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shiningjustforreid · 5 months ago

Text

stains

glimpses through fem!reader and Spencer’s relationship, through four instances of spills.

word count: 3.5k ish

a/n: i love the idea that for some of us, our personalities are made up all the things we like about the people we know and see. the idea that we’re all little bits and pieces of the things we love, and our experiences. this sort of explores that. (also this was mildly self indulgent because much like reader i’m a klutz!) <3

warnings/tags: 18+ for implied intimacy and canon typical violence for cm, pet names up the wazoo, reader is lowkey clumsy, Derek Morgan being himself, reader gets injured but she’s fine, who’s Maeve?, anxious love confession, Spencer adores reader so so much, S1 and S6 (ish) Spencer, Spencer in and post prison, love letters, marriage, kids, and briefly mentioned pregnancy, girl dad!Spencer Reid my beloved

- ✩ -

coffee - the first stain

To be honest, at first, he’s appalled.

The mug you set down on his desk isn’t his, so God knows whose mouth was on it last. You - somewhat carelessly - plopped it down on the file he’s working on, grinning that thousand watt smile he’s secretly become fond of. You’re wearing a sweater he noticed that brings out your eyes - a berry colored wool garment that he wishes you’d wear more.

“Hey! Morgan said you were exhausted. Thought I’d make you coffee.”

You pick it up, and set it down again, for emphasis, and a few drops make their way down the side and onto his case file, surely creating a cinnamon toned half circle that Hotch will not love. You don’t notice, watching his face.

“I made it with a bunch of sugar. Just how you like it, right?”

Suddenly, he realizes he’s been staring up at you, and then his mouth is moving faster than his brain.

“Yeah, I uh, I am pretty tired, now that you say it. Didn’t sleep well, long night, you know?”

You nod, sipping your own coffee, fingers wrapped around the ceramic.

“I get that. Goes with the job, right?”

“Oh, absolutely, yeah, I- wait, Morgan said that? Did he— what else did he tell you?”

You grin, coffee mug to lips again.

Stop staring, Reid.

“Nothing, really. Just said you needed a boost. Thought I’d provide.”

Titling your head a tad, you look down, a mild panic crossing your face when you see you’ve stained his file.

“Oh my God - Reid, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

He’s quick to shake his head, hands coming up to reassure, his eyes wide.

“No no no, it’s okay, truly, I-I made a mistake on that one anyways. I’ll need to have a new copy printed, honest.”

Frowning, you look him over, searching for a tell, something to let you know whether he’s lying or not.

“Are you sure? I can do it, I’m not that behind on mine, I could—“

Before he thinks - you’d assume, with all his brains, he would - his hand grabs your arm, that gorgeous sweater under his finger tips, his eyes locked with yours. He says your name, once, his tone more serious than he’d like.

“It’s okay. Thanks for the coffee.”

You blink, and then a slow grin takes over your face.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need more.”

For a moment, neither of you move, the heat of his hand burning through the wool on your arm, until he lets go like you’re the one scorching his skin, like he’s just realized that he’s touching you. You laugh a little, awkwardly, and he grins with the same level of unpracticed nerves, and you head back to your desk.

He picks up the mug, and sips slowly, closing his eyes for a moment - it does have a mountain of sweetness, the saccharine liquid coating his mouth but soothing his senses. When he sets it down again, it’s on a part of his workspace not occupied by case work. Just as predicted, the file that once housed the beverage now bears a semi circle of dried java. His pointer finger traces the stain, clockwise and then counter, for a moment, before he glances up in horror to see Morgan, of all people, signature smirk in place.

“‘Thanks for the coffee’. I don’t what’s sweeter, that coffee you just got or-“

“Shut up.”

He mumbles, face flushed, small smile on his face despite the teasing. He traces the coffee stain one last time before he hastily tucks the soiled paper away in a drawer.

blood - the second stain

“What do you mean you aren’t getting a response from her on comms?”

He’s so scared, he can’t even stop to think just how breathless and afraid he sounds, as he turns to Hotch, who fixes him with a look that clearly says, Calm down, Reid.

“It could just be non-functional, or got knocked off, or caught.”

Hotch says calmly, almost maddeningly so. Spencer swallows back the protests, the arguments that swell up in his throat like bile.

They’d created, and given the profile, and once Penelope had narrowed down the couple possible properties their potential unsub owned, you, Morgan, and Prentiss had headed into an abandoned storage facility, silent and careful.

Perhaps not careful enough.

The voice in his head reminds him, almost sadly, and he grits his teeth inside tightly drawn and chapped lips. Shaky hands smooth over his slacks, again and again, as his eyes stay fixed on Hotch.

“Ask-ask Morgan again. If she’ll respond.”

He’s given a frown, dark brows pulling together in a very typical Hotch-like manner.

“Is there a specific reason you’re asking about her, Reid?”

Is there? God, he doesn’t know. You bring him coffee nearly every morning, but perhaps that’s just kindness. Then there’s the chocolate sprinkled donuts that start his work day from time to time - maybe you just enjoy pastry treats, and think of him, when you buy one. Oh, and heaven forbid he forget the way you’ll come by his desk, and ask for clarification on a piece of paperwork or a procedure - that you probably could’ve asked Hotch or Prentiss about. You listen, active listening too, eye contact, body still - when his explanations turn into rambles about statistics about this type of criminal, your eyes watching his face, your own voice quiet.

Is he deluding himself? Seeing phantom romance where there’s maybe merely nothing but platonic affection? Blinking, once, he shakes his head in response to his Unit Chief’s question.

“No Hotch. I’m just worried, she-well, she hasn’t responded, and Morgan has, and Prentiss has, and I—“

Speak of the devil, Morgan’s voice comes through, demanding and tense.

“I need a medic. Prentiss and I secured the unsub, but, not before—“

Oh God. Not before that bastard got to you with a baseball bat, to the back of the head, you unaware before your face met the concrete below. Spencer’s not even asking for permission, snatching the keys to an SUV off the desk nearby and flooring the gas pedal.

You can’t die. Not before I—

Driving there is like hell - his lungs burn like there’s smoke and ash polluting them, and fear feels like too tame a word to describe the overwhelming panic that seizes his heart the more he drives.

I’m a fool, he thinks wildly, as his knuckles grip the steering wheel like a vice. A damn fool if I don’t tell her-

He’s barely got the thing in park before he’s scrambling out the driver’s side door, Converse immediately coated from the dusty ground outside the facility.

When he finds Morgan, and you, head lolled to the side, eyes closed, face pale as his must be, he falls to his knees with little regard for his own pain or discomfort. Morgan watches, careful, his voice gentle when he speaks, trying to calm his terrified friend.

“She’s still out, Reid. Just a nasty whack to the back of her head, okay? Easy.”

Trembling thumbs trace and hold your face, like it’s made of paper, as he swallows hard to keep the ache behind his eyes from becoming tear tracks down his face. He spots the gash, trickling crimson down your ashy skin, onto his shaking hand, but doesn’t move from holding your face. A deep contusion, furious and violet-toned, on the back of your head, makes the air leave his chest like he’s been choked.

Beautiful girl, I couldn’t stop this.

He could sob, and he nearly does, until you make some sort of confused noise and force open your eyes. Light rushes through his heart, rekindled warmth as he meets your eyes, and yet, he finds himself almost frozen.

“Spencer? What, I thought-“

“Listen to me.”

He forces himself to speak - he has too. What if he doesn’t get the chance, and all he ever gets to associate you with is caffeine, sprinkles, and a listening ear? No, that won’t do. Not in the slightest.

You meet his eyes, hazy, but listening. Morgan’s brows furrow, as he protests,

“God, man, she just woke up, let her-“

Ignored, as Spencer often finds himself doing when there’s more pressing matters than banter, than propriety.

“You need to know. That I-care about you.”

Blinking, you swallow, and suddenly, the throbbing pain in the back of your skull is slightly dimmed.

“That I can’t let another sunrise or sunset go by where you don’t know that I’d give you the stars if you’d let me. Where I can’t touch you, where I can’t make sure you understand that I’ll protect the light you have inside you until I’m burnt from it. You absolute angel, I-“

He shudders, almost afraid of his own earnest, and says your name like it’s a prayer.

“I love you. Even if you don’t return it, my heart is yours.”

Morgan’s grin is wide, and he shakes his head, almost in amazement. Your own face is flushed, as you hear sirens and medics, your voice crackly and rough from pain, but still, that smile he’s grown to associate with his heart fluttering graces your face.

“My heart is yours, Spencer. Glad you’re finally realizing how absolutely in love I am with you, you goose, even if it took all this.”

He laughs a little, almost deliriously, and smooths his trembling hand over your face.

“Guess the doughnuts weren’t enough, huh?”

You manage, and he shakes his head, quick to push back.

“They were. You’re always enough for me, no matter what you do.”

Could he sound any more smitten?

Procedure says he can’t go in the ambulance with you - there’s no need, you’re just getting stitches and some ice and he can visit you at the hospital, okay? But as he heads back to the - oh dear, still running, he really was in a hurry, wasn’t he? - car, Morgan glances sideways at him, signature smirk in place.

“Pretty boy, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Spencer stares down at his hands in his lap. They’re stained, and a grimace floods his face when he realizes it’s not dirt, but your blood, coating his fingertips. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he bites back a nastier retort than his friend deserves.

“I guess I did. I can’t believe it took-“

Morgan sighs, stopping Spencer’s inevitable incoming guilt filled rambles.

“Hush. You told her. That’s what matters.”

Glancing down at Spencer’s fidgeting hands in his lap, he presses on the gas.

“Let’s get there, so you can get that off you. I’m shocked you got all dirty, with your germ thing.”

Spencer shrugs, looking out the window.

“For her? I’d-I think I’d do anything. No matter what it stained.”

Soap finds his hands at the hospital, but he finds you soon after, unable to stop the gentle press of his lips to your forehead, or the soft murmurs that follow as he tries to remind himself that much more of your blood didn’t spill.

ink - the third stain

Emily has to physically hold you back in the court room, when they take him out, his eyes fixed on you, and the team, almost hopeless.

“Then your client is a flight risk.”

You’re quite literally fighting her, suddenly terrified in a whole new way for your boyfriend, tears staining your face.

“Bail is denied.”

She’s got both arms wrapped around you, her soft, ‘I know’s, and ‘I’m sorry’s barely heard over your own pleas for her to let you go.

“Defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

You hear someone sobbing - angry, fear-filled wailing - and until Emily has you turned around, your face in her shoulder, comes the realization that it’s you.

“He’s-Emily, what are we going to do, he’s not going to be okay, I-I can’t—“

The days that follow are dark. Going to the BAU without Spencer, let alone waking up without him beside you, is enough to send you into a spiral. You try to remind yourself that he’s worse off, that whatever hell he’s experiencing is ten times worse than your quiet fear and loneliness. So, to try to combat the weight that squashes your heart, you write him letters. Daily letters.

Spencer -

We have a case in Florida. Emily says it’ll be quick, but the Florida ones never are. We’d solve it ten times faster with you, you know? Geographical profiles are much harder alone, that’s for sure. The plane ride is quieter without you, and no one’s saying anything - you’d be saying something if you were here. Maybe that’s why we’re quiet. ♡

Every day. You don’t relent. If you can’t mail them in whatever town you get stuck in for work, you mail them in one big envelope when you get back home.

Spencer -

That case was rough. I cried twice - once when I spent over two hours staring at the map at the precinct and couldn’t find anything new, and once when Rossi accidentally snapped at me. He said he was sorry, that he’s ‘on edge’ right now - but aren’t we all? Emily’s working really hard to try to get you home. I wish I could come see you. I hope you’re safe. I love you. ♡

When you learn that he didn’t put you on the list of people who can visit him in that concrete hell, you almost lose what’s left your nerve, breaking down in Emily’s office, shaking. You don’t know whether you’re furious, in despair, or numb to it all.

“Emily, why? Why doesn’t he want me to come see him? If it was me, I’d want to see him every day, I wouldn’t want him to leave!”

She sighs, her face tight. Twisting your hands in your lap, you search her face for answers. Nausea claws at your throat.

“Honestly, my guess is it’s just that. He knows that if you come, he won’t want you to leave. It’ll hurt too much.”

“But Tara, and you, and his mother, and-

Spencer -

I think I understand. Sort of. I feel like there’s this pressure in my chest, and I can’t ever fully breathe. Not since you’ve been away. The weight on my heart never goes away. Missing you more every hour. ♡

Despite the slew of handwritten letters that reach him, you only get one back, after you and the team search his apartment - you keep it in your purse pocket, folded safe, and read it whenever your throat feels tight and your eyes burn. His untidy scrawl is enough to make you feel like a part of him is actually inside this letter - like he’s reading it himself to you, interwoven in the fibers of the paper.

Angel -

I wanted you to know I’m in solitary now - I made sure of it. I know you want me safe, almost more than I do. I love you beyond what I can say, my beautiful girl.

Yours, Spencer.

One night, you’re curled up in Spencer’s apartment, writing him a letter, as is your nightly routine. The ink stains the side of your hand now - an ever-present reminder of the fact that your heart constantly feels ripped out of your body. After addressing the letter to him, your phone buzzes - Emily.

Oh God.

“Hey. We figured out that- oh, you don’t care about all that. He’s coming home.”

She doesn’t need to tell you twice. Paper and ink pen tumble to the floor as you shove your feet in shoes and snatch your jacket off the coat tree. Tension is coiled in your body the entire way there. Ink still stains the side of your hand, a permanent reminder that every time you needed to just tell him something - you had to pick up pen and paper.

Heart in your throat, you push open the door with shaking hand. There he stands, your Spencer. He’s still him, you think, although his face is tight, and sleep clearly hasn’t been something he’s seen much of.

Three months.

You walk in slowly, body trembling. One hand reaches up, runs through the curls that have grown so long.

“Your hair.”

You breathe out, voice barely audible. He nods, his face almost impassive. Tentative fingers trail down his cheek, make a path to hold his face. He nods, and then, you notice his eyes are misty.

“My angel.” He murmurs, almost in awe, and takes you in his arms with a fervor. Crushed against him, face buried in the cool fabric of his shirt, you bite back a sob, arms threaded around him.

“No. Cry, my darling girl, I’m— I’m tired of doing it alone.”

How could you refuse him? Just hearing his voice, let alone the relief you feel at being touched by him again, is enough to satisfy you for days, you think. For a bit, all that’s heard is uneven breaths, until he speaks, his voice rough and shaky.

“I need to see your face.”

He pulls back, face shining with tears, and you swallow back the lump that just won’t leave your throat.

Calloused hands - less soft than you remember - take yours, and then he frowns.

“Your hand.”

Your right hand is held up, inspected, like the blue on the inner side of it is red instead. You smile, laughing a little, still breathless.

“Ink, baby. Just ink. I was writing you a letter.”

He shakes his head, rubbing at the navy stain with his thumb, as if that will remove it.

“I would’ve kept writing. Never given up. You’d be sick of letters from me.”

“Never, sweet girl. There is no part of me who could ever find himself sick of you.”

After you’ve come home, he wastes no time in pressing less than tender kisses to your mouth and jawline and the column of your throat. It’s not until he’s reacquainted himself with your contours and the dip of your hipbones and the soft way you gasp out his name when he does that, that has you next to him, so he can see your face.

He needs to see your face.

Hand in his, still faintly stained from ink, he examines it, and then, softly, hesitantly, he meets your eyes.

“You know ink poisoning is actually rare? Pens we use are designed with non-toxic ink, to decrease any chances of fatal ingestion.”

You never mind his information sharing, but your eyebrows furrow tiredly at his timing.

“Spence, I’m not saying I don’t care, but we just— you just—”

“Please. Let me look at the woman I love and pretend for a few moments that my damn eidetic memory won’t play back the last three months of my life like some wretched tape.”

You let him, as he holds your cobalt-colored hand and your eyes droop, his soft voice telling you that rubbing alcohol will probably get that stain out. It almost feels normal.

Almost.

paint - the final stain

“Spence! Can you get paint water out of carpet with any amount of ease?”

You call your husband, turning back to your mildly sheepish five year old, whose water color adventure on the coffee table has quickly gone south.

In walks Spencer, not even noticing the overturned hard plastic cup or purpley-blue spill, eyes going straight to his daughter’s nearly finished picture.

“Beautiful, Penny. Looks incredible.”

He murmurs, bending to be eye level with a beaming Penelope, hand on her arm, before turning to you, mild tension and stress lining your face. His smile is gentle. It’ll wash out.

“Rubbling alcohol, angel.”

You nod, tension easing from your shoulders.

“We’ll go get it - we always clean our messes up, right lovely?”

He asks your daughter, lifting her with practiced care. She giggles, nodding, as they head from the room, letting you take a breath and set up the paints and picture in a new location - the kitchen table, with some newspaper tucked underneath because she’s five, and you of all people know spills happen.

Once she’s set up again - she really is so quiet when she’s engrossed in something - you find yourself curled up with Spencer on the couch, head on his shoulder, watching her paint and sing-song to herself.

“Think she’s lonely?”

Spencer asks, turning to you, his grin wide.

Troublemaker.

“Hmm. I think you just like me pregnant.”

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your hair.

“Maybe. Maybe I don’t want Penny to be sad, ever.”

Silence, then, for a bit.

“She’s so much like you.”

Spencer muses, his fingers drawing patterns on the side of your sweater. You smile, fondly.

“You say that because I’m clumsy. She was dancing around with that paintbrush, that cup of paint water stood no chance.”

“No, I say that because she shines like you. No matter what tries to dim her.”

That night, when you peek in your daughter’s door to see Spencer reading her A Little Princess, she’s propped up against him, hazel eyes barely open. Affection swells in your chest as his voice carries on, even though she’s clearly almost in dreamland. In you walk, pressing a kiss first to her forehead, then Spencer’s. He smiles gentle up at you - this is his favorite time of the day - and keeps reading.

“Perhaps there is a language which is not made of words, and everything in the world understands it.”

Once you’re back in the living room, you check on the earlier spill from today. All that’s left is a barely visible blue spot, no bigger than a quarter.

“No one will see it but you.”

Steadying, warm arms wrap around your ribs, and soft lips press against the side of your neck, washing away any insecurity about the state of your carpet.

“Besides, stains aren’t bad, sweet girl. They’re little reminders that things happened, good things, or bad things that brought us together. Memories, attached to splotches, attached to wounds, to paper, to skin. How convenient, to carry our most impactful moments like heaven-sent tattoos.”

#spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid smut

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

Text

❝keep the change❞ myg ― m.

― summary: typically an old man works the night shift at Greg’s Place. however, it seems there’s a new cute guy working the register at night now. and it just so happens it’s finals week...

yoongi/reader | cashier!yoongi | light humor, fluff, smut | 5.3k ↬ content warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk

a/n: this fic is based off of the yoongi from my fic 1-800-Music-Street, although it can be read stand alone!

→ blog masterlist → sister fic

Your whole life was an instance of mental breakdowns and running on caffeine induced autopilot. Your eyes were burning, probably bloodshot as you stared blankly at your laptop. Sitting in a dark room with the screen on full brightness, 'that's how you'll go blind' -- you can hear your best friend ranting about it now.

As you reached into the Cheetos bag that sat on your table, you dreadfully realized that you were completely out of them. You sighed, laying your head on the cool desk to think. You wouldn't be able to continue without feeding your addiction; but it was late.

Glancing at the clock on your laptop, the little numbers read 3:52am.

The only place that was open was the little convenience store located a couple blocks away. It was a privately owned shop named Greg's Place -- sounded more like a weird frat club to you. You'd go there frequently during finals week, it was kind of a sign that the stress to maintain your 4.0GPA had arrived.

You pushed yourself away from your desk and stood up. You were dressed in loose sweats and a black t-shirt that was much too big for your frame and quite frankly you looked like a slob but -- who cares? It's finals season, you had an excuse.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a fuzzy jacket that was hung up beside your door. It was getting chilly, especially at night and since you were walking, you'd get much colder.

By the time you reached the little shop, you were regretting exiting your house. This was the most you'd been out of your house in the past week and it'd only been 10 minutes.

The little ring of the bell alerted the worker inside, which you assumed to be Youngho -- a middle aged man who you'd had the pleasure to know over the course of his 2 years working. He was a terribly boring fellow and you were positive he was going senile, not that you minded -- he didn't judge you and that's what was important.

You made a beeline for the aisle you knew contained what you were looking for; Cheetos. Just for kicks, you decided to grab the Flamin' Hot kind along with the original -- spice things up a little. You grabbed an extra monster and coffe since you were here. You were well stocked at home but more definitely wouldn't hurt.

As you made your way to the counter, you blew a stray strand of of hair that fell out of your bun from your face. You placed your things on the counter and that's when you noticed. You noticed the fact that Youngho was not the worker that was behind the counter.

No.

You wouldn't be that lucky!

While you were standing at 4am looking like the devil had drug you to hell himself, there was an incredibly good looking man about your age sitting on a stool. His eyes were glued to his phone screen and he hadn't even acknowledged the fact you were standing there.

Usually, you would have held your tongue and perhaps it was sleep deprivation, the caffeine, or maybe both mixed with your sudden racing heart -- but you spoke to him.

"Shouldn't you not be on your phone with customers in the store?"

And then, without missing a beat or even looking up from his phone...he spoke.

"File a customer service complaint, Cheeto-Girl," You nearly bristled at the name he called you before you realized the fact that his voice was fucking hot. It was deep and melodic, holding a calm and slow tempo to it. Then, he finally looked up, placing his phone on the counter and you got a look at his face; dark bangs hanging in sharp cat-like eyes and incredibly soft, pink lips. You licked your lips subconsciously at the sight, watching how he scanned your items and god, his hands! They were the kind of hands that were meant to be wrapped around your thigh in the car or wrapped around your

throat

while he --

"₩16,000.00," He spoke, sounding unbelievably bored. With trembling hands, you pulled out your wallet. You felt impossibly small underneath his intense gaze and you couldn't help but think he found you a complete idiot. This idea was solidified by your final moments of interaction with the hot guy.

You thought you had handed him the correct amount, naturally. Then, as he handed you your receipt, you made

physical contact

with his hand and you felt like you were going to throw up -- he was so warm and he smelled so good. So, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and haul ass out of the shop but he called after you.

"Wait--"

"Keep the change!" You whined, chancing a glance back at him to see him shrugging and shoving the extra bills in his pocket. You were pretty sure that was illegal but you didn't care as you tucked tail and booked it back home.

-----You wanted to spend a nice lunch with your best friend and try to forget the fact you had embarrassed yourself and that the hot guy probably called up his friends to make fun of you after his shift.

But as you relayed your story to Junkook, his wide doe-eyes fixed on you as you spoke. You felt your cheeks heating up as you revealed the way you actually ran away from him and Jungkook had the audacity to burst out laughing.

It took him far too long to pull his shit together and look at you with clear eyes again. It took him even longer to be able to respond to your story of pure shame;

“So, what you’re saying is,” Jungkook took a liberal sip of his bubble tea, obnoxiously gulping the liquid as you glared at him from across the grated table. “You made a fool of yourself?”

“You’re such a jerk!” You cried, resting your head on your arms as you folded them beneath you, trying to block out his giggles that erupted again.

The moon was full, casting light over the outside world along with the normal glow of the city. You felt the lull of sleep biting at you and you stared at your empty can of Java Monster sighing. You needed to go get some more before you ended passing out before you could complete your self made study-guide.

Giving in, you pushed yourself off the chair and made your way to the front door.

The walk to Greg’s felt disgustingly short and sure enough, just like you feared, Mr. Hot Guy was behind the counter. Maybe you’d at least get his name today, you thought.

You placed your items on the counter, having thrown an extra bag of Cheetos in the mix.

“Hi,” You ventured, standing awkwardly as Mr. Hot Guy stared at his phone screen still.

“Hey there, Cheeto-Girl,” He replied, once again not veering from the device.

“My name is _____,” You offered and this time, he looked up.

“Min Yoongi,”

You mentally did a little happy dance -- you got his name!

However, your excitement was cut short when he scanned your items and it was time to hand him the money. Anxiety kicked in and before you knew it, you were overpaying him...again.As much as you would have loved to not make a fool of yourself again, naturally you couldn't even do that.Attempting to take the change resulted in physical contact with him, making you jump and before you knew it change was scattered along the counter making deafening noises in the otherwise silent shop. The look in his eyes was almost dead, staring blankly at the coins on the counter.“K-Keep the change!” You squeaked and, once again, tucked tail and booked it.

You were such a coward!

You’d dated guys before -- plenty in fact! But there was something about Min Yoongi that had your heart racing and you were pretty sure he saw you as nothing more than a weird girl who shows up at 3am to get Cheetos and coffee; just a wreck.Then again you were positive you'd never even seen a guy as hot as him in your entire life.

What was a girl to do?

One thing was for certain in your life; and that was finals sucked. You felt the mounting strain of stress on your shoulders and you could barely get through a practice question without tearing up in frustration. You had bottled it up and now it was ready to burst.

Perhaps a break would help.

The second you stepped outside, you felt the relief wash over you as the cool night air touched your flushed skin.

You took your time walking to Greg’s Place, wanting to extend your break from studying for as long as possible.

The shock of seeing Min Yoongi working had long since passed and faded from your system. However, the heart palpitations his stupidly good looking face and careless aura gave you were still very much alive. You collected the things you usually got but also added a nice little bag of M&Ms to your list.

When you get to the counter, Yoongi is for once actually ready at attention behind it, eyes burning holes into you as you placed your items down. You, however, couldn't be bothered to even form a smile, just watching blankly as he rang up your items.

You pulled out your wallet, ready to pay when he suddenly slammed his palms down on the counter, leaning close to you.

"Alright," He sighed, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, looking straight at you with sharp eyes. "What's the matter?"

"W-What?" Your wide, startled gaze met his stern one.

"Something's bothering you," He stated, leaning onto his elbows now.

"How do you know?" You asked, poking your bottom lip out in a pout -- trying to make yourself seem more cheerful than you felt. He seemed to see right through it, however.

"Usually you're a stuttering, cute little mess," He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Now you're dead-eyed and...sad. It's gross."

You completely missed the fact he called you cute as you found yourself in a crying fit. Yoongi's eyes widened as he watched the tears travel down your cheeks, at a loss of what to do.

"Wh-Hey, no...don't cry, come on," He rounded the counter, heaving a sigh and awkwardly patting your back. It was almost laughable how bad he was at comforting you.

"I'm s-sorry," You sniffled, wiping your tears away; it was futile as more simply took their place. "I always make such an idiot of myself!"

"Huh?" Yoongi leaned down to look at your face, moving some of your hair out of the way to get a look at you.

"Y-You're cute and you make me nervous and every time I come in here I end up doing something silly like overpaying, dropping the change, running away, and now I'm crying in a convenience store at 3 in the morning!"

"We'll come back to the fact you called me cute," He chuckled, making your face heat up at your own slip up. "Don't worry, I know finals suck."

"How did you know it was finals?"

"I have a friend in college, he's been grinding like hell to prepare," Yoongi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. The mention of finals had your eyes tearing up again, which made him flounder once again. "Alright, look, how about I take you out and we can stuff ourselves silly, huh?"

"What about the store?" You asked, straightening yourself up now that you'd stopped sobbing.

"Ah, I don't give a fuck. I hate working the night shift anyway," He leaned over the counter and grabbed the keys to the store. "I know a place that's open at this time."

The place Yoongi took you to was just down the street from the store. He opened the door for you, the inside of the building smelling deliciously of bacon and syrup.

"Choose a seat," Yoongi commanded, waving his hand around the small restaurant.

You decided on a booth that was situated in the corner of the place, free from prying eyes and away from windows. To your surprise, there were a few more people inside, enjoying some late-night breakfast food; the scent of this place had you stomach grumbling eagerly.

"There's a menu," You mumbled, realizing there was already one sitting on the table. However, Yoongi didn't make any move to try and look over the menus, making you raise your brow at him in question.

"I'm here pretty much every night, I know what I want," He explained with a shrug.

"Night shift is pretty brutal, huh?" You chuckled, eyeing the breakfast platter on the menu; your mouth practically watering at the idea of that delicious bacon.

"Oh yeah, I used to just work the day shift," He fought down a smirk as he began to tell the tale. "I may have made a post on Twitter about him when Greg came to inspect and he put me on the night shift as punishment."

"Something tells me, this isn't going to make you stop posting on Twitter," Your words drew a laugh from him, giving you a glimpse of a cute gummy smile and you swear your heart stopped.

"Absolutely not,"

"Hey, Yoongi," A deep voice brought your attention to a tall bespectacled man wearing a red apron. "The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Seokjin,"

"And for the lady?" Seokjin flashed you a charming smile as he waited for your order.

"I'll just take the House Special Breakfast, please," Seokjin nodded, smiling softly as he wrote down your order. "And orange juice to drink, please,"

"You got it," He tucked away his pad and patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "It'll just be a minute."

"Thanks," Yoongi mumbled, giving Seokjin a small smile before he walked away.

"Do you know him from your nights here or..?"

"Actually, we run in the same friend group," He replied with another casual shrug.

"Here you go, you two," Seokjin returned quickly with the prepared food, placing your plates down in front of you.

The two of you ate, making small talk. You were surprised how absolutely not-intimidating he was; from his sharp gaze and sharp tongue when you met him shortly behind the counter, you had the impression he would be terrifying. But now that you witnessed him laughing and joking, you could see the spark of life in his eyes.

"So beside eating Cheetos and studying until you cry, what other things do you do?" He asked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

"I go to convenience stores at 3am frequently," You responded cheekily, making him squint playfully at you. "What's your hobby?"

"Well, I like to make music," He seemed almost sheepish as he replied, ducking his head down. "It's a kind of expensive hobby so I work at the convenience store to make money. Producing underground only pays a few bucks...only enough for a package of noodles."

"I think that's really cool," Your words seemed to surprise him, his head shooting up to look at you. "I'm so absorbed in schoolwork I can't even enjoy my major anymore. It's really nice that you're following what you like even though you don't get much money for it."

You could swear his cheeks were dusted pink up to his ears at your words. But before you could really get a look, he was standing up, tossing a few bills on the table as tip.

"I'll pay, you go wait outside," He turned his back to you, shoving his hands in his pockets again. You didn't bother arguing, your college student ass needed to save any money you could.

"Let me walk you home," Yoongi said once he joined you outside. "You can't live far, right?"

"Correct," You folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands under your jacket to keep them warm as you walked.

"It was really cool that you agreed to come out with me," He said, once you two stopped in front of your home.

"Thank you for taking me out," You could feel your face heating up at her met your gaze. "Even though I consistently make a fool of myself."

"I think it's endearing," He grinned, showing his gummy smile again.

"I think you called me cute earlier,"

"Hey," He turned his head away to hide what you assumed was a blush. "You called me cute too."

"Me and my loud mouth," You mumbled. "But...do you...want to come inside?"

"Sure," He replied quickly before he realized how fast he was. "I mean...I already closed the shop so...I'll need a place to hide when Greg comes hunting for me."

You laughed, the way he said 'Greg' sounding particularly hostile. You opened your door, allowing him inside first. When you stepped in, he was already shedding his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack as if he owned the place. He seemed oddly comfortable, not that you minded. You watched him as you shed your own coat, he peeked into your kitchen and living room, giving a small nod of approval.

"So, what do you want to do now that you have me vulnerable and alone in your apartment?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Wh--" You squinted, rolling your eyes but cut yourself off from engaging. From the look on his face, he was probably jumping at the opportunity to make fun of you. So you gracefully turned on your heels and began to sprint up the stairs, knowing he was hot on your tail.

"Oh, so this is your hermit hole?" Yoongi tucked his hands in his pockets, looking at the mess that was your desk; textbook, laptop and notebook open with pens and highlighters scattered around.

"Don't call it a hermit hole," You whined, flopping back onto your bed with a huff. "It makes me feel like a loser,"

"Hey, don't feel like that," You felt the weight shift as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. "It's really great that you're tryin' so hard. You're gonna get far in life, better than me anyway,"

"Yoongi," You sat up and placed a hand on his back, comforting. "You're doing what you love. I'm just studying when in the end my degree won't mean shit and I'll end up having a shitty office job in corporate,"

"Why do you do it then? Why don't you do what you want?" He asked, looking at you face to face now.

"Mostly to make my parents happy, to be honest," You admitted, shrugging one of your shoulders halfheartedly.

"Hmm," He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "My parents...threw me out after finding out I wanted to pursue music. I could barely afford to live properly let alone actually try to get an education, I spent a couple years living on the streets. I managed to get a few gigs to produce a track and got some money; I used it to buy clothes and get an interview at Gregs."

"Holy crap," You mumbled, shaking your head in surprise. "You're doing well now though?"

"Well enough," He mumbled. "Things are a lot better than they used to be, that's for sure. I had a couple friends who lived on the street and I kind of had to take care of them...Taehyung and Hoseok. They managed to get jobs and better they lives and so I did the same. I'm certainly not rolling in the cash but I got a little apartment, clothes on my back, and food to eat. That's about all I could ask for,"

"What if Greg fires you!?" You cried, suddenly remembering the fact he shut the store down to take you out.

"Honestly," A small smile played on his lips as he looked at you. "Greg likes me more than he lets on, he won't fire me. I've charmed my way into his bitter little heart,"

His words had you laughing, tossing your head back while he smiles.

"Can I kiss you?" The abruptness of his word cut your laughing short to stare at him wide-eyed. He was staring at you as if he hadn't just asked to kiss you, instead looking like he had just asked what you had for breakfast. Quite the bold man.

"Y-Yes?" Your response came out choked, still not fully over the shock of his sudden proposal.

His fingers were warm and a little rough as he cupped you cheek, angling your head so he could easily slot his lips against yours. His lips were incredibly soft and the few guys you had kissed in the past were nothing compared to the skillful way he pulled you into the passion. You allowed him to ease you onto your back, laying beside you as he continued to kiss you, lightly nipping your bottom lip before he laved over it with his tongue. You clenched your thighs together, feeling a pressure settling in your core the longer he kissed you.

"You're so pretty," He whispered as he pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed down at you; his pupils were blown wide and you could feel the faint hardness of his member against your hip.

He was getting turned on too.

"Yoongi," You whispered, leaning up to brush your lips against his as he hummed in response."Can I...suck you off?"

"Holy shit," He choked, flopping onto his back beside you, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck yeah,"

You felt excitement flow through you and you forced yourself to not fist pump the air in victory. You shuffled your way between his thighs, the both of you scooting up the bed to get comfortable. You reached up, holding your breath as you unbuttoned his jeans, already feeling the way he was steadily hardening beneath the fabric of his jeans.

He spread his legs to make more room for you as you tugged the waistband of his boxer-briefs down enough so his cock popped out, slapping against his stomach.

He wasn't completely hard yet but the sight of him already had your mouth watering. The tip was a pretty pink and a vein on the underside; when you wrapped your hand around the base of him, he let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Giving him a few experimental squeezes, you could feel him harden the rest of the way, his thighs trembling at the pleasure. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you needed to taste him.

The tip of his cock was like velvet on your tongue, warm and a slightly bitter taste of his precum melting on your taste buds. As you swirled your tongue around his tip, his fingers tangled in you hair with a groan.

"F-Fuck, sensitive there, baby," He nearly whined and you could have creamed your panties right then and there at the sound. You didn't torture him with over stimulation, instead taking the head of him into your mouth, sucking him generously to hear his moans. At the urging of fingering in your hair, you took him deeper into your mouth. He wasn't incredibly long but the thickness of him was causing your jaw to ache already. The thought of having him stretch you out, coating him in your cum had your cunt clenching painfully around nothing.

You whined around his cock, making him stiffen and groan, biting his lip to keep himself a little quieter. You could feel how his hips twitched faintly, as if he wanted to thrust into your mouth but was holding himself back. Relaxing your throat, you allowed him to slip deeper -- your gag reflex fought a bit but you managed to sink down to the base. Tears trickled down your cheeks but Yoongi was in bliss, tugging at your hair and groaning as you swallowed thrice around him before pulling off.

"Fuck!" He growled, sitting up suddenly, fist wrapped in your hair before he pressed his lips to yours to share a sloppy kiss. "One day, I'll fuck your throat,"

The idea and tone of his voice had you gushing into your panties; the promise of a next time making you squirm.

"Will you let me return the favor?" He asked, voice deep and dark in his words. "Will you let me eat your little cunt?"

"F-Fuck," You whined, his hand that was in your hair traveling to your neck to push you onto the bed.

As he took his position between your thighs, he reached behind himself to tug his shirt up and off his body. Your eyes soaked in the sight of his lean body with pebbled pink nipples that you longed to wrap your lips around to test the sensitivity. You lifted your hips when he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down along with your panties.

"God, so fucking pretty," He growled, dropping onto his stomach and hissing when his cock was trapped between him and the bed. You spread your legs for him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to expose your soaked slit to him. He groaned, using both of his thumb to spread the glossy lips of your cunt, hissing when you gushed. Any self control he was trying to exhibit snapped his tongue was suddenly sliding into your entrance to taste you. You cried out, tangling your fingers in his raven locks; his hair was incredibly soft you noted through your haze.

Yoongi was way too fucking good with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking the little bud into his mouth. You were trembling, your back arching in pure pleasure as he very abruptly introduced two fingers; sliding them into your clenching hole, making your nearly scream at the feeling of

finally

being filled. He seemed to know exactly what to do to find your g-spot, crooking his fingers up, making your hips arch as you whined.

"Ah, right there?" He cooed, lips detaching from your clit for a moment to watch his fingers fuck you. He spread his fingers, making you groan as he stretched you out.

"Yoongi, please," You whimpered, tugging his hair. He took the hint and kissed his way up your body to meet your lips; making you taste yourself as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His fingers didn't stop abusing your sweet spot, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Fuck," He groaned as he pulled away from you. "Can I fuck you, babygirl?"

You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave your spot one last stroke before pulling his fingers out.

"Use your words, sweetheart," He cooed, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout.

"Y-Yes, please fuck me,"

"Good girl,"

He slid off the bed to shed his jeans and underwear; you took the hint and sat up to rip off your shirt, leaving your completely nude on your bed.

"Such pretty tits," He groaned, cupping one in his hand and pinching the nipple generously, taking the moment to indulge himself.

He climbed back onto the bed, grinning when you immediately spread yourself for him. Slowly pumping his cock, he got himself comfortable on his knees. Once he was situated, you sat up on your elbows to watch the way he spread your folds with his cockhead. You sighed in pleasure as he brushed against your clit, lightly slapping the bud to watch your thighs jump.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and reached down to wrap your fingers around him, directing him to finally sink into your entrance. He didn't stop you, following your lead and sinking into you until your hips were flush together. The girth of him stretched you to the point it burned, making you whine and moan. You clenched around him, arching your hips to fuck yourself on him.

"Fuck," Yoongi cursed, leaning over you to support himself on hands beside your head. He watched the way you ground up against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the pleasure. "Dirty girl,"

Finally, he took over, pulling back and slamming himself back in, barely grazing your cervix in the process. His pelvic bone abused your clit every time he sheathed himself inside you. The way he caught your g-spot with every move had you tumbling incredibly fast to what you knew would be a mind blowing orgasm. Your thighs were threatening to close to save yourself from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel.

Yoongi, however, was having none of it. Strong hands gripped the backs of your knees and forcefully spread your legs, leaving your soaking cunt vulnerable to the torture his cock put on it. Your eyes filled with tears, your mouth falling open; you were teetering on an edge that you'd never felt before; he was going to make you cum without having to touch your clit.

It was becoming too much, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter but not releasing. Your hands pressed against Yoongi's chest to slow him down, but he only grinned and grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head.

"Fucking take it," He growled, leaning closer to you to make you look directly into his eyes. "You're gonna cum all over this cock, babygirl, go ahead. Give it to me,"

With him staring into your eyes, watching you, you finally came undone. You tossed your head back but Yoongi tangled his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again; his hips never stopping as he fucked the forced orgasm out of you. Your walls spasmed and gushed, covering him with cum that he'd love to taste one day. The sight of you cumming so hard for him sent him off of his own end and suddenly, he was pulling out of you before he came inside.

However, having him pull out so suddenly had your orgasm flying to new heights and before you even realized what was going on, the both of you were being drenched in more of your cum as you squirted. Yoongi cursed, using the head of his cock against your clit to keep your squirting as he came messily all over your cunt. You couldn't take anymore and reached down desperately to stop him, trembling all over from the pure force of pleasure you had experienced.

As you were coming down, Yoongi leaned over your exhausted body and kissed you lazily. Neither of you really moved your lips, just enjoyed the feeling.

"You wanna shower?" He asked, voice breathy from his own panting. You peeked out of one eyes and saw the tiny smile on his lips as he regarded you.

"L-Let me...rest for a minute..."

"Damn, fucked you that good, huh?" He asked, growing visibly cocky.

As much as you didn't want to boost his already apparently inflated ego, you couldn't help but admit it with a nod.

"I don't think anyone's ever made me cum like that," You admitted, looking down at your body at the complete mess that covered your skin; both his and your cum.

"The first of many, babygirl," He promised, making you shiver.

If he could fuck you like that every time then you would be a very happy girl.

"Seriously, this cum is starting to dry so let's shower," He grumbled, rolling off the bed to stand naked before you.

"Geez, you're so pushy," You mumbled, letting him pull you to your feet no matter how much like literal jelly you felt like.

"I think you like me being pushy,"

"Don't hold yourself so highly,"

"I knew the second you looked at me, you'd be smitten with me, babe,"

"H-Hey! Me smitten with you?!"

"Don't worry," He cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss your nose. "I'm pretty smitten with you too,"

"Aw," You giggled, looking up at him through your lashes.

"...Cheeto-Girl,"

"Hey!"

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts preferences #yoongi preferences #bts reactions #yoongi reactions #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi/reader #yoongi/you

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