft!ghost in it because hes my dad and i love him so enjoy!!

The Private in front of you may as well have been pissing his pants with how scared he looked. His commanding officer, and one of your closest friends, Soap, had reported him to you for ‘insubordination’. He’d said, verbatim, when telling you about him, “I’d deal with him myself, but I’m too tired to,” so now you had to deal with one of his subordinates.

You sighed through your nose as you looked down at the Private in front of you, the latter comically small compared to you, both physically and mentally.

“Well?” You ask expectantly, raising an eyebrow at him, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” The Private shakily nods and you can hear him gulp, “Right, yeah, so basically, it was earlier this morning and I was following orders and everything, doing what I was supposed to, then I accidentally interrupted Soap while he was giving me orders, which I didn’t mean to do, I swear, I just wasn’t thinking and it happened and I just— I didn’t mean to do it. And then later on, we were both—me and Soap—talking with a few other people who I guess were some higher ranked soldiers from different tactical operations and I accidentally interrupted some of them. It was—” “I’m sorry, hold on,” You put a finger up to silence him, to which he responds with immediate silence, letting you talk, “You don’t accidentally interrupt someone. Either you do it or you don’t. You don’t just slip up and interrupt your CO in the middle of him giving you orders. Secondly, always refer to Soap as ‘Captain MacTavish’, or ‘Captain’ if that’s somehow too hard for you, don’t act like you get to talk about him like you’re both all buddy-buddy and—” “Okay, but if you’d just let me finish—” The Private tries to interrupt you, making you draw your eyebrows together in confusion. “Excuse me?” You ask, mildly offended that he had the audacity to interrupt you, “Did you just interrupt me?” The Private stays silent for a moment, looking up at you, wide-eyed. His whole face looks even more stupid like this—like he doesn’t even know what he did.

“I asked you a question, Private,” You remind him, leaning down a bit, tilting your head to the side questioningly, “Did you just interrupt me?” “Right, yeah, I did, sorry about that—” He tries to apologize, “Didn’t mean to. Swear.” “Right,” You narrow your eyes at him, standing back up straight and crossing your arms, “Remember what I just said? About not accidentally interrupting people?” “Yeah, I do.” “Could you say ‘Yes, Lieutenant’ instead of that?” You ask, “This isn’t a casual conversation. This is one of your superiors telling you that you can’t blatantly disrespect your commanding officer, so act like it.” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant,” The Private stammers, which really shouldn’t make your lips twitch at the corners but it does, and you have to fight off a smile, pursing your lips instead.

“Like I was saying earlier,” You continue your words from earlier, “In conversations like these, when you’re not out doing an assignment, I don’t want to catch you referring to Captain MacTavish as just ‘Soap’ ever again. And you don’t want me to catch you doing that either, you understand?” “I understand, Lieutenant.” “Good, good,” You nod, before gesturing for the Private to keep giving you his side of the story, “Continue telling me what happened then.” “Right, so, after that, Captain MacTavish gave me some new orders, and I felt like I had a better idea of what to do than him because I’d thought of something that makes more sense than what he told me to do, so I told him as such, and he acted all shocked like I didn’t have a really good idea, and told me that I was to follow his orders not the ones I tried to give to myself so I told him that mine were better and—”

“Have you read the military regulations and codes of conduct? Ever?” You interrupt, making the Private shut up almost immediately and hesitantly nod his head affirmatively. “I really don’t believe you. Everything I’ve heard so far is a direct violation of it, I just—” You pause to give a small, humorless laugh, “You have me speechless here, really.” The Private watches nervously as you struggle to find the appropriate words to say, before you finally come up with, “Is there more that you need to tell me about?” “… Yeah,” The Private answers sheepishly, making you sigh through your nose and gesture for him to tell you the rest. He clears his throat before starting up again, “And then he said that he’s the commanding officer for a reason and that what he says goes so I said okay and did what he told me to do. Then after that whole thing, he told me to go to your office and tell you what I did.” Why do I have to do all his dirty work? “… Okay then,” You look up at the ceiling and try to think of what to do, before taking a deep breath and looking down at the Private, muttering, “Well, I appreciate that you didn’t go into my office without my permission, at least you know not to do that.” You clear your throat before speaking louder, “Let’s head into my office instead of just standing out here. This is probably violating some sort of code…” The Private nods and lets you unlock the door to your office that’s just a few steps away and walks in after you, being sure to close the door behind him. He automatically sits at the chair across from your desk and you sit down at your own chair behind your desk.

“Right, okay, let’s see…” You dig around the drawers of your desk, before letting out a small ‘ah-ha!’ and pulling a corrective action assignment form out of one of the small drawers of your desk and setting it onto the top of your desk. You grab a pen from the small cup by your desk and write down the date on the form in your usual neat handwriting.

You read a question on the form and look over at the Private, “Could you give me your full name, please?”

“John— John Williams,” The Private stammers again, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Your name is John-John Williams?”

“No, just John Williams, Lieutenant.” “M’kay,” You write down his name and fill out a few more things on the form before signing it off with your name and looking over at the Private once again, folding the paper in half as you do, “I’m gonna trust you to bring this to Soap, and tell him that it’s from me. You think you can do that?” “Yeah, of course,” John breathes out, grabbing the paper from you as you hand it to him. “Yes what?” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant.” “There we go,” You sigh and lean back in your chair, “Go on and pass that to him. And tell him to send anyone else who’s being insubordinate to Ghost or something, anyone but me.”

John simply nods and gets up, walking out your office door and making sure to close it behind him. You cap the pen you’d used and put it back in the cup where the rest of your writing utensils are, before yawning and leaning forward to rest your head on your desk when suddenly there’s a sharp knocking at your office door. You muffle a groan and wait a moment before calling out, “Come in!” You watch as your door slowly opens, making a creaking sound that hurts your ears a bit, and much to your annoyance, yet another Private is standing in your doorway, looking just as sheepish as the last. “Oh my f— you know what?” You stand up and take a deep breath to momentarily calm yourself, “Who sent you? Was it Soap?” “… Yes,” The Private answers, their voice shaky as they speak to you, the whole thing only making you more annoyed. “Where is he right now?” You ask, walking towards the door and opening it wider, towering over the much smaller Private in front of you.

“The— the training facility.” You blink at the Private and you take another deep breath to calm yourself. “Yeah, no sh— ugh, you know what? Thank you. Just—” You look up at the ceiling and tell yourself not to snap at this poor rookie, and look back down at them, “Just follow me. I have to go yell at him.”

“What?” The Private asks dumbly, their eyes widening a bit in surprise. You don’t bother to look over your shoulder and check that they’re following you, instead just walking out of your office, somehow hearing their footsteps even with the thundering stomping your boots made as you walked.

You eventually made it to one of the training facilities, the only one that currently had anyone in them, and opened the door louder than you meant to. You walked in, the shaking Private behind you as you walked up to Soap and took several deep breaths to calm yourself, ignoring the several rookies that stared at you as you walked over to him. You could hear small whispers forming amongst Soap’s small platoon of soldiers, but ignored them as well, simply walking up to Soap, who finally noticed you. He turned to you and gave you a knowing grin, like he knew exactly why you were here. “Hey, L.t—” “Why have I had two Privates coming into my office telling me you sent them because you couldn’t do your damn job?” You question him immediately, ignoring the small gasp from the Private behind you, “Do you know how many CAA forms I have left? Three. Three forms. Because you can’t deal with your own rookies. If I wanted to be dealing with them, I would’ve let Price make me a CO. You know what I said when he asked me to be one? Fuck no. I said it for a reason.”

“… Sae ye din’t want me tae report onyone else tae ye?” Soap asks, like the little shit he is, in a teasing tone. “Absolutely not.”

“Noted,” He nods, as if he understands, and gestures for the Private he’d sent to you to come back over to him, “I actually got yer message a minute ago from Williams. I think he almost shat himself.”

“I’m kinda happy about that, honestly,” You mutter, “Everything he told me was like… a direct violation of the code of conduct and was just so stupid.” “I ken!” Soap agrees, “I swear, naebody reads the code ‘o conduct ony mair.” “I asked him if he did, and he said yes, but I know he’s lying,” You roll your eyes before adding on, “And you know what? I’ve only had issues with British people ever since you and Gaz started reporting people to me. I think that they’re just the issue.”

“Jesus, I ken,” Soap mutters, “Fuckin’ Brits.” “Fuckin’ Brits.” You nod in agreement, before sighing and looking over at the rest of Soap’s platoon. You look back at him, “I also told Williams to actually refer to you as ‘Captain MacTavish’, so… there’s that.” “Guid, guid,” Soap nods, before clearing his throat and continuing,

“So did ye only come here tae yell at mae?”

“Yeah.” You admit, making Soap laugh lightly.

“And yer done now?”

“… I guess,” You mutter, making him chuckle and pat you on the shoulder.

“Guid,” He says, looking over at his group of soldiers he’s meant to be training, “I think yer scarin’ my soldiers more than mae.”

“How can you tell?” You ask sarcastically, following his gaze to the rookies that were trying their best not to look like they were eavesdropping when they clearly were. “They don’t even know we’re talking right now.” Soap huffs out a small laugh, “Right, o’ course.”

“I’m gonna head back to my office and take a quick nap,” You let Soap know, “So don’t send me anymore people. They’re stinking up my office, it’s ridiculous.” Soap raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Why don’t you just go to your sleeping quarters?” “Don’t tell me what to do.” Soap raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, then.” You huff out a tired breath and say, “So if anyone asks where I am, just let them know that.” You don’t wait for a response before you walk away from Soap and immediately hear whispers starting up again, but you ignore them as you walk out the door, sort of used to them at this point. You didn’t know why you were so scary to some of the lower-ranked soldiers (and even some of the higher-ranked ones), considering you never intentionally did anything to scare them. Sure, you were taller than most of them, and maybe just a bit quicker to lose your temper with people, but it was never that bad.

You vividly remember Gaz and Soap when they both found out a majority of the soldiers that were apart of the 141 were afraid of you or at least intimidated by you, the two had said that they wanted you around more often, just hanging out with them, so that they wouldn’t get bothered as much by people for unnecessary things.

Scary dog privileges, you remember they’d said, laughing as they did. It’s actually where you’d gotten your call sign, Cerberus.

It’s not that you hated it at all, in fact, you didn’t mind being a little scary if it meant people were less likely to bother you, it’s just that it makes it a hell of a lot harder to actually talk to people without them starting to stammer or shake.

It was one of the reasons you turned down being a commanding officer—you didn’t really like the thought of commanding a platoon of soldiers that cowered in your presence. Plus, it was getting really annoying, not being able to talk to another soldier that wasn’t Price, Soap, Ghost or Gaz without them looking like all they wanted to do was leave the conversation.

You finally make it back to your office and let out a sigh of relief as you open the door and walk in, closing it behind you, not even bothering to lock it as you immediately walk over to the chair behind your desk and sit down in it.

You reach below your desk and pull out a nice, fluffy blanket and a fluffy pillow to go with it that you always kept in your office—just for times like this, when you felt like going to sleep in your office, for whatever reason.

Were you supposed to be napping at all? No. Would your superiors let you anyway because you’ve somehow managed to get emotionally adopted by both Price and Soap? Absolutely.

You move some of the papers cluttering your desk out of the way and set down your pillow, as well as wrapping yourself in the blanket, and sigh happily as you lay your head down onto the pillow.

Just as you’re getting comfy, you hear a knock at the door. No. You don’t get up to answer it. You just sit there, head on your pillow, nice and comfy. In fact, you refuse to answer the door, because you’ve opened it for two other people already, and God knows who you’re gonna snap at once you open that door.

Another knock—you ignore that one too, knowing full well you told Soap to tell anyone who was looking for you that you were in your office but also knowing that you never said you’d open the door, you just said you’d be there.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream into it, knowing the scream wouldn’t be too muffled with how loud it was, but doing it anyway. You then take a deep breath and call out, unenthusiastic and tired, “Come in!”

You watch the door open and see Ghost step in, and you’re silent as you watch him close the door behind him and walk over to you, his century old shitty laptop in hand as he sits down in the chair in front of your desk and sets down said laptop.

You pay no mind to it, deciding you’d rather take a nap, and set your head back down on the pillow, pretending that you can’t feel Ghost’s eyes on you. “… Are you okay?” He asks, sounding a little concerned as he looks at you bury your head into your pillow, before his concern turns into confusion as he asks, “When did you get a pillow in here— you have a blanket, too?”

“Mmph.” You don’t respond with actual words, even if you did they’d be muffled beyond relief by your pillow. You can’t see him but Ghost raises an eyebrow at you and his lips twitch into a small, amused smile.

“What, you’ve just had those in here?” Ghost asks, knowing he’ll get nothing more than a muffled hum from you.

“Mmph.” “Alright, then,” He mutters, “Keep your secrets.” “Mmph.” You feel too tired to bother responding with anything else. “I feel like you shouldn’t sleep in your office, considering you have your own sleeping quarters you can sleep in.” “… Mmph.” “That’s fair,” Ghost nods. You hear him opening his laptop and you hear it crack when it opens, the noise making you huff out a small laugh into your pillow. God, that thing is so old, it’s ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?” Ghost asks as he types in his password. You don’t say anything in response, which doesn’t shock him in the slightest. You feel yourself start to get closer to sleep, but can’t get quite there, instead sort of just hanging right on the edge of sleep.

You quietly grumble in frustration and shift a bit in your seat, not knowing what the issue is. Ghost notices this and raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t do anything about it just yet, instead getting back to his work. Why’d he have to go into your office to do his work? Who knows.

You shift again in your seat and Ghost knows that he’s not gonna be able to focus if you keep shifting—why wouldn’t he just go to his own office?—around, so he sighs and picks up his laptop and drags the chair in front of your desk with him around to behind your desk where you are.

You lift your head up to try and see what he’s doing, confused, and see him putting his chair right next to yours and setting his laptop down onto the desk.

Before you can ask anything, he gently puts a hand on the side of your head and guides it to rest on his shoulder, and—oh. This is much better, somehow.

He seems to know that it’s that much better, too, because his eyes crinkle a bit, giving away the fact that he’s smiling. However, he stays silent, and keeps his hand on the side of your head for a moment before letting it fall down to the side of your forearm, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

He opens up his laptop once again and types in his password with one hand, the typing going by significantly slower than it would’ve if he used both hands, but he decides against keeping his hand off of you, seeing as it assists in helping you go to sleep.

Are you supposed to be asleep right now? Definitely not. But like mentioned before, Price wouldn’t mind. And you’d probably laugh if Soap minded, because even if he’s a Captain, he’ll always act like a little shit. Ghost knows this too, and with this information, he figures that he might as well help you sleep, since he knows exactly how to help you sleep.

One too many nights spent pacing in your room, which eventually woke Ghost up, which led to him helping you sleep, so that he could sleep too, You sleepily remember, He always said he was annoyed by the pacing, and that’s the only reason he helped you sleep. But now, seeing what’s happening now, makes you question that a bit. Was it his annoyance, or something else? Or am I thinking too much about this?

Cutting off your train of thought is another knock at the door, and it’s not loud enough to completely snap you out of your drowsy haze but it’s enough to make you a little more aware, and for you to readjust your head your head so that your face is practically buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck. His thumb stops rubbing against your forearm, and he glares at the door like it was the door’s fault it got knocked on.

The knocking persists and neither of you say anything, just waiting on whoever it is on the other side to give up and go away, but whoever it is must be feeling pretty determined because even louder knocks sound at the door, making you and Ghost sigh in unison.

You both continue to stay silent, hoping that whoever was on the other side just goes away, but they don’t. You don’t hear any footsteps retreating, and the knocks keep coming.

“Hello?” You both hear Price’s voice on the other side, “Cerberus? You in there?” “Say no,” You mutter into Ghost’s neck. He nods and clears his throat.

“Nope!” Ghost calls out in response to Price’s question.

“… Ghost?” Price’s surprised voice comes through, “What are you doing in there?” “Say this is your office,” You murmur, making Ghost huff out a small, amused laugh and nod again.

“This is my office,” Ghost responds, “Why wouldn’t I be here?” “What? No,” Price’s voice becomes confused, “This is Cerberus’ office.” “No it’s not,” Ghost denies, lying straight through his teeth. You laugh quietly against his neck. “Uh… but it is?” Price argues, “It has their name on the front.” “No it doesn’t,” Ghost blatantly denies, continuing his thumb’s slow circle movements on your skin, the soothing action making you hum contently. You don’t know how, but somehow your humming is loud enough for Price to hear. Does he have his ear against the door or something?

“I can hear Cerberus in there,” Price argues again, “Don’t lie to me.” “Sorry, lamb,” Ghost apologizes to you softly, tone significantly more soft than it typically is, “I think he’s caught onto us.” “… I guess it’s fine for him to come in, then,” You mumble against his neck. He responds with a nod.

“Come in!” Ghost calls out, and almost immediately you hear the door open and Price’s loud footsteps walking in. You can’t see him, but he opens his mouth to say something, when his eyes catch on your face buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck.

He looks questioningly at Ghost, the latter simply blinking over at Price, daring him to comment on it.

He doesn’t, and instead closes the door behind him and walks up to the desk.

“Cerberus?” He asks. You hum offhandedly, and he takes that as a sign to continue, “You okay?” “Mhm.” “You know you can sleep in your own sleeping quarters, right?” “Mhm.” “And you’re choosing not to?”

“Mhm.” Price blinks at you for a moment before muttering, “Alright, then,” under his breath and turning to Ghost, “And you’re here because?” “Felt like having some company,” Ghost answers simply, watching as Price glances at his thumb rubbing circles into your forearm, and continues to watch as his eyes slowly make their way up to the way your face is buried in the crook of his neck.

Price looks at Ghost, mouthing the words, ‘I’m telling everyone about this,’ to which Ghost mouths back, ‘Don’t you dare.’ Price grins at this and opens his mouth to say something else before there’s another knock at the door.

“Are you always this popular?” Ghost asks you, sounding both mildly annoyed and amused.

“Mhm.” You hum affirmatively.

Ghost sighs and he and Price call out in unison, “Come in!” The door opens and you temporarily readjust your head so that you’re just resting your head on Ghost’s shoulder with your face facing the door, and you watch as Gaz enters the room and his neutral face turns into one of both surprise and confusion.

“Were you lot having a party in here, or something?” He asks, closing the door behind him.

“Not originally,” Ghost deadpans, watching as Gaz walks over next to Price and leans against your desk, “What’re you here for?”

“Needed an extra corrective action form,” Gaz answers. Ghost looks down at you for permission to rummage through your desk drawers and you nod.

“Second drawer to the right,” You mumble, and Ghost opens that exact one up and pulls out a CAA form, handing it over to Gaz, who takes it with a ‘thank you’ and folds it in half, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He looks between you and Ghost questioningly, and opens his mouth to say something, before Ghost gives him the same look he did to Price, and Gaz immediately snaps his mouth shut.

“If you’re tired, Cerberus, you should go to your sleeping quarters,” Price comments, tone worried. You look over at him.

“What if someone needs me, though?” You ask, slowly blinking at him.

“Kid, I don’t think anyone would get any good help from you with the state you’re in right now,” Price says honestly, ignoring the small glare you send him. “Anyone who needs you can just refer to someone else.”

You hum neutrally and sigh before muttering, “Fine,” and tentatively take your head off of Ghost’s shoulder and unwrapping the blankets you’d wrapped around yourself earlier, bundling it into a little ball and putting it into the box under your desk, putting the pillow in there as well.

You crack your knuckles quickly and get up from your seat, quickly putting your hands on the edge of your desk to steady yourself, standing up on slightly shaky legs. “I can help you get over there,” Price offers, frowning a bit when you shake your head negatively. Ghost lets out a sigh and stands up, closing his laptop before quickly walking over to you and wrapping an arm loosely around your side, over your arm, pulling you closer to him and helping you stand up a bit straighter. Gaz observes all of this with a raised eyebrow but otherwise says nothing, instead watching with Price—who watched this with disbelief in his eyes—as Ghost walked with you to the door wordlessly, opening the door and walking out of it with you, not looking back as he closes the door behind him. “You think everyone’s gonna think Cerberus is all scary after they see them leaning on Ghost trying to get back to their sleeping quarters?” Gaz asks Price, staring at the closed door. “Somehow, yeah,” Price says after a moment, still caught up in his disbelief, “That is… the strangest thing I’ve seen all day.” “It’s only thirteen, Captain.” “I don’t think anything’s gonna top that.” “Top what?” Gaz asks, a little confused, “Seeing Ghost helping out Cerberus?” “Yeah.” Gaz huffs out a laugh and pats Price’s shoulder, “Jesus, man. I’m surprised that’s the first time you’ve seen that.” Gaz ignores Price’s confused look and walks towards the door, opening and closing it as he walks out, leaving Price dumbfounded in Cerberus’ office. “Huh?”

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linos-luna · 11 months

Note

Hii I love ur fics and I was wondering, if u have the time, can u write seungmin x small reader? Wit seungmin being very possessive and intimidating you wit his tall height and infantilizing you? Ty smm💖 <3

Sorry it took forever. My life has been so chaotic lately 😅

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Just a Baby 🔪

Yandere!Seungmin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: infantilization, Yandere

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You hadn’t been dating for long but we’re already moved in. Actually, you were forced to move in. You didn’t really have much of a choice. Seungmin wanted you to be with him 24/7. You were just so small and fragile! He has protect you! Or at least that’s what he thought…

He was possessive and scary when mad. He could easily loom over you and scare you into submission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 🎀

Coming back from the grocery store with bags in hand, you opened the door to find your boyfriend standing there, angrily looking down at you.

“Where were you, babygirl?”

“I… I went shopping… we needed food…” you said while putting the bags down. You had gone out while he was at work. You wanted to go out on your own but your boyfriend never let you.

“All by yourself??” Seungmin said while taking your arm. “You could’ve gotten hurt!”

“I can take care of myself…” you frown as he pulls you to the couch.

“Oh baby…” he shakes his head while sitting you down and crouching down to your level. “You just don’t know anything, huh?”

“Seung—”

“Just a baby…” he said while pinching your cheek, making you whine.

“Seungmin stop!” You stand up but freeze as he does the same.

“Or what?!”

His voice was loud in the quiet room and it scared you, making you quiet.

“That’s what I thought…” he said while wiping a tear from your cheek.

You tried walking away but he grabbed you from behind and gave you a tight hug.

“I think you’re just tired. That’s why you’re acting up…”

“No… let me put away the groceries…” you said with a sigh.

“I think it’s time for a nap.” He said with chuckle.

“No seungmin, I don’t want a nap!” You said before he suddenly lifted you up.

“No! No! No!” You yelled, squirming around in his arms before he threw you on the bed, pinning you down. His hand was big enough to hold both your wrists tightly over your head.

“Stop it!” He snapped. “Stop it or you’re going on time out!”

You only looked at him with tears in your eyes. The way he was holding you down was scary, especially how he used his other hand to hold your waist down, making it so you could barely move.

“Hm… I could never be mad at you.” He said with a sigh. “You’re just too cute. So small and perfect… like a little doll…”

You didn’t know what to say at his sudden shift in mood and only nodded.

“After all, your just a baby… don’t know anything, right?”

You nodded again and Seungmin let go of your wrists, then gently kissing your lips.

“You shouldn’t have gone out without me…” he said calmly with an odd, unsettling smile. “Someone could hurt you…”

“I’m… I’m sowwy…” you responded, hoping it’d make him happy.

“I know you are.” He said while rubbing your cheek. “Now… it’s naptime.”

“Okay…” you said quietly as he gets off of you and you lay your head on the pillows.

“I’ll be back in an hour.” He said with a smile.

You lay on your side and say nothing. Your heart was pounding and you just wanted him to leave the room…

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop imagines #fanfic #stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids yandere #stray kids seungmin #kim seungmin #seungmin x reader #yandere seungmin #skz #skz yandere #stray kids x poc reader #Seungmin x poc reader #kpop yandere #yandere skz #stray kids smut #seungmin smut

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mechaknight-98 · 4 months

Text

Masquerade Part II (NSFW) FT. Sejeong

Authors: Note this lovely lady is going kill me with how stellar she is.

Part I here

“Of course but not here,” Sejeong says as she continues to drive. We arrive at a small house on the outskirts of the city. Sejeong parks in the driveway and gestures for me to follow her. So I do. While entering the house I notice a flicker of golden letters. I couldn't see what they read as they flickered too fast for me to read. Sejeong noticed my stopping and trying to read before smiling. “A learner through and through,” she whispered I looked at her after hearing her say something, “They are Runes of protection. Have to have at least one safe space,” she said I nodded and followed her in. The house was quiet as I walked in. The only sound present was the clicking of shoes on the ground as she walked to her couch. She sat down and invited me to sit next to her. I do.

“So you wanted to know about my story?” I nod enthusiastically. Sejeong smiles.

“Well, when I was a young girl my mother would always marvel at my talent at bringing people joy. She was always encouraging me to grow and foster that talent. So I did. I saw how hard my mother worked and wanted to push myself so she could walk...” Sejeong began

“A flower path” I finished

“Oh so you know a little bit of my story,” Sejeong said with an infectious smile “So tell me yours Mr hybrid.”

“I come from an average home with two loving parents both spiritual leaders who give constantly and work tirelessly for others. I'm the only son so similar to you I had to be the one to succeed to push forward, but life had different plans. I met a warlock. He made me an offer. I took it, and now I'm on the run from everyone.”

“Wait so that's how you're a curse bearer?” Sejeong asks

I nod. Her face softens as she looks at me. “How did you figure it?” out I asked

“Well, your body has the hard almost crust to it in several spaces that aren't natural,” Sejeong explains. Her voice is incredibly soothing despite the raspiness it has. I honestly could listen to her talk for hours, listen to her talk for hours“But why willing to take on a curse?” She asks.

“Well because power and regality scare people. I didn’t want to be scary anymore.” Sejeong hugged me tight hearing that, and said, “You shouldn’t let others dictate who you are.” I smile contently and nod

How long do you have left?”

“Three years give or take unless I can get the curse removed,” I explain. Sejeong smiles mischievously

“Well, then we have our first date.”

“I thought the fried chicken was the first date?”

“Technically sure but that's date 0 curse breaking will be date 1.” Sejeong joked. I laughed with her

“Okay,” I said

“Now the important question. How have you not gone crazy yet?”

“Crazy is a relative term.”

“No, it’s not. Most curse bearers go crazy after 3 years and If I heard legends about you and if they correct you’ve been cursed for 6 years at least.”

I chuckled and replied it was 7.” Sejeong looked at me in awe

“I guess I was always crazy then.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Well…”

“No crazy is Blaine the warlord. All you have done is fight for other people, and to protect yourself.”

I smirk and say, okay.”

Sejeong leans into my shoulder as we sit on her couch quietly. I turn to face her and she just gives me a bright smile and at this point, I’m smitten and overwhelmed by how sweet and aggressively hot she is. So to take my mind off my growing attraction to her

“Hey Seji tell me more about you. Like what’s something you can’t live without?”

Sejeong looks at me with a teasing smirk, “Seiji?” she questions

“I'm so sorry. I butchered your name.” I say in embarrassment changing my affectation. To my surprise Sejeong doesn't shy away instead she pulls me closer.

“No, I like it, and to answer your inquiry I can't live without love. She says before kissing my cheek. After she breaks it she looks me in the eyes and says “What can't you live without.” everything about her is drawing me in. A little voice rings in my head saying “Go for it.” so I kiss Sejeong on the lips. It's rudimentary and chaste because I haven't done this a lot but Sejeong takes it one step further. She kisses me back after whispering with confidence, “Gotcha.”

My mind instantly locks in on that and I break this kiss, “wait was this a prank?” I ask terrified. Sejeong laughs which makes me feel miserable until she looks at me. She smiles brightly at me,(making me feel ten times better) and says “No this is not a prank.” before kissing me again. “I want you,” she says in between longer more fevered kisses. “You want me,” she adds after breaking another kiss and biting my lip. She stares at me. Eyes alight with adoration and lust, “Why waste time.” she said, “Why waste time” I agreed. We continued kissing as she began to grind on me. I feel myself grow under her ministrations. She guides my hands to the side of her face where they rest as I let her tongue explore my mouth and dominate my own. She breaks the kiss off and stares into my eyes.

“You know I have never seen such sad eyes brimming with such optimism,” she said staring lovingly. Confused I looked at her. Sejeong smiled saying “In your eyes, I see so much hope and so much unbridled calm but also such deep sadness. It's adorable.” she said as she undressed. I follow suit then follow her to her bedroom. She pushes me onto the bed before whispering into my ears, “Relax dear let me ruin you.” to punctuate her seductive statement Sejeong blows into my ear and lightly nibbles on it. My body jolts from the foreign sensation in response. Sejeong adjusts and says “Oh you liked that.” my body further submits to her care as she gently rubs the tip of my cock.

What do you want first my pussy, my tits, my ass, or my mouth?” Sejeong asks with eyes wide. I groan as she leaves a lone finger graze the entirety of my cock. I gazed into her eyes as she smiles at me and groan as she continues to tease me with her hands before yelling, “Fuck Seiji you pick.” Sejeong smiles as she lowers her chest down to my cock.

With a wicked grin, Sejeong wraps her tits around my dick and begins to go for it. “Ah fuck.” I moan her pillowy breasts are luxuriant.

“Oh someone’s close. Go on then cum for me.” Sejeong says smirking. In a continuation of my body’s submission to her every whim I explode over her perky tits. As she continues way past overstimulating pain she just smiles and gets up. “Start stroking.” She says I do as she lays flat in front of me. When she gets comfortable she stares back at me.

“Tell me something that excites you.”Sejeong demands. Still Overwhelmed from the previous Orgasm my brain says the truth but probably not the correct answer.

“Ultraman is the greatest piece of fiction I have ever had the pleasure of being exposed to,” I say in a lusted stupor. Sejeong paused for a moment to process what I said, then her eyes grew wide with intrigue. “The Giant Gray alien guy,” she said as she nestled closer. My eyes widen in joy with her recognition as I nod. Sejeong smiles and begins to play with herself.

“What’s your favorite series she says as she rubs her clit.”

“I know it's not popular but Taiga 100%.” Sejeong smiles even greater as she keeps her intense and lusty gaze

“Tell me why.” She says as she continues to please herself. The squelching noise of her pussy audibly and fueling my overwhelmed mind

“Taiga despite being the son of one of the most famous of the ultra brothers often has the roughest go in his series. He is constantly pushed by those around him and often struggles with the burden of strength to protect those weaker than him. This along with his stylish demeanor and show-off personality have always resonated with my struggles of being the son of a priest.” Sejeong smiles and says

“Oh god.” And her orgasm hits her like a truck.

The air shifts radically Sejeong opens her legs revealing her pussy glistening and gleaming. I walk over enraptured by her aura and charisma. Her body is insane but the way she smiles at me makes my heart flutter innocently despite the fact she’s beckoning me to ruin her pussy.

“Come on take the cock out and claim me.” she coos legs splayed as she plays with her clit. Sejeong’s eyes are wide with desire. I approach and align my dick with her slit and tease at first but Sejeong had an appetite that needed to be slaked now. She takes hold of my cock and plunges it into her pussy.

“Oh god yes,” she says as we begin to rut in syncopating rhythms. Her pussy was sopping and if I were to describe the experience it would be a gentle hug on my dick. A gentle warm wet hug. Sejeong locks her legs around my waist as we continue, finding a nice peaceful rhythm that stimulated her enough for her to get what she needs and kept me from cumming too quickly. Sejeong smiled as we coupled, “You know I’d never take you for a softie.” She said I had zoned out at one point focusing on the trance-inducing sway of her breast as we fucked. She lifts her hand to my face and moves my face to be eye level with hers and smiles, “I like that smile on you.” She says before bringing me in for another kiss. After she says, “Go ahead cum whenever.” As if responding to her command my body shuddered and released into her. This in turn causes a cascading effect that triggers her orgasm. She cums so forcibly that it ejects me out of her pussy violently. I lean back hoping to recover. Sejeong wiggles closely and embeds herself under my left arm in a tight embrace.

“Thanks, Danger I needed that.” She says before going to sleep peacefully in my arms. I lay awake for a while as the revelation that I loved this girl I had only known for 4 hours sank in.

“Shit” I whisper to myself

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #kim sejeong #sejeong smut #ioi sejeong #smut

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my-corneroftheworld · 2 years

Text

Child without love

Summary: Namor finds a marine biologist with the powers to control water and deep knowledge of the sea and is intrigued.

Word count: 1,1k

Tags: Smut in later chapters (no minors allowed), "water-bender" reader x Namor after the events from Wakanda forever, possessive Namor, mutant reader, talk of climate change, asphyxiation, the deep sea being a bit scary, war, violence, harsh language, Wakanda forever spoilers, the usage of y/n, afab reader

Ps. if you read the preview before you can start reading after the divider. I barely made any changes other than grammar-related and wording. If you want more chapters I would greatly appreciate some constructive criticism in the comments

Masterlist

Chapter 1

I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes. "You can't just go behind my back like that! There are set rules and hierarchies that keep our organization running smoothly!" Adeoye yelled while he was walking frantically back and forth. He never could handle stress well. " You're little outburst may have cost us our one shot to get the right people's attention!"

I want to say I'm sorry and that it was rude and petty of me. But I couldn't because I did what I thought was right. They have ignored our every attempt to better their policies and today's presentation only opened my eyes to how blissfully ignorant they allowed themselves to be. He stopped his pacing and rubbed his eyes under his big ill-fitting glasses.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked abrasively. I knew that he wasn't really angry at me. He was frustrated with everything. The board director's nonchalant attitude, the over-looming doom of the deadline we've got in 2 months and my little outburst were certainly not making things better.

"No" I answered.

"Well if that's the case then you give me no choice other than to suspend you for 2 weeks" he sighed. I wasn't surprised. Cussing out the board due to their lack of ethical consideration whilst ignoring every warning I and others have worked tirelessly on proving wasn't really considered to be professional. " I understand," I say solemnly and start picking up my notes. 5 years of studying and 3 years of diligent work have come to this, being pushed aside so that rich people can profit off of dangerous means at the cost of the health of our seas. And having no power to change anything

I drove home in silence, with nothing but the wind from the window creek as my companion. I think I'll have to practice today to let off some steam. After arriving and leaving my notes by the kitchen counter, I changed into my swimsuit and went down to the beach. Moving here was mainly so I could get to work within 15 minutes but having the sea outside my back door has definitely changed my life. I never liked using my powers in front of others. Mutants aren't really welcome unless they're wearing suits and have fancy names. So there aren't many moments where I can use them to their fullest extent. When I do I feel at home. I feel free of everything. My worries and concerns are washed away.

Once I reach the water I breathe in and allow myself to feel its pull. Imitating the waves with my hands till it starts to imitate me, following my every command. I slowly start walking in allowing myself to be surrounded then I dive keeping the water from reaching my face and requiring no movements though I still haven’t passed 5 minutes at a time. Maybe I’ll make it at 6 today. I decide to explore a little further than usual, seeing what I can find on the sea floor and cleaning up small things that shouldn’t be there.

It was then I noticed it. The entity that has been watching me from afar. It barely moved and I couldn’t really make out its shape. But I knew it was looking at me and it stayed completely still. I was scared. My bubble was slowly shrinking so I began to slowly make my way back to shore. As soon as I did the shadow got closer and closer which made me anxious to reach land. I finally burst into the sea, gasping for air. I lay down on the beach, trying to catch my breath then a voice called out.

“Who are you?”

______________________________________________________________

I quickly turned around and faced what seemed to be a man. Out of panic, I summoned water at my side and launched it at him with full force. He then began to levitate and dodge my advance with.. wings attached to his feet? Shocked I ceased fire and looked at him again. He was otherworldly. His dark eyes stared at me with a hint of confusion and irritation. His hair was a dark brown and wet from the swim, framing his face ever so slightly. The sunset made his warm terra-cotta skin glow along with his pearls and gold accessories. He was beautifully serene, like straight out of a dream. If I didn't know any better I would’ve thought that he was a god. As I scanned his body so did he with mine before stopping at my eyes demanding an answer to his question.

“Who are you?” He asked again urgently, stepping closer to my frame. I tried to move back as a response.

“I- I’m y/n l/n.”

“That is not what I meant. I mean where are you from? Are there more of you?”

“I’m from here. I’m not sure what you mean by more of me” I answered hesitantly. Why is he asking all these questions? I mean from the looks of he’s most definitely some kind of mutant. He’s a bit too good of a swimmer to think otherwise. Not to mention the literal full-functioning wings at his feet.

“More who can manipulate water.” he clearifies.

“No.. I mean none that I know of” I say and start rising slowly from the ground. “Who are you?.. Are you perhaps like me?” I have never met another mutant before. Let alone someone connected to water. Hope starts swelling up. Maybe..just maybe I am not alone.

“No I am not like you. As for who I am it is not for you to know.” He says bluntly. And just like that my sliver of hope is gone. “Then what do you want?” I ask while noticing he’s pointed ears adorned with what seemed to be jade earrings.

“That is yet to be decided.” He begins circling me around slowly. “There are threats that are making it hard for me to perform my duties and your power, though meager, may develop into what I need to avoid any more...complications.”

Duties? Complications? What the hell is he talking about? He studied my face, assessing it possibly looking for a way to find out what I was thinking. Does he work for the government? Is that it? I’ve heard of mutant agents who were forced to do sketchy shit that higher-ups didn't want to be associated with.

“Sorry, I’m not interested. Though I am grateful for the consideration to recruit me, I have my own “duties” to attend to.” After voicing my intentions I decided it was best to leave. As soon as I turned around I heard him say. “I’m afraid I cannot take no as an answer” and before I could react, everything went dark and my last thought was how warm he felt in his arms as he took me back to the sea.

#kukulcan #ku'kulkhan mcu x reader #namor x reader #mcu namor

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darnell-la · 8 months

Text

Toxic Kooks get what they want.

word count: 2.1k

paring: dark!Rafe Cameron x Reader x dark!Topper

warning: cnc, dark content, rough face fucking, public cnc, hair pulling, gagging, humiliation, etc.

note: If you do not like anything that involves SA/CNC, do not continue, and do not think differently about the stories you like that we post. We have different authors on this page. We apologize if this is disappointing.

This is a mini-series as well so like, comment, and repost if you guys would like a part two!!!!!!

I DO NOT CONSENT TO OUR WORK BEING TAKEN.

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3rd person pov

Living the life of a Pogues is hard. Especially when you only catch feelings for Kooks. There’s only one type of Kook and those are the ones y/n recommends no one falls for. The cocky and stuck up Kooks.

You see, y/n used to lead Rafe on. She wasn’t sure about what she wanted you to do until she realized that he was not for her.

He’s argued too much about not being able to have sex with her, or even touch her. She wasn’t ready for someone like Rafe to touch her. They usually leave after they get what they want.

It became an everyday argument, so she decided to stop talking to him. That’s when she started talking to JJ. Rafe grew mad and threatened her through social media and even at parties or whenever he saw her.

Scotlynn's pov

“Are you scared yet?” JJ asked as John B parked in front of the outside movie theater. “I love scary movies, JJ. I keep saying this,” I playfully rolled my eyes, knowing he’s the one who’s actually scared.

“Well see when you ask me or Pope to sing you a bedtime story, later tonight,” JJ joked as we all laughed. “Ha ha, very funny,” I said as we all got out of the car to make our way to the best spot on the grass before the Kooks got here and took up space.

Me and JJ continued poking fun at each other as we grabbed our things to set up in the grass. JJ offered to carry most of my things, and I let him. He’s been trying to get at me and I’ve been accepting it.

I’ve caught myself staring at him a lot recently. I’ve also felt like I couldn’t go a day without seeing him. I hope he hadn’t noticed, but it’s pretty obvious I like him back. Probably more than I think I do.

“When a man’s around you, you shouldn’t be paying, y/n,” JJ said as he gave the lady who gave me my food, some cash. I put my wallet away with a sigh because he knows I hate when people pay for me.

“Don’t worry. You can pay me back with a date. How about that?” He basically asked me out, making me smile. “Fine, but only because I have to pay you back,” I rolled my eyes as he chuckled.

JJ and I walked back to the group and began to eat and talk before the movie started. JJ was already scared but accused me of being scared, so he pulled me into him. Now we’re cuddling, and Sarah’s smirking at me from the side.

After several sips of my drink, I decided I had to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered to JJ as I slowly got up and ducked through people sitting down in their areas so I wouldn’t disrupt the movie too much for them.

I quickly made my way through the big parking lot and to the bathroom, I didn’t know was this far. I hate when people put bathrooms far away from outside movie theaters. Anything can happen.

I quickly went into the mini bathroom building and did my business. I flushed and washed my hands, then fixed myself up in the mirror, hoping to look more presentable to JJ when I came back.

“I should have brought gum with me,” I said to myself as I made my way toward the front door of the restrooms. I opened the door, just to meet Rafe and Topper waiting outside of it.

“Jesus Christ. What now, Rafe?” I asked, annoyed that he always finds a way to catch me alone. “Date with JJ Maybank? Really, y/n? Couldn’t get any lower than that?” Rafe asked, seeming upset for absolutely no reason at all as always.

“What does that have to do with you? I’ve never dated you, and even if I do, I can do whatever I want now since I’m single. Now, piss off,” I said then went to pass him, but he got in my way.

“Topper, don’t tell me he got you into this. Sarah is literally one of my closest friends. She’d be upset,” I said, hoping Topper would talk Rafe out of this like usual.

“That line won’t work anymore, princess. He’s on my side. Especially after the deal I offered him. It’s hard to say no to it,” Rafe said as he tilted his head to get a look-up sundress I was wearing.

“You’re sick, Rafe. Sick in the fucking head,” I said, then rolled my eyes and went to take a different way out of this mess until Topper got in my way, which is very surprising.

“Don’t, y/n,” he said, sounding slightly threatening, but I didn’t care. I didn’t catch it too fast. “Topper, don’t fuck with me, okay? I’ll have Sarah on your ass, and I know how much you hate that shit. Now get out of my way,” I went to walk past again but he slightly pushed me back with a chuckle.

“All the times I’ve helped you out of his situations. All the times I prevented something from happening, and you still give me that bitchy attitude. Shows how much of an ignorant bitch you are,” Topper surprised me with his words.

“Thought I was the only one who noticed,” Rafe joked, making me grow angrier. “Fuck toy both,” I said. I didn’t even get a chance to my feet before Topper gripped my neck and pulled me close to him.

“Straighten that shit up, before I do it for you,” he threatened, surprising me even more. “Topper!” I tried yelling but his hand was too tight around my neck. He’s so strong.

“Don’t start, y/n. I’m giving you a chance to behave and accept that someone like you, isn’t for JJ. You’re for me-“ I went to say but I quickly kicked him hard in his crotch. As soon as he let my throat go, I took off.

“Fuck,” Rafe cussed under his breath, not wasting time to run after me. I ran through cars and around them to make more space between us, knowing he was way faster than me. He almost had me when we first started running.

I just hit the grass, close to the people sitting down but not close enough. The movie’s too loud for them to hear me if I yell and it’s too dark for them to see me running.

I went to try and yell until I was pulled back and my mouth was covered. “Ah uh,” Rafe said as he dragged me backwards. I kicked and screamed but they were muffled. I went to kick more aggressively but he quickly pushed me off of him, grabbed a handful of my hair, and threw my face into a tree.

I fell to the ground and whined in pain as tears filled my eyes. I’ve never felt pain like this before. I touched my forehead, hoping a scar might not be left. I felt blood…

“Rafe, what the fuck!” I cried out. I tried getting up but felt dizzy and fell back down. “Be if you didn’t pull that bullshit, I would have been easier. You’ve pushed my buttons enough,” Rafe said as Trooper walked up from behind him.

“My truck. She pissed me off for the last time,” Topper said as he came up to me and grabbed me. “No, let me go you bastard,” I whined, feeling pain every time my brain worked too much. Topper threw me over his head and then walked off with me.

Rafe smirked at me behind Topper's back, knowing he was up to no good. “Put me down! Where are you taking me? Let me fucking go!” I tried being loud but they just laughed.

“Trying to stay tough? We’ll see how much of a tough girl you are once I break you,” Rafe said. “What?” I asked, confused but they ignored me since I didn’t really give a full question for them to ask me.

“Open it up,” Topper said, sounding heated, but that’s not my problem. He put his hands on me and got what he deserved. Now it’s Rafe’s turn once I get a hand of myself.

“Give us a hard time, and it’ll get worse, do you understand?” Topper asked right after he dropped me in his back seat. “Fuck you,” I said, full-heartedly, making him grab my ankles and pull me out of his truck.

I fell to the ground, hitting the back of my head on the way down, making Rafe laugh in disbelief. He couldn’t believe how Topper was acting. It’s like he loves seeing this side of him. Like he’s been waiting.

“You’re gonna learn some fucking manners,” Topper growled under his breath as I heard him fondling with his belt-hand jeans. “I thought you had some, but you clearly don’t Kook,” I said harshly as I tried to keep my vision focused, but couldn’t.

Seconds later, Tooper harshly grabbed my hair, causing me to whine in pain but they were soon stopped by his cock being forced into my mouth. I screamed, trying to wiggle away, now noticing what they’d been trying to do, but it was too late. I’m here now, alone and far away from the crowd.

“You talk a lot for a girl who struggled taking cock,” Topper thrust his hip harshly to force himself further into my mouth. I tried begging him to stop but he only pushed further until he was completely down my throat.

“Fuuuck!” He groaned as he hunched over to rest his hand inside of his truck. “Shit… This is cheating,” he said, going to pull out but his knees bucked as my lips moved along his shaft.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he said under his breath as Rafe came up. “Just do it. You’re already here. Besides. We ain’t tell Sarah. I’ll make sure of it,” Rafe basically threatened. “Y-You promise?” Topper stuttered at me trying to relax him in my throat, but couldn’t.

“I promise bro, just fuck her mouth. It doesn’t even count,” Rafe said, which is a lie. “Fuck! Thank you, bro,” Topper thanked before he continued his assault.

“No, no, no!” I tried screaming and pushing him off, which made my headache worse. “Finally putting that bitchy little mouth to use,” Topper looked down at me as he tighten his grip on my hair, causing me to yelp in pain.

“Better be glad I’m not stuffing your pussy full of my cum. Otherwise, you’d be a whore stuffed twice tonight by two different men. Maybe three times if JJ gets to action and realizes what a useful slut you are,” Topper said some hard words that Rafe would only say. Now I know why they’re so close.

“Should take her back to the house to do what we really want to her. Maybe then she’ll realize how easy it is to get what we want,” Rafe said as he came up and rubbed a tear off of my cheek.

“No, no, she needs to go back to the group. Don’t want them getting too suspicious,” Topper struggled to say. He’s close. And he’s going to make me swallow everything.

“True. I’ll get my chance another time. We see how easy it is, after tonight,” Rafe chuckled as he backed up and Topper’s thrust got sloppy. I squeezed my eyes shut as Topper groaned loudly and slammed all the way down my throat to release.

“And you swallowed it. How pathetic,” Topper said as he pulled out. He pushed my head away, causing my body to lay out on the floor once again. I thought it was over until Rafe pulled me up to my feet and then sat me down on the edge of Topper's trunk.

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll have all of Figure 8 after your pretty ass, do you understand?” Rafe threatened again. I nodded as tears rolled down my cheek.

Rafe stuck his tongue and dragged it across my face, licking up all of my tears until he reached my mouth to make out with me. I didn’t want to. He made me. I stayed still and stiff and didn’t move my lips as he went to work.

I can’t believe he’s huffing and puffing while doing this. He’s turned on and gripping my waist. How could they be okay with this?

I’m now at home, lying beside JJ after the long night out. I had to tell him the bathrooms had long lines. He asked me about the blood on my face, and I lied. I told him “You know how I am? I hit my damn head on the bathroom stall,” and he believed it…

Part two!

part three!

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