#I was starting to like him and then this happened what the fuck

[gospelica]

"i don't think you know just what you do to me."

stepdad!kento's hands on your body are searing hot and desperate,, to say the least. he has you on the dining table, your half eaten dinner pushed aside to make room for you to sit back and accommodate your stepfathers large frame between your thighs. he's so hard it hurts, but you only have so long before your mother finishes up in the shower and comes down to join the both of you for desert.

little does she know, her sweethearted kento is having his fill of desert early. he gropes you with large hands, tweaks at your nipples as he kisses down whatever exposed skin he can find until he's face-to-face with your pretty pussy: his favourite sight. but you're needy and impatient and despite having been licked and worshipped by your stepdad for weeks now he still hasn't stretched you out on his cock.

"you could just fuck me," you whisper, as if your mother could somehow hear you over the running water of her shower upstairs. "im already wet for you..."

he shakes his head, blond hair messing a little as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh. you reach down and take his glasses off to avoid any obstacles between your sensitive clit and his eager mouth.

"you know i won't fuck you, sweet thing."

"why-" you gasp as he licks a stripe through your folds up to your clit- "why not? i want it."

"i'm your step-father. it's wrong," he presses a kiss to your clit. "improper," kiss, "an abuse of power."

"you're literally eating me out right now," you whine. "it's wrong anyways. you want it too, i know you do."

"more than anything," he hums against your pussy. "bet you feel as sweet as you taste, but it's not happening. you need to start respecting the ground rules i lay down, so shut up and let me make you cum before your mother comes back down."

you groan, but lean back on your elbows and let your legs drape over his broad shoulders. kento eats you like he hasn't just indulged himself on your mothers cooking; with needy moans pressed against your clit and lots of spit and tongue and enough kisses to tell you this isn't just sex to him. he digs his fingers into your thighs to pull you impossibly closer to his greedy tongue, but you gasp when the cold of his wedding band presses against your heated skin.

of course, he moves to take it off, mostly out of guilt, but you manage to catch his wrist in your hand before he can. you can feel his sharp exhale against your pussy as you shake your head, something filthy playing behind your eyes. "don't take it off."

your stepdad frowns and you slowly guide his hand to your heat. you mould hiring and middle finger out and press the rest against his palm and tease your own entrance with his hand as if he were only a toy. his wedding band glistens with your sweet nectar, and he can't manage to pull his hand away like he should. "you're cruel," he whispers.

"i know," you sigh and lean back, letting go of his wrist and trusting him to know what you want. "stop if you want to. go join mom in the shower, maybe you could get off with your—"

"don't." kento pistons his fingers into you with a pace that makes you dizzy! your head is falling back and he's reattaching his lips to your clit and showing off that added experience that being so much older than you gives. your fingers drag through his hair, messing up the delicate blond strands in a way you almost hope he doesn't remember to fix before facing your mother again.

and before you know it, he's bring you to the edge of your climax and pushing you over into ecstasy with an ease that makes it feel like you're the one who he should be claiming with jewellery instead! you cum hard around his fingers and greedy kento nanami laps up every last drop of your release like a thirsty dog.

he rests his forehead against your knee and closes his pretty eyes tight. he's trying to will his erection down.

"i can fix that," you offer, already knowing he'll shake his head and tell you that this is for your pleasure, not his. though you know if you had the time for a second round that your taste alone could make the man cum in his pants: it's happened before.

but before he can protest and you can push any further, the sound of running water from upstairs halts and you hear the shower door opening and shutting as your mother finishes up. it's an almost comical race to get your clothes back on and your appearances tidied up, but by the time she's dressed and rejoining you both in the dining room, you're sat in soft chatter about... the economy.

that's okay, though! because your mom quickly gives you a new subject to discuss when she tells you she's going to spend the summer abroad on a business exchange! she hates to leave you two alone like this but it's the opportunity of a lifetime.

and you'll be damned if you get a whole summer alone with your stepdad and don't get him to fuck you properly within the first week :)

pt 2 soooooooon

[bbokicidal]

But What Do I Know? | SKZ [Virgin!OT8]

Just some odd headcanons I've got regarding Virgin!SKZ. Some things I think they're into, how they behave as virgins, etc. But again, what do I know?~

Members are grouped into categories for these headcanons.

Warnings: 18+ Content; Oral sex, fingering, spitting/spit mentioned, dry grinding/humping, cum, makeouts, biting

NSFW Masterlist | SFW Masterlist

Group Number One : The 'I swear I didn't know it would happen!' Boys [The Pants Cummers]

Virgin!Minho swears on his life - to himself, of course - that he WILL NOT come in his pants the first time the two of you have a heavy makeout session - but it happens anyways. And he realizes after that, that he kind of.. likes it? He learns if he grinds on you a little he also gets the friction from his jeans and that helps him come even faster. Forget being put down because he reaches his high in just a few minutes - he's trying to makeout with you as long as possible to see how many times he can come.

Virgin!Jisung is WILDLY embarrassed when it happens, until he realizes you never noticed. Even if he'd gotten all blubbery and started to whimper in nervousness, you'd though he was just enjoying himself and whining into your mouth because he was happy. But then he excused himself to the bathroom to clean up and took nearly half an hour, his ears still beet red when he returned to you. You'd asked what happened and when he was honest, you reassured him it was fine that it happened - and that you thought it was kind of hot. Now, he lets it happen to please you because he knows you like it - which makes him love it even more.

Virgin!Jeongin isn't really sure what happened the first time. He was making out with you, you were on top of him - and then his thighs were trembling and you were sitting up in shock. As soon as he realizes he'd just nutted in his boxers, he's flushed in the neck and chest with embarrassment. How did that happen - WHY did that happen? He's all whiny and whispering about how he's so so sorry that he'd just done that with you on top of him. But when you shush him and whisper that it's okay while kissing his neck and tugging his collar down to mark him up, he'd begun to think maybe it wasn't that bad. And if you kept kissing him like that it was definitely going to happen again.

Group Number Two : The Masters with their Hands

Virgin!Chris doesn't really have full confidence in himself when he slips a hand in your panties for the first time, but he'd done as much research as he possibly could before his date with you earlier that night so he was sure he'd be fine. And his confidence only raised after you let your head tip back and moaned out his name. He'd let out a sigh as he pushed two fingers into your warmth, new to the feeling of being inside of you but enjoying it nonetheless. And your reactions, your whining of how much you loved his hands and how big his knuckles are, how good they feel on your walls - Yeah, he's a bit cocky after that and no longer worried about if he'll be able to please you.

Virgin!Hyunjin knows what he's doing in theory - not in practice. He did no research but it can't be that hard; and for him, it's not. It seems to come to him naturally (after you having to guide his thumb to where your clit actually is), with his middle and ring fingers pushing deep into your pussy until your thighs were quivering against his hips. He's a master at multitasking, able to rub your clit with his thumb and pump his fingers into you almost too quickly too well. And all while hovering above you, biting his lip and looking so good, too? Almost a bit mean of him to be this pretty and talented in bed.

Virgin!Seungmin really only is good at this because he plays games on PC. He's use to clicking the keys quickly, using multiple fingers at once - so you'd best bet he's good at fucking his fingers into you so quick it's got you nearly crying against the sheets. Also another who's good at multitasking - again, because of gaming - but it's with his other hand this time. And his mouth. He'll lean down to suck on your clit, fuck two or three fingers into you, and reach up to grope and tug at your chest with what feels like practiced (even though it's not) ease. Also mean in bed but.. in a different way. ;]

Group Number Three : The 'I can't help it' Boys [The Bed Humpers]

Virgin!Changbin swears that he didn't even realize he was grinding against the mattress while making out with you until he was making a mess on the sheets. Usually it's you he teases about your orgasm hitting early or the way your legs tremble in need when he sucks on your chest during heavier makeout sessions. But this time? This time it was him being teased, plump cheeks rosy pink and eyes darting over the sheets where pre had leaked from his tip and smeared on the mint of your bed. He's pouty, swearing up and down he didn't realize he had done that, before being welcomed back into your waiting arms with a shy smile. He waits until he has your reassurance that it's okay and it's nothing to be embarrassed about before he lets it happen again - and even blushes and gets shy when you ask him a few weeks later why he isn't humping the blankets while he sucks on your neck and chest. You think it's cute - and he's happy to please.

Virgin!Felix is.. kind of shameless about it. He's happy to let you know he's into you by touching and kissing and whatever - but he's a little too shy, and inexperienced, to even think about grinding on you. Your hips? His hips? Not connecting just yet. He's waaaay too shy to do anything like that. But he does want the friction, does crave the touch and grind of it all, so he'll go for the next best thing - laying between your legs while he kisses you all nice and slow in the early morning and rolling his hips down against the mattress. The feeling of his pajama pants rubbing on his cock is perfect, and the stiffness of the mattress... It's enough to satisfy him without getting too touchy with you just yet. And you seem to find it cute, too, that he humps the mattress all shy and sweet. If he notices you looking or watching he'll probably stop but any other time he's happy to keep going. Though there have been a few times he's gotten closer and humped your thigh instead. Not that you were complaining.

Group Number Four : The '*moans while neck deep in pussy*' Boys [The Messy Eaters]

Virgin!Hyunjin looooooves eating pussy. It's his favorite past time actually. Not busy? He's on his knees between your legs while you watch a show. Getting ready for sexy time? He's on his knees at the end of the bed waiting. Getting home from work? He's kissing you in the doorway and pinning you there so he can go down on you right away and relieve any stress. Honestly just a househusband with a nasty mouth who CANNOT keep his spit in it. It's like he's feral, almost. The type of guy who growls when you try to pull away or who bites at your thighs, nipping at your clit when you squirm too much. Again, so inexperienced that he's honestly not super great at eating you out - but does his best and is more than enough to please, at the cost of spit dripping down his chin and your thighs.

Virgin!Jisung. I've said it before, I'm saying it again!! Jisung likes to eat you out but really only when it's something casual and lazy. At first he was SO nervous because he was afraid he'd mess up or be bad at it - but then he realized, you're.. pretty chill about it all. You'll be on your phone and he'll be between your legs, sucking on your clit and dragging his tongue through your folds like you're the sweetest ice cream he's ever tasted. He's sweet when he eats you out and he's really careful about it, but he's.. drooling everywhere. Maybe even builds up the courage to spit on it if he thinks you're not paying attention, only to apologize and giggle when you flinch in surprise.

If y'all want a part two let me know - I have like 4-5 other groups already written in my notes lol.

Permanent Taglist :

@dwaekkicidal @jabmastersurpriseee @possum-playground

@thatonedarkskinnedsiren @oc3anfloor @theyadorevalerie

@jeonginsleftcheek

[pacofprunes]

my house, your house, aka, my girlfriend, your girlfriend. (mi casa, su casa)

thanos x fem!reader, nam-gyu x fem!reader

warnings — noncon, cursing, lowercase, drugs, injections(1), oral(fem), needles, nam-gyu and thanos argue like children, 3sum, protection not specified but you can assume none, thanos is referred to as su-bong by the reader, nam-gyu calls thanos “T-dog” once, lowkey nam-gyu is manipulating thanos or some shit im ngl, too much to count

“come on bro, cut me some slack, i’ll pay you back, you know im good for it.”

thanos stood in front of his good friend and dealer nam-gyu. desperate for some more drugs. he didn’t have the money though and was damn near about to get on his fucking knees just to get one more pill.

“i cut you slack everytime i sell to you thanos. i’m cutting you slack right now actually and you still don’t have enough.”

thanos runs his hands through his hair about to lose his cool. despite needing more, thanos would never allow himself to actually run out. he always has something on him. if he ever truly runs out, you’ll catch him with a shot of mouth wash in his pocket or some random ass prescription meds.

thanos opens his cross up, frowning at the little amount of pills left before popping one in his mouth. after sitting for a few seconds he shakes his head back and forth intensely before he jumps up.

“alright man! how bout you let me pay in some other way, huh?”

nam-gyu scoffs before he starts to laugh.

“you tryna sell yourself to me?”

thanos pushes him back by his shoulder.

“nah bro, what the fuck? i ain’t that bad! now you? you are an absolute junkie, i could see you doing that. you’re worse than me! stickin’ needles in your arms and shit.”

nam-gyu just scoffs again before biting his lip back. him and thanos were close friends. best buds. in fact, he lost a lot of ‘customers’ due to the fact that he’d sometimes give shit to thanos for free and they all wanted a piece of that. he was thinking of a way he could let thanos pay it off before you pop into his head. god you were fucking gorgeous. perfect face, perfect body, and such a perfect girl. despite dating a junkie and hanging around junkies, you yourself didn’t really use. only thing he’s ever seen you do is vape and smoke some weed. he’s expressed to thanos numerous times how perfect you were, and thanos was probably too high to give a fuck. and he’s high like 90% of the time. you were the one girl thanos actually wanted to date and stay with and not just fuck a couple nights of the week or whenever he hit you up. clearly you were perfect.

“give me a turn with your girl.”

thanos looks at him confused.

“my girl?”

“yes, your girl. i want a turn. you know, fuck, hit it and quit it, whatever you wanna say.”

thanos scoffs at him before looking away for a second. he was never opposed to sharing a girl in the past but you were different. you weren’t thanos’s fuck toy, no, you were thanos’s girl. and there’s a difference. a big difference. but nam-gyu was his bro. his best bro. he could share you with him.

“i’m not opposed to it but she’s not gonna want to, i mean look at you.”

now nam-gyu hits thanos and he just laughs. saying he was joking.

“okay, but seriously. my girl isn’t gonna wanna sleep with you. for one, she’s loyal, she loves me, and,”

nam-gyu stands there waiting for him to say something else and finish his sentence before saying a sarcastic ‘and?’ back to him. thanos shrugs his shoulders.

“that’s all i got.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes before throwing a shoulder over thanos.

“cmon, you haven’t ever taken no as an answer, huh?”

thanos pouts his lip out to the side and thinks for a second.

“i mean, from her, yeah.”

nam-gyu lets out a heavy breath before throwing his head back.

“just for one night. why don’t you treat her like any other bitch you used to do and just force her to let it happen.”

thanos looks offended at that and moves nam-gyus shoulder off of him. wondering if the drugs were really worth it. yeah if it was mutual between all of you he wouldn’t have really cared but he knew what nam-gyu was clearly insinuating.

“she’s gonna break up with me if i do.”

nam-gyu pauses to think before handing him a pill.

“oh man, really? for free?”

nam-gyu snatches his hand back.

“no. give this to her. it’ll make her a little drunk is all’. she won’t even remember by the morning.”

thanos thinks before snatching the pill out of his hand, looking down and inspecting it. he mumbles something under his breath.

“some fucked up shit,”

he lets out a heavy breath before looking at nam-gyu and points a finger at him.

“alright bro! but ima be there the whole time. and ima be getting my fair share with her too. she’s my girl after all, alright? i’m the one who knows how to please her.”

nam-gyu smirks at him before he gives him a nod.

“whatever you say. just don’t touch my dick or nothin’,”

thanos scoffs before taking a hit of his vape.

“not in a million fucking years! you don’t got nothing to worry about.”

—

“cmon babe, i take em’ all the time! just give it a shot.”

you look at your boyfriend like he’s gone crazy. he’s never tried to make you do drugs except for the first few times you met. the most you’ve done was smoke weed with him, he knew you didn’t do that crap. you didn’t even like when he did it but you supported him either way. why he was trying to pressure you to take this pill? you had no idea.

“what’s going on with you? you know i don’t do that crap.”

he playfully shakes you by your shoulders, giving you a fake pouty look.

“please baby…it’ll put you in this trance and make us feel like you’re on cloud nine. it’ll make falling asleep together in bed feel like a magical dream.”

you give him a concerned look before you act as if you’re gonna grab the pill from him but you just push it up to his mouth. he wouldn’t even let it slip past his lips.

“see! you take every drug under the sun and you wouldn’t even take it. why are you trying to give me something that you don’t even want?”

he lays his head on your shoulder and holds one of your hands and massaging it in his hand.

“it’s not that, i just already took one and you can’t take more than one in an hour!”

you deadpan at him.

“just get some alcohol or something if you’re really concerned on making our bedtime magical.”

he sighs before playfully pinching your arm, you let out an ow.

“you always played hard to get.”

you laugh.

“but that’s why you love me, is it not?”

he kisses you before pulling away and looking you in your eyes.

“you’re right.”

he pulls away completely now before making an ‘o’ face.

“oh, right, nam-su’s coming over in a few. kay’? kay.”

you give him a contorted look before complaining that you wanted to go to bed or that he never told you but he just ignores you, skipping away and shutting the bedroom door behind him. you press your palm into your forehead and let out a groan. he was literally going to be the death of you. but you loved him and his stupid antics.

—

“she wouldn’t take it man. i gave her the puppy dog eyes and everything!”

nam-gyu face palms himself before pulling something out of his pocket. a needle.

“hit her with this.”

“oh hell no. that’s that crazy ass shit you use, we’re not using that.”

nam-gyu shrugs before injecting the substance in his arm and thanos gives him a grotesque look.

“look man, just wait till she goes to sleep. she’s a heavy sleeper. i end up on top of her every night and i got some loud ass snores after drinking too much and she still doesn’t wake up.”

“how longs her going to sleep gonna take?”

“like now,”

“now?”

“yes. what are you complaining for? you took an hour longer to get here so she already fell asleep.”

thanos leads nam-gyu to your guys shared bedroom and slowly creeks open the door and peeks in before signaling nam-gyu to follow. on the bed was you sound asleep, not suspecting a thing.

“aw man, I don’t know if i should let you do this. if she wakes up she’s gonna know and break up with me. she’s already pissed at me for tryna’ get her to take that stupid ass pill you gave me.”

nam-gyu just slaps him on the back and brushes him off before he goes to sit next to you on the bed. the bed dipping down and you slightly moving toward the dip. he moves your hair behind your ear and brushes his hand down your cheek to your neck. your actual boyfriend just standing in the corner hitting his vape. the room starting to become a literal cloud. nam-gyu moves down and pulls down your pajamas, viewing your pretty legs, rubbing his hand on the inside of your thigh before pulling your panties down. thanos takes the vape out of his mouth and moves closer before nam-gyu can even put a finger in.

“you’re not very good at…this. i know what her body likes so i’ll take care of it and then you can do almost whatever.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes before moving away from your pussy, leaving that to thanos and moving his attention up to your torso.

“could you cut the good protective boyfriend crap? you’re letting your shitty drug dealer best friend fuck her without asking just so you can pay for some more drugs. pretty fuckin’ hypocritical if you ask me.”

he laughs and thanos just stares at him blankly before turning his attention back to you. he lays his head on your stomach, rubbing his hands over it before going back down lower in between your thighs. starting to rub you in all the ways he knows you and your body loves.

“you’re all worried about me gettin’ rough but i’ve seen how you’ve fucked bitches before and it certainly ain’t nice.”

thanos looks back up at nam-gyu.

“oh don’t worry, i still fuck like an animal. i haven’t gotten soft, don’t think that for a second. but her, this is thanos’s girl! i let her get her high and i get mine. don’t wanna rip her pretty pussy apart.”

nam-gyu hums in response and snakes his hand under your shirt, groping you and teasing your nipples between his fingers, harsh pinches that if you were awake it’d have you screaming. such harsh pinches that it might as well wake you up. thanos still focused on your pussy, slaps wherever he can manage to hit nam-gyu without seeing, mumbling that he was gonna wake you up.

“she isn’t gonna see me if she wakes up. she’s gonna see you, so she won’t even be mad.”

thanos sits up between your legs and starts fucking with his own pants and boxers, pulling them down. nam-gyu looks over before quickly looking away, slapping his hand over his eyes.

“man, i didn’t wanna see your dick, put that shit away!”

thanos scoffs.

“we’re fucking my girl and you didn’t expect to see my dick? i’m gonna have to see yours! and i know mines bigger.”

he mumbled that last part.

“ugh, please let me go first. i don’t wanna put my dick in after you, that’s basically me fucking you.”

“okay? you should be honored.”

“honored that i’m fucking you?”

“i’m fucking thanos man. you should be honored you even get to see me like this and that i don’t stab your eyes out!”

nam-gyu scrunches his eyebrows together at him.

“yeah, i kinda think i want you to.”

“want me to what?”

nam-gyu slaps his forehead.

“stab my eyes out you fucking idiot.”

thanos ignores him, mumbling some curses before slowly pushing himself into your tight hole. he sits there for a minute before immediately thrusting himself into you fast as fuck and rough as shit. he grips his hands on your hips, to the point where it would definitely bruise in the morning. he continues chasing his own high until he abruptly stops due to the huge stir you just made in your sleep. nam-gyu holding in his laugh due to thanos’s ridiculous wide eyes. he was so still you’d think he was frozen from the inside.

“what’s wrong? keep going. you wanted to take her first.”

“shut the fuck up.”

thanos lets out a deep breath before opening his cross and popping a pill in his mouth and throwing his head back just staring at the ceiling, trying to stop himself from being so tense. he pulls out of you and decides to just jack off next to you on the side of the bed so you don’t wake up as soon as they start. pouting to himself because he wanted his girl to help him out instead of his right hand. nam-gyu gets up and places himself between your legs now, not hesitating to slide in, ignoring the stirring that you were doing. it just made his dick twitch even more, all your moving doing the work for him. he starts feeling you up as he slowly moves in and out of you, taking his time before he starts thrusting so hard that you smack the headboard of the bed. thanos drops his dick out of his hand and snaps his head up at nam-gyu?

“are you trying to wake her up?”

“not completely opposed to it. i’m livin’ by ‘if she wakes up she wakes up’.”

“it won’t be an ‘if’ she wakes up if you keep this shit up.”

you start to stir but nam-gyu could careless, keeping his rough pace. your eyebrows scrunching together as you place your hand on your face before propping your arms behind you to push yourself up. but the moment you do that you feel something slide out of you. you felt so full, felt good but at the same time this painful burning feeling. you mumble out for thanos, asking what he was doing and he climbs on top of you, laying his body flat on you before holding your face in his hands, pressing a tight kiss. you’re too out of it, to reciprocate. having just woke up. although nam-gyu stopped for the second you completely woke, he quickly decides ‘fuck it’ and starts slamming so hard into you that you hit the headboard again. you quickly contort your face in pain and thanos snaps his head back at nam-gyu, causing nam-gyu to shrug. he snaps his head back to you, your face still in his hands before you go to move them.

“have you been fucking me while i’ve been asleep? what the hell has gotten into you su-bong?”

he quickly presses you into a kiss, this time a much rougher one to keep you quiet as you press your hands against his chest to get him off of you. he moves his hands back to your face, squeezing it tightly. finally he pulls away and that’s when nam-gyu finally pulls out. you hadn’t even known that he was there.

“ah man, she’s awake. whatever, can i use her mouth now T-dog?”

thanos scoffs at him and your eyes widen even more. wondering what was going on and why nam-gyu was here. you go to open your mouth but thanos just presses a finger to it.

“shh babe. i won’t let him do all that.”

“psh, maybe not today but sure you will at some point.”

you yell at thanos to get off of you so that you can leave and he just groans at you, frustrated.

“shut the fuck up. i’ve been pretty nice, huh? don’t piss me off now baby. he’s still here, i could let him do so much more.”

he leans in closer to your ear.

“and trust me, i know he wants to.”

he moves away from your ear and just looks over you, still completely on top of you before clapping his hands together.

“in fact, he wants to do shit that i’d never in a million years dream of doin’ to you. but if you’re gonna start being a bitch i’ll be a nice friend and let his dreams come true.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes.

“yeah, a nice friend for once.”

“you don’t consider me letting you fuck my girl a friendly thing of me to do for you?”

nam-gyu throws his hands in the air shrugging.

“idontknow man,”

you were still so confused and couldn’t grasp the situation, feeling hands who you could assume were nam-gyus gliding up your thighs and fingers starting to play with your pussy, quickly going to kick at him before his hands hold your legs down and he settles for using his mouth instead. your eyes start to tear up and you take as large as a breath as you can with thanos still on top of you. you start to hit at him again, not caring what he’d have to say before he just stares at the wall blankly for a few seconds, letting you have your tantrum, before unexpectedly throwing his hands at your throat and choking you.

“shh, you’re good. i’ll make breakfast for ya in the morning, whatdya say? i think nam-gyus staying the night tho.”

he lets go of your neck with one hand, the other still staying on your neck and his now using his free hand he sticks out his tongue and puts his finger on it making an exaggerated fake disgusted look. you continue to try to free yourself, black spots clouding your vision more and more. god, why would you decide that hanging around, let alone dating an insanely active drug user and constantly partying with his drug dealer buddy’s was a good idea? now this crazy fuck was gonna kill you and he was gonna have a whole conversation with you as if nothing was wrong while he did it. he puts his other hand back on your neck while you just hold onto his wrist, not bothering to actually scratch at him, but just holding it and looking at him with the eyes that he fell in love with. the tears threatening to spill that whenever he saw he always took care of. hoping some slither of humanity was still left in the guy you thought you loved. he frees his one hand from choking you before your vision fully starts to fade, feeling his hand glide against your cheek before it all goes dark and he finally lets go, letting out a long shaky deep breath. the effects of his drugs starting to let up and his actions starting to dawn on him, quickly checking to make sure you were still alive before quickly getting up off of you so you wouldn’t have as much trouble breathing.

nam-gyu quickly pulls his pants back up and leaves thanos to slide yours up as well. he goes over to him and throws his arm over his shoulder before flicking the cross pendant around thanos’s neck. thanos looks down, not thinking to heavy on it and just opens it, taking the last pill out and popping it in his mouth as quickly as possible. nam-gyu reaches in his pocket and shuffles around before pulling out a bag filled with the pills thanos has been desiring, dangling it in front of his face. thanos’s eyes immediately widen in surprise.

“you shouldn’t have to bitch to me about needing more for at least two weeks unless you take like fifteen a day.”

thanos shakes his hands, wiggling his arms around a little, hoping the drug he just took takes its course as quickly as possible so he can feel better about what he just did.

“don’t worry man. as long as you clean her up i’m sure she’ll wake up thinkin’ it was all just a bad dream.”

thanos takes the bag of pills from him. nam-gyu gave him so much that he knew they all wouldn’t even fit in his cross. he looks at the bag one last time before he looks back down at you. he starts tossing the bag back and forth between his hands like a ball, thinking about what nam-gyu said. yeah, yeah he was probably right. you’d probably wake up thinking it was just some weird bad dream you made up. yeah. he’d make breakfast for you, apologize for trying to pressure you into taking that pill and you’d think it was all just a dream. nam-gyu coughs before speaking.

“so will there be a next time?”

the drugs start speaking for thanos before he could even comprehend what he was saying. before he could actually even know what he was saying. and he’s sure he wouldn’t even remember what he was saying either.

“shit, if you’re throwing this much around then hell yeah there’s gonna be a next time.”

[evilmenenjoyer]

City of Love

Pairing: The Salesman x fem!Reader

Summary: Months after winning the Squid Games, you receive an unwanted visit from the man who's been haunting you since the very beginning.

Word count: 5k

Warnings: smut (minors dni), drinking, sex in a public place, some murderous thoughts. Don't be fooled by the title, it's very much not a fluffy romantic fic lol.

*

The City of Love.

At least, that's what everyone calls it. It felt like the place to be after all the horrors you had endured in the past year – horrors you don't dare to say a word about to another soul. Friends and acquaintances have told you about how great it is, how beautiful, how magical. About how just a few days here will heal any woes in your heart.

Of course, it didn't work. Now you're just depressed in Paris.

It's not all bad. The Eiffel tower looks just as pretty as it does in pictures, especially late at night when it lights up and sparkles. The historic architecture and cobblestone streets are a nice break from the modern buildings you're used to from Seoul, so different it almost erases the memories sometimes. Never for too long. Just when you think you're slipping back into something resembling normalcy, they return in your nightmares in the shape of blood, pink jumpsuits and children’s games.

This afternoon, it takes the shape of a ghost – a tall, handsome man, whose face you’ve only ever seen in dreams and in the subway lines of Seoul.

All color drains from your face in a matter of seconds, all that pink winter flush.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He smiles, like you're an old friend. It nearly throws you off your balance by how natural it looks, like he's not forcing it.

“Beautiful city, isn't it? Especially at this time of the year.”

This can't be happening. The whole reason you left South Korea was to put distance between yourself and those horrific games, and all the people associated with them. To just run into one right here, in a different continent, mere months after your victory; it makes you feel like you're about to pass out.

You stand up from your seat and walk right out of the patisserie, leaving your ridiculously overpriced hot chocolate nearly untouched on the table.

You knew, somehow, that he would follow you, but you still prayed he wouldn’t. That it had been your imagination, or the PTSD, or anything other than the Salesman himself crossing paths with you in Paris.

“I expected a warmer welcome,” a voice behind you says, making you pause your stroll down the street. Fortunately – or maybe unfortunately – you still haven’t completely lost track of what's real and what's not, and you can tell that voice is real, clear as day. He’s real and here and that terrifies you to your very core.

Turning around to face him, you hate how he still looks every bit as infuriatingly handsome as he did the first time you saw him.

“What are you doing here?” you repeat, your voice shaky and not nearly as incisive ad you’d like it to be.

“Visiting,” he replies. He turns to gaze at the scenery around you. In your hurry to get away from him, you didn't even realize you ended up at the Pont Neuf, the old bridge crossing the Seine River. Dusk settles around the two of you, the purple-ish color of the sky reflected on the river, almost too pretty for this situation. “Like I said, France is quite nice during the winter.”

You scoff. “You expect me to believe it's just a big coincidence that you and I ended up in the same place, five thousand miles away from home, at the same time?”

“Small world, isn't it?”

“I’m serious. I did everything you people wanted. I beat the games, I took the money and I kept my mouth shut. You were supposed to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Did what we wanted?” Something in his smile changes, shifts from warmth to something more sinister. “We never forced you to do anything. Remember that. You brought whatever happened on yourself.”

Cold air rushes over you, drawing a shiver out of you. It's not snowing yet, but it start might soon. It's hard to remember you were once excited for it.

He reaches out, ignoring the warnings in your eyes as he runs a finger over the smooth fabric of your scarf, then wraps it around your neck one more time. It’s almost a tender gesture, if he was someone else entirely. It should have you flinching, or slapping his hand away. Instead, it only makes you freeze in your spot.

“Yves Saint Laurent,” he notes. “I see you’ve been making good use of that money.”

It doesn't sound accusatory, but it feels like it anyway. Even after months, it still feels wrong to use the money, despite all the literal blood, sweat and tears it took to get it. Like you should be gathering it all in a pile and setting fire to it in protest. But what would that change? Why shouldn't you be allowed to use it to build a new life for yourself?

So you stayed in five star hotels. So you bought a few more pairs of Louboutin shoes than necessary. Therapy was out of the question, so this was the next best thing you could come up with for the time being. Best-case scenario, a therapist would think you're a nutcase. Worst case, they’d turn you in to the authorities for confessing to multiple murders you had committed at the Squid Games. You didn’t want to take the risk.

“I thought that was the idea,” you say. The Salesman’s hands are still on the fabric, merely touching it, but that doesn't stop your mind from picturing him gripping it, pulling on it until you suffocate in the garment you bought as some empty, mediocre sign of victory.

“It suits you.” He lets his hands fall with no damage to your throat or to your respiratory system. “Much better than those knock-offs you used to wear.”

It disturbs you that he even remembers that. As far as you know, you were only one of the hundreds of people who had played ddakji with him at the subway station. You remembered every second of it, replayed it in your mind over and over again, but there was nothing particularly memorable about you back then. You lost most rounds. You hoped against hope that he would ask you out, even after your cheek was red and stinging.

That was a different version of you. One that smiled more, even with all the hardships in your life. One that was too naive to realize she was selling her soul to the devil from that very first game of ddakji.

“Since the city brought us together,” the Salesman says, “I’d like to buy you a drink.”

It would be impossible to keep the surprise from your face if you’d tried. Those are words you would've loved to hear all those months ago, and now that he says them, you can barely draw enough air into your lungs to tell him to fuck off.

“Why? So you can kill me the second we’re off the street?”

He chuckles, like he finds your confusion amusing. “Why would I do that?”

“Isn't that why you're here?” Why else would it be, after all? Maybe it's part of their sick games; to give one person the illusion of victory, let them enjoy the money for a few months, then go after them and kill them. Or worse, pull them back in.

“If I wanted to kill you, I could do it anywhere.”

You suppose there's no arguing with that, but you're not sure if it makes you feel better. Good news: you're still breathing. Bad news: you're still breathing only until he allows you to.

“You still didn't tell me why you came after me, then,” you point out.

“Let's have a drink, and I’ll tell you.”

You must be insane for even considering this. The naive girl that had first seen him in the subway, coming home late at night from work, would be enthusiastically urging you to go. You’re supposed to know better than her.

“One drink,” you say. “Then you go home and never contact me again.”

His smile widens. “I know a nice place.”

*

He brings you to a piano bar just a few blocks away from the bridge. It's a fancy place, the kind that makes you feel underdressed even in your designer clothes. He blends right in – not only because of the sleek, tailored suit, but because of his demeanor, the natural elegance with which he carries himself.

Not for the first time, you wonder if he was born into wealth, or if he was ever like you. Someone who had to claw his way out of poverty. You can't picture it, but there's so much you don't know about him. It's what makes him so scary and confusing to you, but also so damn intriguing.

He orders for you before you have the chance to open your mouth. Dom Pérignon, two glasses. You raise your eyebrows once the waiter walks away.

“Are we celebrating something?”

“Your victory.”

The response makes your stomach drop. “I don't want to celebrate that.” Not with anyone, but especially not with him.

He gives a small shrug. “Just a special occasion, then.”

The dimmed, warm lights of the bar make the place feel so intimate, almost romantic in a sense. You don't know what to make of it, so you force yourself to look away from him, even when you can still feel his stare unflinching on you. Luckily, the waiter shows up just in time, pouring you both glasses of the bubbly drink and leaving the bottle in a bucket on the table.

You turn back to the Salesman, glaring at him. “I said one drink, not one bottle.”

“You never specified,” he replies, fake innocence in his eyes. “Gives us more time to catch up. Maybe even play a game, for old time’s sake.”

The mere mention of a game makes you want to run away, to lock yourself in the restroom and refuse to come out. It has to be intentional; he has to know what kinds of things would be running through your head, after everything you’d gone through. You take a long gulp of the champagne, nearly done with the entire glass in one go. You can't let him get to you like this. You do your best to look unbothered.

“Do you walk around with ddakji tiles everywhere?” you ask. “Just in case you find someone who wants to play?”

That earns a soft laugh out of him. “No, not ddakji.”

He reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out what looks like a standard deck of cards.

“Have you ever played blackjack?”

You have, but hesitation is written all over your features. “What if I don't want to play?”

“Do you think I’d force you?” he asks, like you're a fool for even thinking so. “Like I said, you were never forced to do anything. It's your choice.” He sips his own champagne in a much classier, more contained way than you. Like he's happy to draw this out for hours, rather than wanting this night to be over as soon as possible. “But you’ve beaten much harder games before. This should be nothing for our big victor, right?”

There's a challenge in his voice, in his eyes. You should know better than to fall for it. So why is there a part of you that still feels like you have a point to prove? That feels like, with a little bit of luck and skill, you can finally beat this man at his own game?

“Fine.” You cross your arms over the table. “Let’s do this.”

Pleased with your answer, he shuffles the cards in his hands. You watch him, almost as mesmerized as you’d been watching him play ddakji at the subway station. It's so hard not to get lost in it, but you refuse to look away in shyness and hesitation again, keeping your eyes on him as you sip the rest of the champagne in your glass.

He refills it before placing four cards on the table: two facing upwards for you, one face-down and one face-up for himself, the dealer.

The rules are simple: your cards all together need to get as close to 21 without going over. Whichever one of you gets the closest wins the round. You have a nine and a four, totaling thirteen. The Salesman has a five, and a card that's invisible for you. 

“Hit me,” you say, figuring your odds can't be too bad.

He places one more card to your pile: a seven. Twenty in total. Your heart speeds up inside your chest, already triumphant even before the end.

He reveals all his cards to you: the five you’ve already seen, a nine, and a three. Seventeen. Your smile widens, relief washing over you like you’d just escaped a near-death experience. You don't think beating a game, no matter the kind, will ever not feel like this again.

“Not bad,” he compliments. He reaches into another pocket for his wallet, drawing a hundred euro note and pushing it towards you on the table.

You just stare at it with an eyebrow raised, baffled and, frankly, a bit offended. With the tip of your index finger, you push the bill back to him.

“Do you really think I still need your money?”

“It's just symbolic,” he argues, but still tucks the money back into his wallet. “Of course, we can bet on other things too, if you’d prefer.”

“What kind of things?”

“Whatever you want. You won.”

“Whatever I want?” A grin stretches across your lips as you lean forward on the table. “Like a dare?”

He leans forward as well, like he wants to meet you in the middle. His eyes never leave yours. “Like a dare.”

You wonder just how far he’d take this game, if he would do something outrageous or serious just because you told him to. Maybe not. But even this is the kind of power that you never, ever imagined you would have over this man.

“Okay. Let me see your wallet.”

He hands it over without a fight. You rummage through all of it, ignoring all the cash and instead looking for something else, anything personal. But there's nothing. No family photos, no old receipts, not even a condom tucked inside one of the pockets. At last you find his ID license, the name Park Ha-Joon listed beside a smiling picture of him that looks so normal you almost want to laugh.

“It's not your real name, is it?”

He smiles. “Smart girl.”

“It was worth a shot.” You close the wallet and hand it back to him.

He shuffles the cards, hands them over again. Seven and six. You tap the cards in a sign for him to hit you with one more.

“Do you really want to know why I came to see you?”

Your eyes snap in his direction, not even looking at the new card that’s placed in front of you. 

“I thought you’d be one of the first to die in a place like that.” He looks focused on the game as he talks, “When I found out you were the winner, I wanted to see it for myself.”

Your throat tightens, making it hard to draw in my next breath. You look around yourself, as if trying to make sure you're really here and not at that disturbing colorful scenario, or at the bunk beds in the dorm. Still the piano bar. Warm lights, soft chatter of conversation, piano notes ringing through the air. The mental image of that place still doesn't vanish from your mind.

“See what, exactly?” you ask, even though you know it would be better not to.  

“If you truly earned it, or if you’re just one more piece of trash who got lucky, like all the others before you.”

Your hand must twitch, an involuntary movement you're not even aware of, and the Salesman places another card to your pile. You look down at it in horror, realizing all the cards together total to twenty-three.

“I didn't say hit me,” you protest.

“You tapped. You know that's the sign.” He looks over the cards again, as if just noticing the source of your distress instead of directly causing it. “Too bad.”

It's not fair, and you both know it, but you doubt pointing it out will make a difference. You bite your tongue around any words as well as the lump that's formed in your throat, tears trying to rush to the surface. Your gaze meets his and holds it.

“Are you going to slap me?”

He’s still for a moment, considering it. It's one thing to hit you in the face in a mostly-empty subway station late at night, and another entirely to do it in this sophisticated bar, with all these people around as witnesses. Still, you don't doubt that he would do it. You hold yourself back from flinching when his hand comes out, bracing yourself for the impact.

It never comes. Instead, his hands merely cup your cheeks, tilting your face to face him fully. He looks at you like he's studying you, his expression unreadable.

“Not now. I want something else,” he says. “A round of shots.”

His grip on your face is firm, but he runs the pad of his thumb over the curve of your cheekbone, like wiping away a teardrop that never fell. A gesture that can only be described as affectionate, and it's messing with your head way more than the slaps on the face did.

You nod.

He holds on for just a second too long before he lets you go. He orders the shots to the waiter – you pay no attention to the brand, or even the type of booze –, and you don't say another word until after they're placed in front of you on the table, small glasses so clean they gleam under the light.

“I crawled my way out of that hell,” you tell him. “You have no idea what I had to do to survive. You don't get to sit here and tell me I didn't fucking earn it.”

He looks more amused than anything. “To kill for necessity, anyone can do. It doesn't make you as special as you think it does.” He nods towards the shot on the table, reaching for his own. “Drink.”

You count one, two, three in your head before throwing the shot back, unable to suppress a grimace when the drink comes down your throat like liquid fire.

“Why do you wanna get me drunk so bad?”

He empties his shot glass as well. “Drinking together ensures none of us has an advantage.” He picks up the deck of cards again, before you ever have the chance to tell him you’ve had enough of this game. The words die down in your throat.

One more round. Your cards add up to seventeen.

It’s too risky to ask for one more card; anything higher than four would mean an instant loss. Only then you notice the sweat under your palms, the rush in your ears overpowering the piano music in the background. You force yourself to take a deep breath, to remember that your life is not on the line anymore and losing doesn't mean certain death, even though it feels like it.

He reveals his cards. Eighteen.

“Fuck.”

He seems pleased with himself, accessing you as you brace yourself for whatever he has in mind for you now.

“Come a little closer,” he orders.

You frown, but you find yourself obeying without much questioning, getting up from your chair to slide to the seat next to him on the booth.

He pours you both more Dom Pérignon, and this time he doesn't have to tell you to drink. You focus on the way the bubbles dance inside your mouth, if only to have something to distract yourself from his proximity, from the faint smell of his cologne or from the fact he still hasn't told you what he wants from you for losing this round

His hand lands on your thigh.

You jump in surprise, and his hand tightens its grip there, digging into your skin and keeping you in your seat. Your eyes widen and search for his, a question clear in them.

With his free hand, the Salesman pushes the cards in your direction. “You’ll be the dealer now,” he says, “and for each time you lose, I get to keep my hands on you for one more round.”

Say no, you tell yourself. Say something. A better, stronger woman would throw the champagne in the glass on his face and walk right out of this bar. Instead, you find yourself still as a statue, a sudden rush of warmth overflowing your senses – first, it rises to your face, coloring your cheeks red, then it travels lower to the pit of your stomach and down right into the space between your legs.

You can’t even tell if it’s the alcohol, spreading through your bloodstream and bringing a buzzing sensation to your head that’s not all unpleasant, or the fact you haven’t been touched like this in what feels like forever, or simply the man sitting next to you. How many times had you fantasized about this, until you realized that he was the catalyst of your ruin?

Maybe even a few times after that.

You take the deck of cards. He grins like he knew you would, like a master pleased with a dog following his command. You want to wipe that look off his face, but you can barely concentrate enough to properly shuffle the cards.

If you felt like you were fighting for your life before, it’s nothing compared to right now. The hand doesn’t move, doesn’t so much as twitch until the very final moments of the round, when you realize the two of you are tied. A fingertip slides up the fabric of your stockings until it stops at your knee, your skin erupting in goosebumps following the movement. Your heart beats so hard inside your chest you can barely hear the chatter of people around you as the bar fills in with people.

You lose the next round, and the next, and the one after that. You can’t even tell if you’re doing it on purpose anymore.

With each passing minute that you don’t push him away, that you allow him to test and cross your boundaries, he gets more daring, drawing shapes in the perimeter of your leg and curling into your inner thigh. Your chest rises with a breath that comes tumbling out, the sound of it way too close to a whimper for your liking.

You can tell he notices it instantly, observant and apparently fluent in your body language like he’s spent years of his life studying it. He takes the opportunity to let his hand wander under your skirt, to the spots it hadn’t covered yet.

That’s enough. You need to win this next round.

It’s like, for once, God listens to your prayers. Your cards add up to an even, perfect twenty-one to his nineteen.

He retrieves his hand as if on cue. You thought you would be gasping in relief, but what comes out instead is a pitiful, almost desperate don’t.

He raises an eyebrow. “Don’t as in stop?” he asks. “Or as in don’t stop?”

Your body answers the question for him before your mind can even process what happened, grabbing his hand and pulling it to the spot where it was. Your skin comes ablaze the second he touches you again, like his touch is charged with electricity.

“Did you know,” you can feel his breath so close to you when he speaks, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “that you were the first person who ever challenged me to play ddakji at the subway? Usually it’s the other way around. Nobody but you ever made the first move.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words like this, with his body leaning into yours and his hand that still touches you under the table and– whoa, that is not your thigh. The solid press against your core makes your whole body twitch, but you don’t jerk away. You try to focus on the memory.

“I didn’t give a fuck about the game,” you reveal. “I just wanted you to notice me.”

“I know.” He draws small, precise circles over you. “Do you ever think about how I would’ve left you alone otherwise?”

Of course you do, more than you would ever admit. But having him confirm it hurts. It’s bad enough to know you’re the one who caused all the trauma you’ve been through since meeting him, that you could’ve just carried on with your life, shitty as it as, if only you weren’t a foolish girl with a crush on a stranger. But to be in his arms right now, your head falling over his shoulder and your lips releasing a tiny whimper; it just makes it all the more fucked up.

“Was it worth it?”

The smile on your lips is devoid of any humor. “Never.”

“Let me prove to you that it was.”

Just like that, everything stops. He scoots away from you in the booth and stands up, bringing all the heat with him aside from the faint lingering warmth on your face. He leaves a few bills over the table, enough for the entire tab, and walks away.

He doesn’t head towards the front door, instead making his way to the opposite direction. You watch him, confused, for a few moments before you trail after him, past the kitchen and the restrooms until you see the red glow of an exit sign.

A chilly breeze rushes over you the second you step outside, and you expect to see him walking into the dark narrow street. But he’s waiting for you, leaning against the brick wall behind him. He raises his eyebrows in that same condescending way he’s done all night, daring you to make the next move.

You don’t hesitate for even a second longer. You grab a fistful of his impeccable suit jacket and pull him closer, crashing your lips together.

From the start, it’s not sweet or gentle. He digs his fingers into your hips hard enough to bruise, wasting no time before he lifts you up into the air and pins you against the wall. You gasp into his mouth, parting your lips and practically begging his tongue inside. Your legs part almost in unison, allowing him to settle between them and effectively trap you, his larger frame blocking any exit.

As if you would dream to get away.

In one swift movement, he reaches between your legs and rips at the fabric of your stockings, the sound echoing through the empty street. You’re already making quick work of his belt; or trying to, frustrated by your lack of mobility from his position. He doesn’t seem willing to let you go, so he does it himself instead, pulling his pants down just enough to free himself from the confines of his underwear.

You’ve soaked through your panties in whatever time it took to play all those rounds of blackjack. It felt like it was drawn-out for hours, but you know it couldn’t have been more than just a few minutes. He moans when he feels it, before he even pushes into you – a heavenly, otherworldly sound, one you want to hear again and again. You push your hips towards him, feeling yourself throb when he rubs his length over you, burning hot where skin meets even though everything around you is cold. He rewards you with another sound that you drink right in as you deepen the kiss, happy to never have your lips separate from each other ever again.

He pushes the fabric of your panties to the side and thrusts into you without a warning, drawing a strangled, sharp gasp from you. He doesn’t give you time to adjust to the invasion, setting up a punishing pace that pushes you against the wall hard with every thrust. You claw at his back, losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, helpless to stop it as he all but consumes you like this is his last chance to.

“Ah– fuck,” you have to break away from his lips to attempt to draw in some air, your breaths and sounds interrupted by the rhythmic, vicious snaps of his hips into yours. He takes the opportunity to tilt his head and follow the line of your jaw with his lips, to mouth kisses and graze his teeth over your throat.

Hands find their way under pieces of clothing, trying to cling to as much bare skin as they can. He does most of the work, still holding you up in the air with the help of the wall (you curl your toes just to test the waters, the ones on the foot closest to the ground, and they barely touch the pavement), bouncing you on his cock however he sees fit, and it’s embarrassing how close you are already just from this.

“Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

It’s intoxicating how vocal he is, all the grunts and moans he breathes into your neck, how it rips more sounds out of you than you would usually make. The street is completely silent save for the two of you, not another soul in sight. You could kill him right here and he would never see it coming. Gut him with the knife tucked away in your purse, leave him on the pavement gasping for his last breath. Who would catch you? You have enough money to run to yet another country, to give yourself a new identity and reinvent yourself as many times as you want.

The purse is on the floor where you’d carelessly let it fall, out of reach. Still you run your hands down over his bottom, feeling for any guns or weapons he may have tucked into the back of his waistband, or hidden in his pockets. There’s nothing, but you don’t have a lot of time to be disappointed about it before you’re coming with a high-pitched, broken shout, like your orgasm has taken you by surprise. He holds you up, squeezing you against the wall for support, the only thing stopping you from falling straight to the floor.

The Salesman follows right after, a stream of goods and fucks and your name falling from his lips as he spills deep into you. You wish you had it in you to be offended, to tell him off for it. But all you can think about is how much you wish you knew his name so you could shout it, gasp it, whisper it, for as long as he keeps holding you this tight.

[alsofoundinpeas]

The View from Here

Summary: After a few chance encounters, Spencer finds himself developing a crush on Y/N. When he discovers she lives across from him, he spends countless hours admiring her from a distance, too nervous to make the first move. But when her package is mistakenly delivered to his door, it sparks the beginning of something more than just a crush and stolen glances through the window.

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. This could be considered dubcon (Spencer watches reader through her window but doesn't realize that she actually wants him to) so please be aware of that! Masturbation (both m and f). Use of a sex toy/penetrative use of a sex toy (f!receiving). Perv!Spencer (he means well truly, but alas he is a man) but also a hint of Perv!Reader (since she's intentionally doing things to grab his attention?? I'm not quite sure how to label that I'm sorry!!) Themes of voyeurism/exhibitionism (they both watch each other get off). Sub!Spencer (gotta squint for it now but it'll be more prevalent in part two). Both fluffy and smutty

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

A/N: This was started to fill a request for sub!Spencer but I got carried away forgive me LMAO but part two is almost complete and will be out soon :') I wrote this with season two Reid in mind before the writers (further) traumatized the absolute fuck out of him. This is a bit different from my usual writing, so I truly hope you guys enjoy it! As always, please let me know what you guys think and if you do enjoy it then please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 I truly do appreciate each and every single one of you and the feedback I get from you guys, I promise :') <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

The door slammed behind him as Spencer stormed into his apartment, tossing his satchel onto the couch with an angry groan. The stress of work had been wearing him down for weeks, but today had pushed him over the edge.

He’d just wrapped up the reports for their latest case and was on his way to deliver them to Hotch when an oblivious agent from the sex crimes unit collided with him. The force sent the cup of scalding coffee in her hands flying, drenching him and his case files. Instead of responding to her blubbered apologies, he had just stomped off to the bathroom to clean himself and calm down. Not only was it painful and humiliating, but it also destroyed all of his hard work. Work he'd now have to redo tomorrow.

Spencer exhaled sharply, fingers raking through his hair as he trudged toward the bedroom. All he wanted was to strip off his coffee-stained clothes and lose himself in the pages of his new book, anything to escape the tension of the day. Once inside, he moved to close the curtains but stopped short, his eyes landing on something unexpected just before he pulled them shut. His body went rigid, his heart racing as an unfamiliar warmth spread through him. He blinked, barely able to believe what he was seeing.

There, in the apartment directly across from his bedroom window, was Y/N.

Spencer had bumped into her a handful of times—their first meeting happening at the library just down the street when they'd both reached for the same book, then a few chance encounters after that at his favorite coffee shop, and the most recent interaction being one of the most mortifying moments of his life.

He’d stumbled over the sidewalk on his way to work, and he’d never wanted to disappear into the ground more than in that moment. But she had been there, her smile warm and gracious as she helped him gather the scattered books and case files that had spilled from his satchel, her kindness leaving him flustered and breathless. He’d been captivated by her the first time they met, but it was that moment that truly cemented his fascination with her.

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat when he realized how wrong it was to be watching her through her bedroom window. But despite the guilt creeping in, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. It was as if he were under some kind of spell, captivated by the sight of her spinning around her room, carefree and radiant.

She wore a loose t-shirt that slipped off one shoulder and the tiniest pair of shorts he’d ever seen, completely at ease in her own space. She held something in her hand, singing into it like a microphone, completely lost in the music. Spencer didn’t realize when it happened, but a smile tugged at his lips, the stress of the day forgotten as he watched her. Her joy was so genuine and infectious that it pulled at him in ways he hadn’t expected, leaving him momentarily breathless.

His thoughts were interrupted when Y/N twirled around, singing as she faced her window. Spencer released a startled yelp, frantically yanking the curtains shut before she could catch him staring. His heart raced in his chest as he dared a quick peek through the fabric, anxious to see if she had noticed. Thankfully, she seemed oblivious, still happily dancing around her room, unaware of his presence.

"Oh my God," Spencer muttered, a wave of relief washing over him as he realized he hadn’t been caught staring like a complete weirdo at the woman he’d developed a crush on, despite having barely exchanged five sentences with her.

He was sure she didn't even remember his name. Why would she? All he'd managed to do during their brief interactions (besides busting his ass on the concrete the one time) was stutter out barely audible attempts at conversation before hastily retreating, his face scarlet and slacks uncomfortably tight.

Spencer had assumed Y/N lived nearby, but he hadn’t realized she was this close.

The day's weight melted away as Spencer peeled off his work clothes and slipped into his pajamas. He grabbed his book from the nightstand and sank back into his pillows, propping himself up against the headboard. But as he tried to focus on the pages, the image of Y/N dancing in her room kept invading his thoughts. His mind refused to settle, consumed with ideas of how he might run into her again now that he knew that not only was she just a building away—she was right across from him.

As the weeks passed, Spencer’s routine began to mirror Y/N’s more and more as he grew increasingly familiar with her schedule.

He began waking up earlier, noticing that she typically left her apartment an hour before he needed to head to work. With the extra time, Spencer found himself watching her with quiet awe each morning while she got ready, fascinated by how the soft light from the window seemed to illuminate her features as she did her hair and makeup. He also started visiting his favorite coffee shop daily instead of just once a week, hoping for a chance encounter before his workday began.

Night after night Spencer found his gaze inevitably drawn to her window, the soft glow of her bedroom lighting luring him in like a moth to a flame. He would trace her movements, pretending to read his book as it shielded his face, should he need to feign innocence. Something was alluring about her, even in the simplest moments—whether she was folding laundry or typing away on her computer, she was impossible to look away from.

Spencer couldn’t shake his curiosity about Y/N’s habit of leaving her curtains open.

Did she know he could see her? Was it intentional? Their apartments, situated at the ends of the buildings on the top floors, offered a level of privacy that made him feel certain (or at least, he desperately hoped) that no one else could be watching. Perhaps she’d noticed his frequent absences and simply stopped caring about keeping them shut.

The first case away from D.C. after Spencer learned Y/N was so close was more difficult than he expected. As he lay awake in his hotel room, his thoughts kept drifting to her, and the longing grew with each passing hour. He missed her. The only thing driving him was the need to finish the case quickly so he could return to the familiar comfort of his bed, where he could silently admire her from a distance.

The longer he thought about her, the tighter his boxers got. Spencer huffed out a pitiful whine, his hands clenching and unclenching beside himself as he tried to fight his shameful thoughts. This wasn't the first time he'd had these thoughts about her since meeting her, no. But it is the first time he's had the mental image of her undressing to go along with his fantasies.

The first time it happened, Spencer had all but thrown himself off his bed in his haste to close his curtains. His heart had pounded so hard his chest ached as he'd squeezed his eyes shut, willing the sight of her raising her shirt over her head and tossing it carelessly to the ground out of his mind. The second time, he took a little more time to slink over to his window and draw his curtains, his pulse racing at the sight of her bare back and the smallest glimpse of lacy panties as she began to shimmy out of her pants. The third time, he had crouched by his window, peeking out despite having pulled his curtains closed, and watched as she stripped completely before heading into her conjoined bathroom.

That was the first and (so far) only time he'd touched himself to what he'd seen.

The moment her bathroom door had clicked shut, Spencer sprang to his feet and hurried into his own bathroom, tearing his clothes off before stepping underneath the stream of hot water. One of his palms smacked the wall while his other hand frantically pumped his aching cock, whimpers and groans flowing freely from his lips as he imagined Y/N's hand around him instead of his own. It didn't take long for him to spill into his hand, and unfortunately, it took even less time for the guilt to slam into him at the realization of what he'd done.

After that night, Spencer had vowed to himself that he wouldn't let it happen again, knowing just how inherently wrong it was to jerk off to the sight of his neighbor (the woman he secretly admired) getting undressed when she had no idea she had even been watched.

But tonight, alone and frustrated in his hotel room, he was struggling to stick to that vow.

After another hour of tossing and turning in bed, Spencer released a resigned sigh. "Just this once," he murmured to himself, swallowing hard. He let his hand slip underneath the waistband of his boxers to push them down his thighs before spitting in his palm, hissing at the contact as his hand wrapped around his arousal. His eyes fluttered shut as his imagination began to take over, his hand slowly increasing its pace as images of Y/N and her lacy panties raced through his mind.

Spencer's mouth hung open as his thumb swiped over the swollen tip of his cock, a bead of precum oozing out and aiding his movements. He pictured her hovering above him, her gaze teasing as she stroked him faster and faster. He imagined how she'd sound as she talked him through it, her sweet voice luring him closer and closer to the edge. His hips bucked into his hand as his climax took hold of him, a choked moan of Y/N's name ripping its way from his throat as he painted his heaving chest with his cum.

With shaky hands, he cleaned himself, still dizzy from the aftershocks of his orgasm. After wiping himself off, he collapsed onto the bed, surrendering to the exhaustion that weighed him down. That night, his dreams were filled with Y/N—her radiant smile, her captivating voice, and the tenderness in her eyes whenever they met his. When he woke the next morning, breathless and murmuring her name, he realized he was in deep.

What Spencer didn’t know was that Y/N had known exactly what she was doing all along.

From the moment she reached for the same book as him—an act carefully planned to give her an excuse to talk to him—she’d been captivated by the stuttering genius. New to the neighborhood, she had noticed him a few times before finally gathering the courage to make her move. All it took was his flustered "Oh! I-I’m so sorry, here—" paired with furrowed brows and those wide, innocent eyes, and she was utterly entranced.

When Y/N discovered that Spencer lived right across from her, it felt like she’d hit the jackpot.

After their previous encounters, she’d quickly noticed the effect she had on him, and from that moment, she devised a plan to capture his attention. She began with subtle moves, leaving her curtains open one night so he’d realize she was the one across from him. She chose an outfit she was sure would draw his gaze, and when he nearly ripped his curtain rod off the wall, convinced she’d caught him looking, she knew she’d succeeded.

When Y/N noticed he was waking up earlier, watching her get ready with curious eyes over what he clearly thought was a cleverly placed book (which, in reality, did nothing to hide his attention), she decided it was time to raise the stakes.

The first time she undressed with the curtains open, she sank to her knees cackling at how quickly Spencer had scrambled out of bed to shut his own. The second time, she relished in how he hesitated before shutting his curtains so he could catch a glimpse of her lacy panties (ones she’d chosen with him in mind), but it still wasn't enough. By the third time, she was done teasing. She’d stripped down completely bare in her room, grinning smugly as she turned to walk into her bathroom because she’d seen Spencer not-so-subtly peeking through his curtains.

When Spencer still didn’t make a move after that, Y/N decided she was done waiting.

With him away on a case for the past three days, she saw the perfect opportunity to set her new plan in motion. After work one evening, she made her way to his building, quickly locating his apartment number—a detail that, to her surprise, matched hers. Smiling to herself, she placed her order and waited for him to return, ready for the next phase of her plan to unfold.

After nearly twelve grueling days away, Spencer finally returned late Friday night, aching for the comfort of home—and, more importantly, the sight of Y/N. Exhausted, he stumbled up the stairs to his apartment, eager to collapse into bed and wake up to her face rather than the grim case photos that had dominated his thoughts. His eyes half-lidded with fatigue, he fumbled with the key, unlocking the door before shoving it open.

“Oh! What the-“

Spencer cursed under his breath as he stumbled, his eyes dropping to the package at his feet. Frowning, he bent down slowly to inspect it. He hadn’t ordered anything, and there was no reason to expect anything from his mom. So... what was this?

The package was a light pink, medium-sized bag. Spencer nudged it onto its other side to check the sender, and his breath caught. It was addressed to Y/N, though she’d written the wrong number in the street address, causing it to end up at his door. He instantly recognized the name of the online boutique, having (unfortunately) heard Emily, JJ, and Penelope brazenly talk about ordering sex toys and such from this place.

What could Y/N have possibly ordered from there?

Spencer was wide awake now, his pulse quickening as he grabbed the package, slammed the door shut, and locked it. He carried it into the kitchen, turning on the light as he went. There was no way he’d open it—he knew that would be both illegal and downright creepy. But his curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn’t resist running his hands over the package, trying to guess what was inside.

His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth as he carefully handled the package, giving it a slight squeeze. He could feel the soft outline of fabric inside a smaller plastic bag, his mind spinning with possibilities about what kind of set Y/N might have ordered. A small, involuntary gasp escaped him as his fingers brushed against something hard, separately wrapped from the lingerie. Was that… a dildo? Vibrator, maybe?

A quick glance at the clock told him it was far too late to return her package now. He swallowed, setting the bag down on the table with a mental note to take it to her first thing in the morning. He had the weekend off, and he knew she didn’t work weekends, so it wouldn't be a problem bringing it over. The only problem was going to be looking her in the eyes without turning into a complete mess.

Spencer rushed to his room, his excitement growing as he headed to bed, knowing he’d finally see Y/N tomorrow—in person, not just through her window.

The morning arrived quicker than he had expected, but for the first time, he was happy to hear his alarm. It was 9:30 a.m., giving him enough time to shower and get dressed before making the short walk to Y/N's apartment. More importantly, it would give her a chance to wake up before he just showed up at her door with her package in hand and rambling like a nervous mess.

Spencer’s nerves began to take over as he finished his shower and started getting dressed, his hands trembling as he pulled on his sweater. The last time they'd spoken was when he'd all but face-planted into concrete in front of her and then practically bolted off once she'd helped him gather his things (after a lengthy, awkward apology of course). What if she thought he was a freak?

Before he could talk himself out of it, Spencer took a deep breath, grabbed the package, summoned the last of his courage, and walked out the door.

A hesitant knock at her front door had Y/N grinning smugly as she rose from the couch and headed toward the door. She’d been waiting for this since she’d seen Spencer’s light come on late the night before. Her package was finally here.

The door opened to reveal a nervous Spencer, his eyes lighting up when they landed on her. He instinctively adjusted his glasses, his nose twitching as a small, shy smile appeared on his face.

"Spencer! Hey! What brings you by?" Y/N beamed, stepping aside to let him in. She had to suppress a giggle at her innocent act—she knew exactly why he was here.

Spencer blinked in surprise, both at her invitation and the fact that she remembered his name, pausing briefly before stepping into her apartment. His gaze wandered around, taking in the cozy surroundings with quiet admiration. When he realized she was waiting for him to speak, he cleared his throat, his face flushing as he held up the package.

"I, uh… I just wanted to return this," Spencer stammered, his words tripping over each other. "You had one number wrong on the street address, and, funny enough, we have the same apartment number, so it ended up at my door. I thought the least I could do was bring it over, especially after you helped me when I… well, fell." He offered a shy smile, his nerves still running rampant.

Y/N accepted the package with a smile, her fingers brushing lightly against his before he quickly pulled his hand back. "I could’ve sworn I got the address right this time," she said with a teasing laugh. "You’d think after a few months here I’d have it down by now, I'm sorry."

Spencer quickly shook his head, trying to ignore the rapid beating of his heart and the lingering sensation of her touch as he waved it off. "You don’t need to apologize, Y/N. It happens," he said sincerely, his fingers nervously twisting the ends of his sleeves now that the package was no longer in his hands. "Honestly, I wouldn’t mind bringing your mail by anytime. I just hate the thought of it sitting at my door or in my mailbox while I’m away," he chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he gave her a warm smile.

"Well, aren't you quite the gentleman?"

Y/N placed the package on her coffee table and then headed toward the kitchen, gesturing for Spencer to follow. He blushed profusely, swallowing hard as he willed away the dirty thoughts that were caused by that simple comment before trailing after her. She turned to look at him over her shoulder as she reached into her cabinet for two mugs, smirking to herself as she noticed him quickly avert his gaze from where it had landed on her ass.

Y/N placed the mugs on the counter, then turned to Spencer with a genuine smile. "Thanks for bringing it to me instead of just sending it back like most people would," she said. "How about a cup of coffee as a small token of my appreciation?"

Spencer nodded, thanking her as she fixed them both a cup. She raised an eyebrow, watching him add enough sugar to send a horse into cardiac arrest, but she kept quiet. Once they’d both prepared their cups to their liking, they headed back to the living room, Y/N sitting close enough that Spencer could feel the warmth of her body radiating toward him.

"So... did you take a peek inside of it?"

Spencer coughed violently, choking on the sip he’d just taken, his face turning a deep shade of scarlet as he frantically shook his head. Y/N’s expression shifted to concern as she patted his back, gently rubbing in soothing circles to help him catch his breath.

"What? N-no, I would never! That's literally illegal and so invasive—" Spencer sputtered, his eyes wide as he stared at her, clearly taken aback.

Y/N's brows furrowed briefly before she erupted into laughter, her head tilting back as she laughed loudly. Leaning in, she rested a hand on his thigh, her tone softening. "Spencer, sweetheart, I was just joking," she said, wiping a tear of laughter from her eye.

He relaxed immediately, fighting the urge to lean into her touch as her hand lingered on his leg. "Thanks for that," Spencer said with a playful roll of his eyes. "Just what I needed this morning—choking on my drink and desperately hoping you knew the Heimlich maneuver." His cheeks were still flushed, a mix of embarrassment from her teasing and the aftereffects of his coughing fit.

After a pot of coffee and hours of conversation, Spencer left with a grin so wide his cheeks ached and Y/N’s number saved in his phone "just in case any more of her mail ended up at his door." He silently thanked whatever force had kept him from backing out earlier that day, grateful for the time he’d gotten to spend with her because of it. He’d found himself falling even harder for her, already yearning for her company despite having just left her place.

That night, as Spencer climbed into bed, something caught his eye from his window. He frowned in confusion as he noticed Y/N’s curtains were open even though they’d been closed just an hour ago. He’d assumed she’d already gone to bed, but apparently, he was mistaken.

He craned his neck, searching for her. She wasn’t in her room, as she usually was when the curtains were open. Where could she be? His jaw nearly hit the floor when she finally appeared, his eyes widening in awe at the sight of her.

Y/N walked into her room from the bathroom, wearing the most stunning lingerie set Spencer had ever seen. The lilac fabric complemented her skin in a way that had him almost drooling on himself, and the thin lace left little to the imagination (though he'd already seen what was underneath it once before and knew exactly how incredibly sexy her body was bare). The sight had his cock stiffening in his boxers, and his teeth dug into his lower lip in anticipation as he watched her.

Spencer nearly toppled out of bed as he watched her crouch down to grab her torn-open package, her hand reaching inside to pull out a light-blue rabbit vibrator. He knew he should get up, close the curtains, look away—do something. But he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Instead, he watched in an almost trance-like state as Y/N crawled onto her bed, swallowing hard as she settled back against her pillows. His hand wandered down his body, palming at his erection over his boxers as a whimper slipped from his lips while he watched her legs spread slowly open, propped up and giving him the perfect view of her clothed pussy. He felt overwhelming guilt, especially after the morning they'd shared, but he was powerless against the pull she had on him.

The close proximity of the buildings had always annoyed Spencer, the narrow space between them so tight he swore he could reach out and touch the other building if he tried. But now, he couldn’t have been more grateful. His bed was on the opposite side of the room that Y/N’s was, leaving her perfectly positioned for him to see her from his spot.

Y/N dragged the tip of the vibrator up and down her inner thigh, teasing herself as the fabric of the lace dampened with her arousal. Her head lolled back against the pillows, and her chest rose and fell with a sigh as she finally placed the vibrator against her clit through her panties. Her back arched at the touch, and her lips opened around a moan he desperately wanted to hear.

Spencer considered himself a sane man (for the most part). But he had never been more tempted in his life to leap through a window than he was right now. If it meant landing in her room so he could at least have the chance to beg for a taste of her, he'd happily do it.

His hand halted its movement, instead moving to his waistband so he could wriggle out of the constricting fabric. He kicked his boxers to the floor like they'd scorned him before his hand wrapped around his cock once more. He leaned forward, letting saliva dribble from his lips to coat himself before stroking himself slowly, teasing himself the way Y/N was right across from him in her room.

When Y/N dipped the vibrator into her panties, Spencer's breath hitched in his throat. He watched in rapt fascination as she paused her movements, her free hand shoving the lace down her thighs before she continued. With the fabric now out of the way, Y/N began to run the tip of the vibrator up and down her slit, collecting her arousal and spreading it around before she slowly eased the toy into herself.

An obscene moan ripped its way from Spencer's throat at the sight, and his hand sped up while his eyes struggled to stay open. He watched through hooded lids as she began to fuck herself in earnest now, her hips rocking into the toy and her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as she brought herself to the edge. Spencer whimpered as his body began to writhe against his sheets, sparks of pleasure zinging up and down his spine as he worked himself toward his climax.

All it took to send him over the edge was the sight of Y/N's legs thrashing as she came around the toy, a sight that left him both so aroused he couldn't breathe and so jealous of a toy he debated just how truly sane he considered himself to be after this. With a swipe of his thumb over his flushed head, Spencer came in spurts across his tummy, his hand pumping gently through the aftershocks until he was trembling and gasping Y/N's name like it was a mantra.

Once Spencer could finally open his eyes, he looked over at Y/N's window and saw she was no longer in bed, the soft light spilling from under her bathroom door the only sign of where she was. He rolled out of his bed to indulge in what was now becoming a routine walk of shame to his bathroom to clean himself off, his head spinning from what he'd just seen. He knew the shame of his actions would catch up with him in the morning, but for now, exhaustion and elation kept him from caring.

Spencer stumbled back into his room, half-asleep and ready to crash when his phone buzzed. Crawling into bed, he reached for it, curious about who would be contacting him at this hour. His heart stuttered in his chest, eyes widening in shock as he read the message on the screen.

Glad to see that you enjoyed the show, sweetheart. Next time, just come over. <3

Continued A/N's: AHHH I truly hope you guys enjoyed that! The next part gets FILTHYYYY and I can't wait to finish it hahahaaaa. Please let me know what you think because I'm thinking of doing more in the future that would be similar but of course I want to make content you guys will actually enjoy as well <3

REMINDER: I do not give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please just ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[stardust-thief]

look after you

an: this my first x reader fic LMAOO, i needed to write smth and this spencer was on my brain :// i am in the middle of a rly long donna fic but i cba this was much easier. also i absolutley have not proof read this sorry

synopsis: you get hurt while hunting down an unsub, after some reluctance (and kind words from papa rossi) you let spencer take care of you, 1.7k words

cw: descriptions of violence, panic attack, spencer swears and can drive (the most un-canon thing abt him) umm italians..., the rest is just fluffy, hurt/comfort, x reader but no y/n

masterlist

The unsub had his gun pointed at you, the cold press of the barrel against flesh. He was ranting and raving about needing to be seen and understood, having spent his childhood in emotional neglect. Teachers and parents failed him at every turn, it’s not his fault that this happened but he can fix it if he just drops the gun. Rossi tried to tell him this over and over, but he only got more angry, pushing the gun in harder and harder. 

If you were to open your eyes, you would’ve seen JJ and Luke there too, guns trained on the unsub. Their eyes glancing between you, the unsub, and the gun. But you didn’t. Not until the bang went off and you could breathe again. 

The flashing lights of the ambulance do nothing to dissuade the pressing headache you feel coming on, the movement of people helps even less. You watch as the EMT’s cart the unsub away on a gurney, sheet covering him. 

“You okay, kid?” Rossi asks from beside you, he had been hovering ever since the ambulance arrived. 

“I’m fine, just need a good night's rest. I’ll be good as new.” You hummed half-heartedly. 

David Rossi always knew when someone was lying to him, part of that talent comes from his job as a profiler, but it’s mostly because of some ancient Italian magic. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that to me. Look, Hotch is on his way with Reid and Emily. They’re gonna be taking some witness statements, but I imagine Boy Wonder will be a little distracted. I want you to let him take care of you, ok? You’ve been through hell tonight kid, let him worry.”

Italians never lie, although you wish they did. Spencer had very obviously caught feelings for you, everyone on the team could see it. Unfortunately, so could you. Spencer Reid was one of the kindest, most genuine people you had ever met, always putting other people's needs before his own. A voice in your head kept telling you that there is nothing you have done to deserve someone like him doting all over you? You had only brought trouble to the people who loved you. Eventually you learned that it was better to just keep everyone at a distance; if you don’t let them in, they can’t get hurt. Which worked well, up until Spencer.

He had such a wormy way of getting into your brain at the worst times; whether it was when you were alone in your kitchen, or at slightly dangerous, very inappropriate times on a case. You couldn’t stop thinking about him and his stupidly cute (and sometimes ill-timed) facts. Some part of you wanted to let him in, in the end the stubborn side always took over. 

Before long, you heard the worried cries of Spencer trying to find you in the chaos. Rossi called his name and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Remember, you deserve to be looked after too.” and left to find Hotch.

“Oh my god, are you okay? We tried to get here as soon as we could, but they managed to take down the unsub right? What happened, did he hurt you? How did you get so close? Talk to me are-” Oh, how he rambles. 

“Spencer, I’m fine. I just need to… rest, you know. He didn’t hurt me that bad, just a sprained wrist, couple bruises. Could’ve been worse.”

He spluttered, “Could’ve- you know, that doesn’t make this any better, I was so worried about you. He had a fucking gun to your head, I was going insane thinking about what could’ve happened. What did the EMT say about your wrist?”

“Just to rest it, and use an ice pack if it starts to swell or hurt.” You couldn’t look him in the eye, he was so worried about you. It made butterflies dance in your belly, but there was a twinge of guilt there too. He was so busy, he worked so hard and then went home to look after his mom. He had too much on his plate, how could you add more to it? “Spence, I’m really sorry about worrying you. I should be fine to leave now, so I’ll just head home and sleep it off. Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the ambulance, eyes focused downwards, restless fingers fidgeting with the already frayed bandage.

“No- wait what are you talking about? You’re gonna drive yourself home in this condition? I can’t let you do that, even thinking about it makes me feel sick.” He lowered his head to yours and spoke softer this time, “Please let me take you home. I don’t have to stay, I just want to make sure you’re ok, ok?”

Fuck that voice did things to you. Leaning from side to side, you thought about what Rossi had said earlier. Maybe, it was ok to let someone in? It would be cruel to let him suffer more, not knowing if you were ok or somehow got in a car crash with 5 other vehicles on your way home. Just this once, you think.

Looking up into his soft eyes, you give a small nod. His lips immediately turned up into a smile, his hand comes up to cup your head, fingers stroking your cheek. It felt… nice. His thumb was calloused but he still moisturised enough for it to feel smooth, and he smelled like lemongrass and ginger. His hand fell to the small of your back as he guided you to his car. Ever the gentlemen, he opened your door and softly placed his hand over your head as you got in. Manoeuvring himself into the driver's side, he pulled out his phone and typed something, then quickly stuffed it away into a pocket and turned on the engine.

The sky was dark when you woke up. The unsub had a gun to your head at dusk, and Spencer was walking into your apartment when the moon was out. He took off his shoes and the door, and walked into your living room.

“I’ve never been here before,” he mused. “I like it.”

He looked at ease wandering around your apartment, his shoulders had relaxed and he let out soft musings as he perused your photo collections.

“Oh Spencer, not that one, it’s embarrassing!” You tried (with not a lot of effort) to pull him away from the frame.

“No this is cute, was this when you were at University?” He asked, wrapping an arm around you.

Oh my god. “Yeah, um- those were some of my friends at the time. I try and keep in touch but, you know.”

He hummed, pulling you closer into him. Finally content, he looked down at you. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s ok,” you shrugged, “just a little tender now.”

“Where’s your kitchen, I can get some ice.”

“Spence-” you wanted to tell him no, to go home and look after himself. But his body was so warm, having him so close to you melted your brain, leaving you unable to think of any good reason as to why he should leave. “It’s the first door on the right.”

His grip tightened for a moment before he swiftly navigated you to the sofa, and turned to leave for the kitchen. The cold of the apartment rushed to get you as soon as he unraveled his arms. You hadn’t been alone all day since the unsubs attack, it somehow felt more claustrophobic. His hand on your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. The way he grabbed your arm, contorting it so he could throw you to the ground. The gun, pressed into your forehead. The knowledge that the only thing between you being alive, and you being in a ditch, was a madman's finger on the trigger. Reality faded as each memory pressed further and further into your mind. You weren’t in your apartment anymore, you could feel the cold concrete beneath your hands. The thick air in your lungs, Rossi and the unsub shouting.

A hand on your knee, a soft voice bringing you back. There was no unsub, no gun to your head. You were alive. You were alive and Spencer was in your apartment, wiping the tears that had fallen down your face.

“You with me?” His voice was so soft, you couldn’t recall ever hearing Spencer raise his voice in anger. He was so gentle when he touched you. 

The floodgates burst, choked sobs made their way past your lips. Your shoulder shook as you cried, pressing yourself into Spencer’s arms. “Oh honey,” He murmured, pressing his lips into your head, softly rocking you back and forth as you sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. It was too much. You could have died today. Very nearly did. You weren’t ready to die, not yet at least.

As your cries softened into hiccups, you pushed yourself back from Spencer. “I’m sorry, that was so disgusting. It just all- I don’t know.”

 “Hey, you don’t ever have to apologise to me ok? What you went through was really scary, I’d honestly be more shocked if you didn’t cry.” His hand moved to draw soothing shapes along your back as you leaned back into him. “You want to watch something to calm down? I brought you some water and an ice pack for your wrist.”

He would be the death of you. You nod and push yourself back into the sofa, moving your wrist to rest in your lap. Spencer gently places the ice pack across your wrist and grips the tips of your fingers. He leans forward to push your cup of water towards you and grabs the TV remote, then turns and leans back so your side is pressed into his front. Truthfully, Spencer didn’t seem like the type to watch cable TV but he navigated the menu with somewhat ease. 

“Look at what’s on! It’s your favourite isn’t it, you want me to put it on.” He said as he nudged your shoulder.

He remembered your favourite film, of course he would remember it he has an eidetic memory. You hummed a yes as you relaxed your body further into his, finally content. Maybe Rossi was right, having Spencer close really wasn’t so bad after all.

[themultifanshipper]

Sometimes, there's nothing like some heavy drinking and extreme cold to make sure best friends don't stay best friends.

You and Franco found this out the hard way.

Warnings: don't fuck on the beach guys it's really not a good idea, smut, belly bulge, squirting, alcohol, so many petnames I lost count, no good judgement to be found anywhere

I'll set the scene.

Winter break, at a beach house on the Argentinian coast, at night.

Everyone is sleeping, the only sound that can be heard is the waves crashing on the sand.

You and Franco were indeed best friends. And deeply, deeply in denial about your feelings for each other.

You followed him everywhere, fucking up your education to go to all his races, ever since you were 14.

And he never had a girlfriend because... well, how could he even look at other girls when you were around?

Now you were 23, and he'd fucked around a bit, and so had you. But it was never anything serious, drunken one night stands mostly.

But there you were, on the beach at 2 in the morning, playing a game of drunk hetero-chicken.

Like gay chicken, but longer and more painful to watch.

It involved throwing back shots, and running into the ocean.

The twist was that the ocean was fucking cold when there was no sun to warm you up, and there was only so much the cheap tequila could do, so once you were in the water you had to huddle up to share body heat.

It was only a matter of time before the huddling turned to groping.

You can't even remember who initiated the first kiss, but neither of you wanted to stay in the water for long after that.

Franco carried you out, your thighs firmly wrapped around his waist and his hands digging into your ass.

He set you down in the sand and climbed over you, shoving his way in between your legs.

You both knew what was about to happen, but were too fucking in love to care.

You whined at the stretch when the first of his thick fingers made its way into your quickly dampening cunt.

“It's okay, querida. Let me take care of you”

He bit your bottom lip at the same time as the second finger slipped in, both actions making you groan into his greedy mouth.

Mouth that decided to start traveling south and sucked a couple of bruises into your skin before going even further.

The hand that wasn't pumping in and out of you came up to pull at the string of your bikini, exposing your tits to him as he gulped and looked deep into your eyes.

“You are perfect, mi vida”

He leaned down and sucked one of your nipples into his mouth, making you arch into the sensation and he took the opportunity to slip a third finger in.

He hooked them upwards and you groaned your approval of his ministrations.

“Franco, fuck me- please”

“In a minute, baby, let me just-”

You looked down at this hand, and the sight of him slipping a fourth finger in was enough to make you clench around them, and he groaned, the squelch almost audible over the crashing waves.

“Fuck Franco, that's- I think that's enough, no?”

He chuckled. “I need to prepare you, the last thing I want is to hurt you. I am... uhh, big” he muttered, almost shyly, and if it hadn't been night-time you would have seen the blush creeping along his cheeks.

And if the bulge in his shorts was anything to go by, he wasn't lying.

You slipped a hand in the waistband, pulling them down slowly, and marveled at the thickness that met your touch.

Your fingers were barely long enough to wrap around him, and he grunted as you started pumping him slowly.

“Come on Franco, I won't break. I need you inside me, please”

And who was he to deny such a request.

Despite his inebriated state, he went slow, and was incredibly careful as he inched inside you with measured thrusts.

When his hips were finally flush with yours, you let out a wanton moan.

“Fuck, I'm so full”

“I know querida, just breathe”

He let you adjust at your own pace, kissing your neck in an effort to distract you from the intense stretch.

“Okay” you gasped out “You can move baby”

The first gentle thrust was eath-shattering and you couldn't help but let out a shrill cry, which spurred Franco on.

He lifted you with an arm around your waist, sitting back on his haunches and holding you up so that he could thust into you while you clung onto him, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

You came once like that, panting and moaning into his mouth, before he lay you back down and put your legs over his shoulders.

He pounded into you hard and fast while you squirmed and whined at the overstimulation.

“Franco, oh my god” you gasped, feeling the beginnings of another orgasm approaching and he chuckled when he felt your cunt squeezing him tighter.

“You can do another one for me, baby, can't you?”

He looked down at you with a sick smirk and you nodded.

He glanced further down and his jaw tightened at what he saw.

“Look baby, look how good I’m filling you”

You followed his gaze and landed on the slight bulge that appeared when he was fully inside you.

You moaned and he laughed, his hips speeding up.

“You like that, huh? Go on and rub yourself for me while I make you feel good”

You complied immediately, fingers going down to rub fast circles on your clit, and at the same time Franco put a hand over the bulge and pressed down.

You saw stars, literally and metaphorically as you spasmed around him, juices coating his hips and thighs, and seeping into the wet sand.

Your head was thrown back while you cried out his name into the night, and once you were sated he quickly pulled out and fisted his cock until the thick ropes of his cum landed on your thighs and soaked folds, mixing with your own release.

He leaned down to kiss you, not caring about lying in his own spend because, after all you just needed to have a dip in the water to clean off.

You lay like that for a bit, just kissing in the moonlight while the sound of the waves faded into the background.

After a while you separated and he chuckled.

“Thank god we are outside. I don't think I've ever made anyone squirt that much before.”

You slapped his chest lightly and giggled. “Franco!”

He smiled and leaned down to capture your lips once more.

“Come, lets go inside before we catch un resfriado”

You didn't know what that was, but you followed him anyway.

You took a long hot shower, and curled up together in bed, like you always did.

The next day you learned what a ‘resfriado’ is (it’s a fucking nasty bitch of a cold), and you also learned that Franco's poor mother had gotten up in the night to get a glass of water, and had the misfortune of looking out of the window.

She apparently got quite an eyeful of the filth that you two were getting up to.

[arrowheadedbitch]

He screams at them and throws some things then runs out, he ends up on a random rooftop when the anger wears off and he's all of a sudden bone tired and on the verge of tears, a second ago the tears forming in the corner of his eyes were from rage but now? Not so much.

He calls out Conner's name and Kon is there is almost less than a second, suddenly standing right behind him as Tim looks off the edge of the rooftop in that way bats always do for some reason.

"Tim, did something happen?! Are you alright!?" He asks

Tim turns around and Kon notices tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I think I broke the bat computer"

Thinking about the person who said that Tim and Damian's stories are so tragic when compared to eachother because Damian got to learn that he wasn't a tool and all Tim ever got was confirmation that he was

So, I'm imagining a one-shot were Tim walks in on Bruce telling Damian that he'd do anything to make sure he could trust him and just absolutely LOSES it

Because when Tim was Robin, Bruce went out of his way to MAKE SURE Tim didn't trust him, and now he's going out of his way to make sure Damian does? What the FUCK! What happened to "I'll never trust you again" "Good" !??? What happened to making sure everyone has the same amount of trust issues as you???

Bonus points if Alfred catches some strays because it isn't often that he deserves that and this is one of those rare moments where he definitely DOES.

If Alfred ever DESERVES to catch strays, it's gotta be for Jason's Memorial Plaque (a good soldier??? Fuck you, Alfred!) And Tim's 16th birthday. And I *love* 16th birthday related angst.

I want to see Tim lose his cool in a way none of them have ever seen, I want him to scream and cry and throw stuff and then run away, I need it to be BAD

Tl;dr- I wanna see Bruce give Damian things he refused to give Tim and I want Tim to be rightfully upset about it

[vmlnrzmp4]

nsfw

cw: reader's first time going full way, 3 different positions, porn w plot, no use of condom(don't be silly, wrap the willy.) a/n: i usually don't give cw, trying to keep the smut a surprise. i have proof read it, but i think there might be some errors. feel free to correct me.

the air around was charged as the shuffling, heavy pants and moans filled the room. it was another one of kaiser's and yours pathetic dry humping session.

his head leaning on the head-rest while his hands gripped your hips, urging your movements to go faster and faster and faster—till the both of you come undone.

you leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, the room filling with exhausted panting.

"so good angel," he kissed your temple, "so good."

but a word taunted you in your head. you faced him, meeting your eyes with his, "mihya...am i boring?"

"what are you saying angel?" he raised his eyebrow, clearly confused where that came from, "if this is about sex then no, you're not boring."

it had happened a day ago. you had gone out with your friends. sitting in a public cafe, talking about each other's sex life without a care, shamelessly—no matter how many people stared in surprise and disgust.

shortly after you and your friends were kicked out, the first thing they did was to drag you into a pharmacy. they told you to not to worry about the prescription. you wordlessly agree, taking the small rectangular box of birth control pills—so that you can stop with the boring sex life as your friends described it.

was it boring? sure you and your boyfriend never went any further that that and orals. but so lost in enjoying them, you never thought it would be considered boring and you got self conscious. what if he thinks like them? you worried.

"hey," kaiser cradled your face, his voice so gentle, "where did that come from?"

"tell me," you asked firmly, "do you ever wish to go further than this?"

"all the fucking time," he answered without hesitation, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, the lovely guesture contrast to his lewd words.

the silence that followed didn't take much time as you started unbuttoning his shirt. just when you were down to two, he gripped your wrist, "are you sure?"

"yes." your response was quick.

he smirked, giving you a go-ahead and you went back to undoing the buttons, not bothering to even take off the shirt off his shoulders as you ran your fingers on his chest to his abs.

you reached his belt, undoing it—him helping you take it off, discarding it somewhere on the floor unconcernedly. he then pulled over your shirt off, unclipping your bra, also throwing away your shorts alongwith your panties.

he asked you if you were sure again. you nodded but he needed words.

"i want this."

"that's my girl," he presses his face in the crook of your neck, "ride me."

the next moment you found him in you. you didn't move however. he didn't let you. telling you that he had to take care of your tits first, running his hands around them.

"i wanna move," you whined, your hands that rested on his shoulders dug into his skin. it didn't pain him. even if he did, he considered it pleasure.

"patience angel, wanna be a good girl for me, don't you?"

you hummed a yes, "i wanna...but i want to move."

"beg."

"please," you pleaded, "i wanna move, mihya...i wanna feel you more...so badly, please."

he smirked, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a shit eating grin as he coos at you, nodding at you to proceed.

it took you a bit by surprise when he moaned. yes, kaiser moaned. sure, the little pathetic sessions before had him grunting. but nothing compared to how he moaned now as you kept bouncing on his cock.

but other than that, the sight in front of him was to behold. you were getting there, he could tell by the way your bounces fastened and became irregular, following a certain pattern. his hands gripped your hips so tightly as he helps you bounce, the bed creaking and creaking.

the creaking finally stopped as the two of you reached peak and you slowed down, riding out your high.

"angel," he called out softly, "think you can go one more time?"

"yes, god, yes yes!" so lost in the moment, you threw the shame out of the window, letting arousal take over you.

he positioned you beneath him, as he littered kisses down your neck, collarbone—down to your tits, his tongue circling around your nipples without breaking eye contact.

your eyes roll to the back of your head as he aligned his cock in you. your leg over his shoulder, the other one spread out by his grip as he pounds into you with no mercy, "god," he breaths out, "look at you angel, so beautiful." oh how can his words be so lovely when he's fucking the sweet moans out of you.

"w-wait," you halt him.

"angel?"

"...kiss me, please?" and oh how could he say no? he leaned down, capturing your lips with his into a sweet kiss with simultaneously fucking you. he leans lower, biting into your shoulder, making you hiss.

"mihya...so—" you got interrupted when he hit the spot just right, letting a moan surpass your lips, "so c-close."

he chuckles at your pityful words, stopping and before you could even ask why he did so—he flips you around with a swift motion as his grip on your hips tighten, manhandling you to raise your ass upwards, your face squished in the pillow.

he pounds into you mercilessly from back. the room filling in with his moans, your muffled whimpers, the slapping sounds of the skin and creaking of bed. it was so so lewd.

"fuck angel...im not gonna last any longer. you close?"

you barely managed to choke out a muffled yes. at that, his movements grew erratic, though he didn't slow down.

he knew you came when he hears a loud cry of his name muffled. he thrusts into you a few more times as he cums inside you. pulling out, a groan escapes his lips as he sees his release dripping from your pussy.

he lays besides you, gently urging you to face him as he kisses you. he kisses and kisses. slow, fast, biting, licking. all of it, still having a gentle touch to it.

"you did so good angel," he pecks your forehead, "so good for me." he litters more kisses on your face, pulling you into his embrace, telling you how good you did, whispering sweet nothings.

"let's clean up yeah?" he exhales, "then i'll run to the store real quick."

"no need," you say.

"no need?" he questions, "what d'ya mean?"

"i um...brought plan B."

he lets out an airy laugh, "you were prepared, huh?"

"well..." you go on telling him about the conversation you had the day before. how your friends described their sex life. and when it came to you, they said what you and kaiser do was boring. he laughs at that, pulling you closer, calling you a dummy. he was thankful for it nonetheless.

"c'mon let's shower," he says, tho there was a tease in his tone, "another round?"

[boba-beom]

⋆⋆⋆ BOY FOR THE WEEKEND ⋆⋆⋆ | KANG TAEHYUN NSFW

PAIRING. secret fwb!taehyun x fem!reader

GENRE. smut

WC. 2.2k

SYNOPSIS. you're friends with an incredibly hot guy and ever since you started hooking up with taehyun for fun—and hanging out with his friends—you've managed to develop a little crush on one or maybe two of them. but why is it that you enjoy visibly jealous and touchy taehyun?

A/N. first fic of the year and it's been a while lol but this brainrot is atrocious. I might make this a per member series that could also be stand alones but we’ll see how it goes! homie hopping but make it with txt 🤭 enjoy my sweet cherries <3 warnings under the cut!

WARNINGS. ft. txt members, voyuerism, brat tamer ! taehyun, bratty ! reader, taehyun's also a lil jealous, fingering (fem rec), oral (fem rec.), pull out method (wrap it upp!), light dacryphilia kink, exhibitionist(?) (shared apartment), pet names;(baby, pretty etc.), ass slapping, cumshot, pw little plot

A silly summer fling was all you hoped for—casual sex, no strings attached—and that was how it went until you started hanging out with said fling and with his group of friends.

His hot friends.

It started with you and Taehyun eye-fucking each other from those occasional frat parties you were invited to during peak times in each semesters. Just something about his sex appeal made it feel like he was your best choice to fool around with. And you couldn't be more satisfied with your decision. There were a few times where he'd pour you a drink and you'd have small chats with him and your own friends, but when you were by yourselves it always led to drunk and heated make out sessions in empty bathrooms, or pressed up against the walls in the bare hallways on the way to the bedrooms.

You remember when you both started this 'secret' hook up; hanging out more than usual, and outside of college hours—more or less skipping a few classes when one or the other sent a frisky text.

Every time you and Taehyun hooked up you mentally took notes on how quick he knew about you and your body. Rough fucking with his hands gripping onto your hips until his nails left moon crescent indents in your skin, or the way he'd skim his soft, plush lips along your neck before nipping and sucking at it. He picked it up quicker than guys you previously hooked up with and that's what's made him your longest hookup as of date.

But one of your favourite parts about him? His slender and pretty fingers. Just the sight of them anywhere near, on or in you had you squirming with your thighs squeezed against each other until he uses them to help out your little issue.

Again, all this has only happened behind closed doors. No sign of physical affection in front of his friends or yours, or anyone in general for that matter. This secret only started because you both weren't ready for relationships despite your friends' failed attempts at setting you up with other guys in your university, and if you were both to slowly merge your friendships, you'd try your best to not make it weird.

Yet you're here sitting next to him in his shared house with his friends, one of his hands resting on your lap with his thumb caressing random patterns on your inner thigh. His friends are too distracted playing a four-player game on the console, screaming and yelling at each other for their failing teamwork.

"Fuck it man, you're too old to be on my team!" Beomgyu's voice bellows throughout the living room, "I'd rather have Hueningkai on me team I swear."

"Gyu shut the fuck up right now, be grateful I didn't leave you to go against Kai and Soobin alone. Or would you rather have Taehyun on your team?" Yeonjun seethes through his teeth, and his knuckles turning while from the grip on the controller.

"Never mind." Beomgyu audibly pouts.

One thing you loved about hanging out with Taehyun and his friends was the free entertainment that came along with it. The bickering between Yeonjun and Beomgyu especially had you laughing to yourself, but when the hand on your thigh squeezes a little too hard to be classes as affectionate, you let out a yelp loud enough to have a head or two turning—you had never seen Taehyun move his hand away from you so fast.

Soobin looks away from the screen momentarily, brows briefly raised at the closeness between you and his housemate. "You good?" He had always been the sweetest among the five of them when it came to being overprotective about you.

"Uh, yeah- I'm fine Bin, Taehyun just-"

"I was just gonna take her to my room to rest, she's not feeling too good right now, right?" He feigns a pout followed by a hand rubbing your back, probably a little lower than where Soobin could even see.

"Alright, let us know if we're too loud and we'll try be quieter for you." Soobin flashes you a dimpled smile and resumes beating his opponents asses in their games.

── .✦

"I didn't tell you to stop, did I?" Taehyun pushes your legs wider on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to suck your fingers covered in your sheer slick.

You refrained from rolling your eyes back from the lewd sight of him shirtless, honey skin under the warm light, and kneeling on his bedroom floor, but you would prefer to have his tongue working its magic on your clit.

"You know fucking around with me isn't going to get you fucked by them." He states, voice raspy and low.

"Yeah? Jealous I might enjoy your homeboys' dicks better than yours?" You sneer back at him, teasing him with the way your fingers make their way back to your dripping hole, two fingers slowly sinking in and bringing it back up to rub your clit in slow circular motions.

Taehyun scoffs, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer to him as he kneels higher. "Say that again and I'm never fucking you again. I know you love this dick too much to ditch me like that, isn't that right, sugar?"

A groan bubbles in your throat, you refuse to agree with him knowing it wouldn't be fun that way. What do you do instead? Exaggerate a shrug and faking to think long and hard, but that only pisses Taehyun off further.

He stands up straight, and your eyes trail down his toned abs and lands on his bulge, nice and prominent in his grey sweats. He pushes you so your back hits the bed, and you know you're starting to like this a little more than your previous hookups—given that this is the first time you're about to get fucked with his closest friends just on the other side of his bedroom door.

You shuffle higher up on his bed still holding eye contact with him as the bed dips from his knees shifting weight towards you, and while he hovers over your figure his lips attaches themselves to your neck. Slow kisses descending to your chest was enough to have your breath slightly hitching, loving the way his tongue flicks against your nipples until he drags the wet muscle down your stomach.

"Mmhm, please." You instantly beg, lifting your hips up to his face only for him to shove your hips back against the bed.

"No," his eyes darkened from his pupils dilating, "you get what I give you, now be a good girl and wait."

You prop yourself up on your elbows knowing that he'll give you what you want if you oblige, but pissing him off when he thinks you're about to finally listen to him was too fun. Taehyun spreads your legs nice and wide with the view of his head going straight between your thighs, light bites and sucking around your core, leaving teeth indentations in your plush skin. And finally, the feeling of his long, leisurely strokes of his tongue over your clit had your head reeling.

Soft whimpers fall past your lips, indecisive whether you should've bitten your tongue and held back, but if there was any other way to rile up Taehyun, it was to talk about his friends while his tongue's buried between your legs.

"Shit Tae, I really under estimated you." You bury your fingers in his dark locks, tugging them and only receiving groans from him, but that only led to aggressive vibrations to your core. "I sometimes thought about Yeonjun's thick lips, mmhm, but you're doing a great job too, sweetie."

The movement from his tongue stops, and he lifts his head to look at you dead in the eye; strong, thick brows scrunching in pure disbelief. It worked. "Is that so?" He says unamused, aligning a single digit against your entrance. Not giving you the chance to gradually get used to the minimal stretch, he shoves another finger, slightly curling it up the same way your toes were subtly curling.

"Oh fuck." You gasp, bringing a hand up to squeeze your tits, rolling your nipples between your fingers. You knew Taehyun loved it when you did that, but he was to smug to give in so quickly.

"And you really thought you were able to leave me? Admit it, baby, I'm too good." He leans over you again, one hand holding himself above you and the other still fucking inside your cunt. The smell of his cologne literally sticks to his skin, he doesn't even need to wear clothes and he's just so perfect that way. "Sweet, sweet angel," his voice is hoarse in your ear, "you look so pretty getting fucked by my fingers, but I'm sure you'd look heavenly with my dick stretching you out again, yeah?"

You want to refuse just to play around with him a little more, but you want him bad. You give up and nod your head, looking ridiculously desperate to be fucked dumb and that's exactly what you'll receive. Taehyun takes his fingers out of you, separating them and watching your slick form a string until it cuts off and he shoves them into your mouth, tongue swirling at the sweet taste of your own cream.

He pulls his dick out of his precum-stained joggers, of course he didn't wear boxers when he knew you'd be over, but who were you to complain? Aligning his coke-can girth cock at your entrance was always something you'd look forward to, and once you feel the stretch and he feels the grip, you both simultaneously let out guttural moans. His hands gripping onto your hips, pulling you up his girth as he kneels back, plowing into you harder than you've experienced with him before, and you loved it.

The pace picks up, head empty, heavy cock jack hammering into you like there's no tomorrow, and his sweat's already gathering in his hair that had covered his forehead. Sometimes you didn't know if Taehyun's aware about his strength, but every hit of his tip against your cervix brought tears to your eyes, and the delicious sound of his grunts was enough to have you clenching around him. But instead of stopping, he fucked you through it.

"Go on," his voice shakes, sweat dripping on your collarbone, "let them hear you scream on my dick, I'm sure they have their ears pressed up against the door with their dicks hard. You'd love that, wouldn't you?"

"F-fuck baby, yes, yes, I would!" You moan louder than you intended, no fear whether the boys on the other side of his bedroom door would've heard you or not.

But Taehyun's devious smirk only has your brows scrunching in confusion, your chest heaves as he flips you onto your stomach and inserts himself back inside you, but his hips don't move.

"Fuck yourself on it." His growl accompanies a slap on your left ass cheek, "or do you want me to call Yeonjun and Beomgyu in here to watch me fuck this cunt until you're creaming all over me?"

"Tae-" You whine, slowly rocking yourself back and forth. The change of position felt too good, the curve of his cock hitting the jackpot.

"'Tae' what?" He mocks you, slapping your ass again but gripping onto it, hard enough to leave indents of his fingernails.

"So good, so sooo good, shit-" You gasp, almost borderline sob when you reach down to play with your clit.

Taehyun scoffs, amused. "You're so fucking shameless, crying on my dick and still thinking about flirting with my friends." He leans over, his chest against your back, and his hand reaches around to replace yours. As soon as he heard your sharp, staccato inhales he latches his lips onto the back of your neck, trailing along your shoulder blades and whispering against your back to talk your through your high. You collapse your chest against the bed, arching your back while his hips continues the movement.

"Cum for me, big boy." You sigh.

The sound of your whining sent shivers down his spine, head thrown back and eyes scrunched shut, hips stuttering and about to still. "Almost there, pretty."

He pulls out, vigorously stroking his length, grunting and moaning once warm spurts of white ribbons decorated your back and the plump of your ass. Once the last drop landed on you, you giggle, rocking back to find his tip with your entrance and fill yourself up with his thickness again. Obsessed wasn't even the right word to describe sex with Taehyun. It was a necessity. Not a want, but a need.

Taehyun hisses behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his sweaty forehead against your back before deciding on whether he's about to go for another round, but his still erect dick already determined there will be. "Good girl. Let me stay here a little while, gotta make sure this pussy's nothing but the perfect mold for my dick."

You caress his forearms hugging you, humming while he catches his breath, but you see your phone screen light up on the side of the bed. Turns out the boys had stopped playing a while ago and only two of them were left in the living room. Yeonjun and Beomgyu.

Yeonjun, 8 mins ago I knew you guys were fucking, ur so loud tf

u guys aren't exclusive tho right?? 😏

Beomgyu, 9 mins ago are u feeling better now?

bc, shit y/n 🫠 me next???

"Hm? Did someone text you?" Taehyun groans, but he starts kisses up and down your spine.

"Hm?" You feign to be oblivious. "Nah, no one, babe. You good for one more?"

You were amused for sure. These two have always thought with their dicks as long as you've known them. And who were you to refuse? Maybe Taehyun isn't gonna be your only source of relief.

© BOBA-BEOM ; do not repost, alter, translate, or claim as yours on here or any other platform.

Let me know what you guys thought 🤭 and feedback is much appreciated <33 I'm so nervous bc I haven't posted anything properly for months and ik this may seem rusty but onto bigger and better things omfg

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[lizziesangel]

hi lizzy !! using the tell me who did this” “who did this to you?” trope could u do sweetheart!fem reader with this and rafe !! 🤍

hi! i already did a story on this, so im making a part two to this!🥰

3.5k words ⟢ part one

the truck ride was quiet, save for the hum of the engine. you stared out the window, expecting rafe to take the usual turns toward your neighborhood. but as the minutes ticked by, your brows furrowed.

“uh, this isn’t the way to my house,” you pointed out, finally breaking the silence.

“i know,” rafe said simply, his gaze locked on the road ahead.

you turned to look at him, your confusion mounting. “then where the hell are we going?”

“my place,” he said flatly, gripping the steering wheel tighter.

“your place? rafe, no. just take me home,” you argued, sitting up straighter.

“for the love of God,” he snapped, pulling into his driveway and putting the truck in park. he turned to look at you, his blue eyes burning with frustration. “stop talking and get out so i can clean you up.”

the way he said it left no room for argument. your mouth opened to retort but snapped shut just as quickly. begrudgingly, you unbuckled your seatbelt and climbed out, following him up the front steps like a scolded child.

inside, the house was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioning the only sound. rafe didn’t say much, just jerked his head toward the stairs as he kicked off his shoes. you followed, your steps hesitant as you trailed him into his room.

“sit down,” he ordered, gesturing to the edge of his bed as he rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a first-aid kit.

you sat down, watching as he opened the kit and grabbed a clean cloth and a small bottle of antiseptic. the scent of his cologne lingered in the air, sharp and somehow comforting.

“this might sting,” he warned, crouching in front of you. his touch was surprisingly gentle as he dabbed at the dried blood on your knee.

you winced but stayed still, watching him work. his brows were furrowed in concentration, his usual smugness replaced with something quieter, steadier.

“start talking,” he said after a moment, his tone calmer now. “what happened with ruthie?”

you hesitated, the memory still raw. but there was something in the way rafe looked at you—like he genuinely wanted to know.

“she was saying stuff about kie,” you admitted, your voice soft. “calling her a trashy pogue, saying she was probably stealing from people at the party. i told her to shut the fuck up, and she got in my face. said i was defending kie because i’m just as pathetic as her.”

rafe’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt, just kept cleaning the cut on your knee.

“i told her to back off, and she shoved me. when i didn’t drop it, she swung at me. the rest is kind of a blur,” you finished, looking down at your hands.

“you’ve got a pretty big mouth, you know that?” he muttered, taking your leg gently in his hand to examine the cut on your knee. “and look where it’s gotten you.”

you rolled your eyes, though your lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smirk. “yeah, but i still won.”

rafe snorted softly, shaking his head as he worked. “yeah? i bet you think you were tough, huh?” he dabbed at the cut, and you hissed, instinctively jerking your leg.

“hold still,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. his grip on your calf tightened just enough to keep you in place as he cleaned the wound.

“ruthie didn’t walk away looking perfect, if that’s what you’re asking,” you said, a small flicker of pride lighting up in your voice. “you should’ve seen her.”

rafe smirked, glancing up at you briefly before returning his attention to your knee. “don’t worry,” he said, his tone casual but with an edge that made your chest tighten slightly. “i’ll see her. up close.”

the way he said it—calm, measured, but dripping with barely restrained fury—made your stomach twist. you tried to brush it off as typical rafe bravado, but the intensity in his eyes made it clear: he wasn’t joking.

“this is gonna sting,” he warned before gently pressing the damp cloth to your skin.

you winced, gritting your teeth but refusing to pull away this time. he worked slowly, his brows furrowed in concentration as he cleaned away the dried blood and dirt.

“there,” he said, sitting back slightly to look at his work. “now let me see your nose.”

you hesitated but didn’t fight him when he tilted your chin up, his fingers brushing against your jaw. his eyes narrowed as he studied the dried blood smeared beneath your nostrils. “it’s not broken,” he said after a moment. “just banged up.”

“thanks for the expert diagnosis, dr. cameron,” you muttered, earning a faint chuckle from him.

“hold this,” he said, handing you the damp cloth before pulling out another small ice pack. he wrapped it in a towel and gently pressed it to your swollen eye.

you flinched at the cold, but he held it steady. “don’t be such a baby,” he teased, though his voice lacked any real bite.

“i’m not,” you shot back, your glare softened by the faint tug of a smile.

he smirked again, shaking his head. “you really do have a big mouth,” he said, leaning back against his desk once more.

you matched his smirk with one of your own. “yeah, well, i wouldn’t have it any other way.”

rafe’s expression darkened slightly, but it wasn’t directed at you. “good,” he said simply, his tone quiet but carrying a weight that made your stomach twist.

the cold stung, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating off him—his sudden intensity making it hard to breathe.

rafe pulled the ice pack away, out of your grasp, his gaze lingered on your face. his eyes narrowed as his thumb brushed along your jaw, tilting your face to the side.

“hold on,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“what?” you asked, your voice harsher than you intended.

he didn’t answer at first, leaning in closer. you froze, your breath hitching as his thumb moved just beside the bruise on your cheek. “there’s a cut here,” he said, his tone lower now. “i didn’t see it before.”

“it’s nothing,” you mumbled, trying to pull away, but his hand on your jaw stopped you.

“don’t,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. his blue eyes locked onto yours, holding you in place. “let me clean it.”

you wanted to argue, but the words caught in your throat. you were suddenly hyperaware of how close he was, the sharp line of his jaw just inches from you, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

he grabbed a fresh cloth, wetting it in the bathroom before crouching back in front of you. this time, he didn’t just lean in—he was so close his knees brushed yours, his fingers gently tilting your face toward him.

“stay still,” he murmured, his voice softer now but heavy with something unspoken.

the sting of the antiseptic barely registered. all you could focus on was the way his thumb brushed against your skin, the way his eyes stayed locked on yours even as he worked. the tension in the air was thick, electric, every small movement of his hand sending sparks skittering down your spine.

“you’re staring,” you blurted out, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

rafe’s lips twitched, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “yeah?” he said, his voice a low drawl. “can you blame me?”

your breath caught, and you opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. his smirk deepened as he pulled the cloth away, his thumb lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer than necessary.

“there,” he said, his voice softer now. “all cleaned up. you’re lucky it’s not deeper.”

you swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing. “thanks,” you mumbled, feeling a little unsteady under his gaze.

rafe didn’t move. he stayed crouched in front of you, his hand still resting lightly on your jaw. his eyes flicked over your face, studying every bruise and cut like they offended him personally.

“she really took you on, huh?” he said after a moment, his tone almost teasing but laced with something darker. “but don’t worry, i’ll take care of her.”

“rafe, you don’t have to—” you started, but he cut you off, his thumb brushing once more against your cheek before he stood.

“keep the ice on your eye,” he said, his tone suddenly businesslike as he packed up the first-aid kit.

you watched him move around the room, your mind still spinning from the charged moment you’d just shared. even as he turned away, you could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on you, like he wasn’t quite done with whatever was brewing between you.

and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to be.

rafe came back into the room after tossing the bloodied cloths and wrappers in the trash, running a hand through his hair. his shoulders looked less tense now, but his expression was unreadable as he glanced at you sitting there with the ice pack still pressed to your eye.

“you look like you’re about to pass out,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

“i’m fine,” you muttered in answer, though the exhaustion was catching up with you.

he tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “you can take my bed if you want.”

your eyes snapped to his, narrowing. “no thanks. i’ll take the couch.”

rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a smirk. “yeah, no. i’d rather have you dirty my bed than the ten-thousand-dollar couch.”

your jaw dropped. “you’re so stuck up.”

“and you’re about to sleep outside if you don’t shut up,” he shot back, but the slight grin on his face betrayed his teasing tone.

“okay, then i’ll walk home,” you said, shrugging, starting to push yourself up from the bed.

rafe’s amused expression immediately shifted to disbelief. “you’re not serious, right?”

you stood, wobbling slightly, and he rolled his eyes before stepping closer. “alright, that’s enough,” he said, lightly pressing his hand to your shoulder and guiding you back down onto the bed.

“lay down,” he said firmly, crossing his arms as he loomed over you. “keep the ice on your eye, but not too long. and put it on your knuckles too, because they’re gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow.”

you frowned, looking down at your hands. now that he mentioned it, the dull ache in your knuckles was growing more noticeable. you sighed, sinking back into the bed and adjusting the ice pack against your eye.

“there,” rafe said, a smug note in his voice as he watched you obey. “was that so hard?”

“shut up,” you grumbled, but your tone lacked any real bite.

he chuckled, shaking his head as he grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and tossed it over you. “just try not to bleed on my sheets,” he said, his voice softening as he lingered by the edge of the bed.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile tugging at your lips. “thanks.”

his gaze softened for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with a smirk. “yeah, yeah. just don’t get used to it.”

as he turned to leave the room, you settled back against the pillows, exhaustion finally taking over. you might’ve hated to admit it, but being here—being taken care of by rafe—didn’t feel as strange as it should have.

and somehow, that was the most unsettling part of all.

you woke up slowly, the first thing you noticed was the throbbing inside your head. your temples pulsed in time with your heartbeat, and every inch of your body felt like it had been through a war.

lightheadedness crept in as you sat up, forcing you to take a moment to steady yourself.

your knee ached, the sharp pain radiating up your leg with every slight movement. your cheek stung, and the skin around your eye felt tight. tentatively, you reached up to touch it, wincing when your fingers made contact with your skin.

turning your head, you spotted a glass of water on the nightstand with a couple of painkillers neatly placed beside it. a small note was folded underneath them, scrawled in rafe’s sharp handwriting: take these. don’t be stubborn.

you picked them up and tossed them back quickly, chasing it with a gulp of water. the coolness soothed your dry throat, but the pounding in your head didn’t ease right away.

dragging yourself out of bed, you padded toward the bathroom, each step a reminder of the bruises and cuts decorating your body. your knuckles ached with every flex of your fingers, and you clenched them instinctively, regretting it immediately.

inside the bathroom, the faint light from the small window illuminated the counter.

you noticed your eye wasn’t that swollen anymore, but when you brushed your fingers lightly over the skin, you winced. it was tender and, judging by the dark blue tint you glimpsed at in the mirror across from you.

your cheekbone was tender with a faint scratch, and your knuckles were red and swollen.

“great,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair.

you turned toward the sink, expecting to just splash your face with water, but something on the counter caught your eye: a toothbrush still in its packaging, resting neatly beside the toothpaste.

you hesitated, glancing over your shoulder like someone might catch you. but you needed it, and the sight of your dry, cracked lips in the mirror was enough to convince you.

tearing open the packaging, you squeezed some toothpaste onto the toothbrush and began scrubbing. the minty foam stung your lips, but it was your knuckles that hurt the most. every motion sent a sharp, aching throb through your hands, and you had to grit your teeth to keep from crying out.

“damn it,” you muttered, pausing to flex your fingers gingerly. but you pushed through, brushing until your teeth felt clean enough, then rinsing your mouth and the toothbrush.

leaning against the counter for a moment, you let out a long breath, staring at your reflection. this was… a lot. too much. and yet, you couldn’t help but think about rafe—the way he’d taken care of you last night, the strange softness in his otherwise sharp demeanor.

as much as you wanted to hate it, part of you didn’t mind.

shaking your head, you turned off the light and shuffled back toward the bedroom, trying to ignore the aching in your body—and the confused thoughts swirling in your head.

as you sat on the edge of the bed, debating whether to lie back down or try to shake off your lingering dizziness, muffled voices from downstairs made you freeze.

they weren’t just voices—they were angry, sharp, and escalating quickly.

“what the fuck?” you muttered under your breath, standing up too fast and immediately regretting it. the dizziness hit hard, making you grip the edge of the bed to steady yourself.

you needed to check what was going on, but not in yesterday’s crumpled clothes. opening the dresser on the far side of the room, you shuffled through the contents. most of it was clearly rafe’s—a mix of crisp shirts and athletic gear. but toward the back, you found a pair of dark blue sweats that looked about your size.

and then you spotted it: a pink t-shirt, soft and slightly worn, the kind of thing you instinctively knew wasn’t rafe’s style. sarah’s, you guessed. it didn’t really matter, so you pulled it over your head.

the shouting downstairs grew louder.

“seriously,” you sighed, trying to pull the sweats on without hurting your knee and tying the drawstring before heading toward the stairs.

when you reached the bottom, the voices became distinct.

“why the hell were you helping her, man?” topper’s voice was loud and furious. you peeked around the corner to see him standing toe-to-toe with rafe in the kitchen. his face was becoming red, and his fists were clenched at his sides.

“shut the fuck up before you wake the whole house,” rafe snapped, his voice low but seething.

“the only person here is wheezie,” topper shot back, waving his arms. “and don’t act like that’s the problem. you are!”

rafe took a step closer, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. “you’re the one yelling in my kitchen at eight in the damn morning, top. you need to fucking chill.”

topper didn’t back down. “chill? chill? ruthie said she hit y/n for a reason, bro. why the hell are you even involved? that girl’s not worth this.”

you froze, peering from the shadows as rafe straightened, his shoulders stiffening. “she’s worth not getting jumped by your psycho girlfriend,” he said coolly.

“she’s a fucking pogue!” topper yelled, his face twisting in anger.

rafe laughed, sharp and biting. “she lives on figure eight, you fucking weirdo. what are you even talking about?”

“doesn’t matter,” topper spat. “she’s trash, and if you’re protecting her, you’re just as bad. i’ll fucking kill her when i see her, for what she did to ruthie.”

your stomach dropped, and you instinctively stepped back.

rafe’s laugh was darker this time, the kind of sound that sent chills down your spine. “yeah? i’d like to see you try, bro.”

the kitchen fell silent except for the faint sound of your unsteady breathing. rafe had taken a step forward, his towering frame casting a long shadow over topper.

“you’re pushing it, man,” rafe said, his voice steady and dangerously calm. “if you have a problem with me, take it up with me. but if you so much as look at y/n the wrong way…” he trailed off, letting the weight of his words hang in the air.

topper looked like he wanted to say something, but the tension was suffocating.

you shuffled into view, clearing your throat. “hey,” you said, your voice shaky but loud enough to catch their attention.

both heads snapped toward you.

you watched as topper’s face twisted as his eyes landed on you, cycling through a chaotic mix of emotions—shock, disbelief, anger, and then a bitter fury. his tongue pressed against his cheek as a sharp, humorless laugh escaped him.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he sneered, glaring at rafe like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

rafe sighed heavily, rubbing a hand over his face like he was seconds from snapping. “top, just shut the hell up.” he stepped toward you, his hand brushing your arm to guide you back toward the stairs. “come on. let’s go.”

you frowned, resisting his pull. “wait, what’s going on?”

“she’s here?” topper’s voice was incredulous, loud enough to echo through the kitchen. he pointed at you, his finger shaking. “you’re actually keeping her here? what the fuck, rafe? she’s a pogue! she hangs out with those freaks on the cut—those wannabe rebels with their loser-ass surfboards and groupie bullshit!”

your stomach churned, but you didn’t get a chance to respond before rafe’s expression hardened.

“topper,” he warned, his voice low and deadly.

“no, bro!” topper exploded, gesturing wildly. “don’t stand there and act like she and kie didn’t see it happen last night. you know she’s not worth this!”

rafe’s jaw ticked, and he turned fully to face topper, a dangerous calm washing over him. “you’ve got ten seconds to get the hell out of my house.”

topper let out a disbelieving laugh, his tongue poking his cheek again as he tilted his head. “what the fuck are you doing, man? you’re choosing her? over me?”

“over you and over whatever bullshit you think matters right now,” rafe shot back, his voice sharp and unyielding. “and if you don’t walk out that door in the next five seconds, i’m calling my lawyer. i’ll have you trespassed so fast your head’ll spin.”

topper’s laugh turned into a snarl. “you’re fucking crazy.”

“maybe,” rafe said, his lips curling into a cold smirk. “but i’m also the guy who’ll have you eating court fees for breakfast if you don’t leave my house, now.”

the room fell silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing. topper glared at rafe, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. for a moment, you thought he might swing, but then he threw his hands up in exasperation.

“you’re out of your damned mind,” he muttered, turning toward the door before he stopped in his tracks, “and you, you’ll regret this,” he pointed towards you.

the slam of the door echoed through the house as topper left.

rafe turned to you, exhaling slowly, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “come on,” he said, nodding toward the stairs. “let’s get you back upstairs.”

your brows furrowed as you followed him, still reeling. “what the hell was that?”

“don’t worry about it,” rafe muttered, his voice softer now, but the tension in his posture hadn’t fully eased.

you stood there, looking at rafe, feeling the silence grow thick between you. the weight of the last few minutes, the tension in the air, made it hard to breathe.

“did you and topper... fight because of the ruthie thing?” you asked, the words tasting strange as they left your mouth.

rafe didn’t answer at first. he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated, and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, his jaw clenched.

you waited, but still, nothing.

“rafe?” you pressed again, stepping closer to him.

he looked up at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. then, in a low voice, he muttered, “yeah, i was arguing with him.”

your stomach tightened at the thought. “why?”

“why?” rafe scoffed, standing up abruptly. “because that guy has no fucking boundaries. because he's an asshole, and i don’t like the way he treats you.”

you opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by your phone buzzing in your pocket.

you pulled it out, your stomach sinking when you saw the screen light up with ruthie’s name.

before you could even process it, the screen flashed with her message:

ruthie:

“round two? come on, i’ll make sure it’s fair this time.”

you stared at the message, your hands trembling in pain as you locked your phone.

rafe caught the movement out of the corner of his eye, his gaze “she really thinks she can just go after you again?” his voice was like ice, but there was a dangerous edge to it that made your chest tighten.

“rafe, just calm down,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. you took a small step back, but it didn't stop him from pacing across the room, his jaw clenched, his frustration seeping through every muscle in his body.

“calm down?” he repeated, turning to face you, his voice rising. “she’s out there talking shit about you, threatening you—after what happened last night? you think i’m just gonna stand by and let her do that?”

“it’s not worth it,” you said, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “why does it even matter to you, rafe? you argued with topper at eight in the morning. you’re in the middle of your own mess. this... this isn’t your problem.”

he took a step toward you, and you could feel the air between you crackling. “it’s my problem because you’re my problem,” he said, his voice low, his eyes locking onto yours.

you froze at his words, your heart thudding in your chest. the world around you seemed to narrow down to just the two of you. his gaze held something you couldn’t quite place—something fierce, but vulnerable at the same time.

“i’m your problem?” you repeated, almost whispering, trying to wrap your mind around what he was saying.

rafe stepped closer, his breath just a little too close to yours. “yeah, you are.” he reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers grazing your cheek in a soft, deliberate touch.

you could barely breathe, feeling the warmth of his hand on your skin, the heat of his body radiating toward you. every inch of space between you seemed to be disappearing with each passing second.

“rafe,” you whispered, your voice shaky, uncertain.

“i’m not letting anyone hurt you,” he said, his words a promise—an almost reckless determination in his tone.

you were so close to him now that you could feel the intensity of his gaze. everything around you seemed to fall away as the world seemed to hold its breath.

his lips hovered inches from yours, and for a heartbeat, you were both still, both locked in that moment, waiting for something to shift.

and then—

ding.

the sound of your phone vibrating broke the spell.

rafe pulled back, frustration flashing in his eyes as he glanced down at the screen.

you could feel your stomach churn as he read ruthie’s message.

ruthie:

“you’re not getting away that easy. you know you want to.”

“i’ll see you soon.”

MASTERLIST

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[tpwk-formula1]

Could you please write a story where lando x reader have basically 'adopted' keegan (even tho he's like 3 yrs younger than them) and she hates whenever they make him do dangerous stuff

AN: SPECIAL EXTRA FLUFF POST!!!! (I know I said I wasn't gonna post a fluff this week but this came in and I got too excited so I quickly wrote it before work! NOT proof read!

OMG stop I absolutely love this idea!! I stopped writing a fic to get this one started! I did switch timelines just a big to make the story work so pretend the video on Quadrant where Keegan tried Karting for the first time happened after summer break!

TW: NONE

WC: 1.1K

Y/N POV

"Keegs, have you eaten anything today?" I ask walking up to him with the sandwich I had made for him before we had left for the yacht day.

"I had breakfast," he says softly knowing we had eaten over 6 hours ago and he had been outside all day in the sun.

"Keegan, you're an athlete stop being stupid," I laugh while tossing him the sandwich which he great fully took and started eating it.

"He's a grown man, love. Let him live," Lando tells me softly while approaching me from behind and taking me into his hold.

"You too Norris, sit down and eat," I say while passing him the second sandwich which has him groaning but instantly sitting next to Keegan and starts eating his sandwich.

"Whipped," I hear Max Fewtrell say from somewhere else on the yacht making me shake my head and threaten him with the last sandwich in hand.

"You and P are such moms," Max rolls his eyes while taking the food from me and sitting next to his best friend.

Over the last year or so the friendship between Lando and Keegan had grown from more than just a sponsored athlete to a truth friendship. When the younger boy started coming around it was almost instant that my motherly instincts kicked in with him.

I mean hell when he called us after winning gold at the Paris Olympics I hadn't stopped crying from podium. He still laughs about it and even pokes fun but he has also on multiple occasions expressed how thankful he to have Lando and I in his life.

Once the yacht day has come to an end we make our way back to the house we had rented for the week.

"We're going cliff jumping tomorrow, do you guys want to come?" Martin's friends asked the rest of us when we had made it back to the house.

"No," I instantly say a long with P while all the boys instantly say "yes" making me look directly at them.

"Have you all lost your damn mind? 1 of you is in contract for racing which mind you comes back in just a few weeks and the other just came off of Olympic gold, you need to be fucking careful," I start ranting while Martin starts laughing at the group dynamic not expecting anything less from us.

"It's fine, we'll be fine," Lando reassures me making me me shake my head.

"Get Zak's approval and then it's fine," I say with a smirk and a little shoulder shrug knowing his boss would lose his ever living mind if he found out his young driver is trying to do something so dangerous.

"Please! I promise we wont get hurt," Lando begs giving me his puppy dog eyes I have never been able to say no to, a long with Keegan behind him giving me the same look.

"Okay fine, but I swear to God if you get hurt," I say while pointing a finger before the two boys.

With that the broke out in bright smiles and Lando instantly took me into his arms and places a few kisses on my lips.

We're now coming to the end of our trip when Lando and I are relaxing in bed having some much needed downtime when a knock rings out through our room.

"Come in," I call out grabbing my bookmark and putting the book I was reading to the side.

When Keegan walks in he has a nervous expression written all over his face.

"What's wrong?" I ask sitting up a bit taller making Lando sit up a bit more noticing the serious expression written across the younger man's face.

"Can I ask for some advice?" Keegan says while walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

"Of course, you can sit on the bed," I say laughing a little when I noticed him awkwardly standing near the end of the bed.

"So I've been talking to this girl," Keegan starts while sitting on the bed.

"Aye! My man," Lando says excitedly while dapping Keegan up making his cheeks grow even redder.

"Well anyways, her name is Ella and we've been talking for awhile and I want to make it official but I'm nervous she might say no and I also need ideas on how to plan the perfect date to ask," Keegan admits making me smile. While it might have been Lando's first time hearing about about Ella, Keegan had already come to me about her and from what I had gathered he really liked her and she seemed really sweet.

After about an hour of planning the most perfect date for Keegan to take Ella on he thanked up both before leaving the room with a bright smile on his face.

"That's my son for real," Lando says laughing making me shake my head with a laugh falling from my lips.

"He's such an awesome kid," I reply back before cuddling closer into Lando's side.

"Did you pull the same move on Carlos when you where asking me out," I tease with a smirk on my face.

"Maybe," Lando admits with his cheeks reddening.

It's been a few weeks since summer break and we already have a week off from racing which means it's time to film for Quadrant and as we pull up to the track both Lando and Max have been suspiciously quiet about what we will be filming.

When we pull up to the track I see Keegan almost instantly making everything click for me.

"No! He is not about to hope in a kart without any training!" I say sternly making Max laugh and Lando turn and give me a reassuring smile.

"He's fine, he can drive a car, he can drive in a few circles on a kart," Lando says but it just makes me groan and throw my head back.

Lando did end up giving Keegan a small run down before filming and once he was in the first Kart I could already feel my stomach drop. He was going as fast as his car will allow him to go but you can see the difference between Lando's control of the Kart and his control but after the first lap he was able to adjust and already looked more comfortable.

As the karts got faster the more I go stressed. Keegan was clearly having an amazing time in the karts but my anxiety is going through the roof.

By the end of the video it is clear to all of us that Keegan loved every moment of it and even asked the next time he could drive one.

When the video was posted fan instantly clung to the fact that I was like a mom to Keegan. I mean an entire compilation was made where it was every moment I made a comment, face, or gasp throughout the short video making fans across F1 laugh at the endearing moments between friends.

------

Sorry it feels a bit rushed I just loved the idea and might even circle back around in the future and add to the story

[blushweddinggowns]

Eddie was wide awake for the fourth night in a row while Steve’s voice streamed through the walls. Every passing second had his pathetic crush on the man dissolving more and more. The last bastion between Steve and Eddie telling him to fuck off. 

It took one last laugh for him to finally snap. He couldn’t take it for another second. He threw the covers back, marching out of his room to start pounding at Steve’s door.

He didn’t have to wait long. He could hear Steve scramble to open the door, tripping over himself before finally getting it open.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked immediately, clearly concerned, “Are you okay?”

The reaction took Eddie aback. He didn’t- how did he not know what he was here for? 

Eddie barrelled right past it, his anger winning over his confusion, “Dude, you gotta shut the fuck up at night.”

Steve frowned at him, “What?”

“You gotta shut the fuck up at night,” Eddie repeated, crossing his arms over his chest. If he wanted to fight with him on this, Eddie was more than ready to play ball, “I can hear every goddamn word and I’m sick of it.”

Steve’s eyes widened, a blush crawling up his neck as he tried to stutter, “I-I-I didn’t-”

Whatever reaction Eddie had been expecting, it wasn’t this. But now that he started, he couldn’t stop. His brain refusing to catch up with the expression on Steve’s face, “And the showers at thee something? That’s gotta stop too. Can you not hear yourself? What’s your problem?”

“I-I didn’t think you could hear me!” Steve stuttered out, “I didn’t- oh god, you could hear everything?”

“Everything,” Eddie confirmed, his anger slowing down at Steve’s panic, “It’s not like I can recite your conversations but it’s enough to make sure I can’t fucking sleep.”

He could see Steve visibly relax at his words. Which was… suspicious. Maybe he should have been listening in at night instead of seething from exhaustion. 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t- I could never hear you! So I thought that you wouldn’t be able to hear me. I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Eddie sighed, “What? You’ve never had shitty walls before?”

“Not for this price,” Steve shrugged, cringing at the look Eddie gave him, “Not that I’m complaining! You didn’t design the building.”

He looked sincere but Eddie’s lack of sleep had his filter evaporating. He pinched the bridge of his nose, hating that he was about to go full RA. But this wasn’t going to happen for another night, “So who keeps you up all night anyway?”

“It’s my job!” Steve rushed out to say, “And my best friend. She’s studying in France and we’re obsessed with each other. It’s the only time our schedules line up to talk. I didn’t even realize how loud I was being.” 

Great. Now Eddie was starting to feel bad. But he wasn’t ready to admit it yet, “You really didn’t know how loud the shower is? Don’t you hear that shit in the morning?”

Steve shrugged, “I’m a heavy sleeper.”

“Is your job like, sweat-inducing?” Eddie tried, “Or can a shower wait until before work?”

“The former,” Steve said quietly, shifting foot to foot, “It’s… a lot of movement.”

Eddie squinted at him, confused at what that could mean. Until it hit him. The cash, the late hours, his stupidly pretty face. The question spilled out of Eddie’s mouth before he could stop it, “You’re a stripper?”

Steve cringed at the wording, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m a dancer.”

“At a strip club?”

“At a gay club,” Steve mumbled, clearly getting more uncomfortable by the second. 

Eddie didn’t notice. Too shocked at what he’d heard. He felt like his world had just been flipped on its head. Steve wasn’t supposed to- he wasn’t an option. Right?

“I didn’t think you were the gay for pay type,��� Eddie said dumbly, cringing at the glare that earned him. Holy fuck he needed some sleep. Or a muzzle.

Steve stood a little straighter, his embarrassment replaced with an anger Eddie wasn’t prepared for, “First of all, I don’t fuck for money. Secondly, I’m not straight. I didn’t think that was something you’d have a problem with.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Eddie was fucking this up something fierce, gaping at Steve like a fish. He hadn’t been ready for him to turn the tables like this. He was supposed to be the dick here, not the other way around. 

Steve stared at him, clearly unimpressed with his lack of response, “Is that it? Because I’d like this conversation to be over now. Good night.”

from the first chapter of this fic (my holiday exchange fic! To be completed by the 14th deadline but I wanted to start posting whilst in the editing phase!)

also tag list for the official fic link! @faery-god @the-fatal-lozenge @nyeddleblog @my-love-of-books

(btw I only tagged who specifically asked for it because I don't wanna be annoying. But if you implied it and I missed you my bad! I'm just paranoid! Thank you everyone who has had an interest <3)

[minswriting]

Can u do a Spencer nsfw x reader and they are having sex and he gets a phone call amd carry’s on fucking reader

please i love this idea. i wrote a hotch one so now its time to write a spencer one

nsfw | mdni | spencer reid x reader | unprotected sex, hotch mention, p in v

spencer had been thinking about you all day. when he was at work, all he could think about was fucking you into oblivion. he would glance at you, a subtle invitation to invite you back to his place after work which you would then subtly nod your head confirming your plans. he was desperate to have his cock inside of you. neither of you had a lot of time for one another. being on cases the past few weeks with no time to fulfill one another’s needs. it was safe to say that both of you were needy.

which is what was happening now.

you were laid on the mattress with your hair sprawled out and your legs over spencer’s shoulders while he thrusted into you at an unbelievably fast pace. both of you just needed release. “god, i missed this,” spencer groaned, pressing a kiss onto your ankle as he pulled out and thrusted back into you.

you were moaning, head turned to the side as you clutched the sheets below you. spencer’s cock always worked you so nicely. the three times he ate you out before fucking you certainly helped with the sensitivity. “you feel so good,” you moaned.

“i know, baby,” spencer said, looking down at you. you were truly a sight to behold. with your flushed skin, rosy cheeks, boobs bouncing with each thrust spencer gave, he knew he wouldn’t last long. you were just too perfect. “you feel amazing,” he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment to take in the feeling of your pussy around his cock.

and then suddenly spencer’s phone began ringing, causing you both to groan in annoyance.

spencer opened his eyes to glance at his phone that was on the nightstand, seeing hotch’s caller I.D. he paused his movements, looking back at you. “it’s hotch,” he cleared his throat.

your eyes widened as you realized your boss was calling spencer while spencer was literally inside of you. it was late so you knew he wouldn’t be calling unless absolutely necessary. “you should answer it,” you said.

and so spencer grabbed his phone and answered the call. “hello?” he answered, holding the phone to his ear. his cock was still inside of you, just unmoving. it was silly, really, when you think about it. spencer listened to the phone call, rolling his eyes when he realized it wasn’t about a new case. “i sent in the files earlier today,” he said, moving a hand to grip your knee.

you watched as spencer spoke on the phone, listening carefully to what aaron was saying on the other end. you could hear the faint deep voice but couldn’t make out what was being said. and as spencer realized the call wasn’t deeply important, he did what you least expected him to do.

he began moving his hips again.

you let out an audible gasp, moving your hand to your mouth to stop yourself from making any noises.

spencer took a deep, shaky breath, listening to aaron drone on as he moved inside of you slowly. “well the geographical profile was mapped out using a few mathematical equations formulated with the coordinates,” spencer tried his best to keep his voice steady as he continued thrusting his cock inside of you.

and when you started meeting his thrusts, spencer let his eyes flutter shut. he tried his best to pay attention to what aaron was saying but spencer could hardly care when you’re cunt is fluttering around his cock so prettily. spencer couldn’t help the small whimper that left his lips.

“is everything okay?” hotch asked over the phone.

spencer cleared his throat. “uh-yes,” he said shakily. “i’m just…busy at the moment. can we talk later?” and rather than waiting for a response, spencer simply ended the call, knowing tomorrow he’d likely get chewed out. but he couldn’t help it when you just felt so good.

spencer tossed his phone to the side after ending the call, now drilling into you with a purpose. both of you began moaning loudly, wanting desperately to cum.

and hotch? well, he certainly had an idea of what spencer was doing. it didn’t take a profiler to notice that aaron had called spencer while having sex.

[revelboo]

REVEL YOU CANT JUST DO THAT TO US 😭😭😭 POOR SOUNDWAVEEEEEE NOOOO Starscream has royally fucked up, and i need to know because that was too much of a cliffhanger 😭😭😭

Soundwave is on the warpath 🫣

Everything Is Alright Pt 110

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wings flaring slightly as he hears peds running in the hall, he reluctantly lets you go and slides off the berth to mass shift. Hating those upset eyes staring up at him like he betrayed you somehow when he reaches to snag your blanket and drape it over you. Can feel his spark twisting when you cringe into yourself, hiding in the blanket. It’ll be fine. You’re just angry with him right now. Denta gritting as he goes to his door to intercept his visitor, knowing who it is as he opens the door and blocking the doorway with his body to keep Soundwave from just storming in. “You had no right to bond my-” he begins, chin lifting as the communications officer actually snarls at him, cutting him off. Right before punching him in the face, seizing him by a wing and dragging him out into the hall.

• Heart in your throat, you move to the edge of the berth, blanket wrapped around yourself. Had that been Soundwave? Can’t see what’s going on, but you can definitely hear the swearing, thuds, and bangs. Not sure who you should be rooting for and torn between the urge to laugh and cry, because this is kind of your fault. If you’d just been satisfied with Star, hadn’t wanted Soundwave, too, they wouldn’t be beating the devil out of each other right now.

• Rocking to a stop as Starscream ignites his thrusters and slams into Soundwave to drive him further down the hall, Megatron vents tiredly. Of course it’s Starscream. It’s always Starscream. Watching the brawl as habsuite doors begin opening, other Decepticons leaning out to see what’s happening, he strides to the open door to Starscream’s habsuite. Finds you standing on the edge of the berth wrapped in a blanket and looking utterly miserable. And he’s not dealing with either of them. “Your mate is an idiot,” he growls, surprised when you don’t even try to defend him. Maybe you’re learning then. Reaching, he picks you up and heads for his own habsuite. “They need to work this out.”

• “Wait, you’re not going to stop them? They’re hurting each other!” Neck craning, you can’t see what’s going on, but it sounds like they’re killing each other. And Megatron ignores you, leaving the brawl behind to carry you into his own habsuite, frowning down at you when he sets you on his berth, reaching to tug your blanket more firmly around you. Staring as he drifts to his desk and retrieves a little box and sets it at your feet, blinking at the bottles of water and packages of food. When had he started keeping food for you?

• “Best to let them sort this out now instead of letting it fester,” Megatron mutters, trying to ignore those hurt eyes. “What exactly did Starscream do to make Soundwave that angry, pet?” And you’re leaking again. Primus, help him, he doesn’t know how to deal with this, how to comfort others. Had never actually needed to.

• It’s almost funny how uncomfortable the big, bad warlord is with one crying human. Huddling deeper into your blanket, you look at the box of food at your feet that he apparently keeps just for you. Not sure what to make of that. “Star did something to Soundwave’s bond. It’s just gone.” And that loss is a bitter ache inside you, hurting. Flinching when Megatron rumbles softly, you watch him run his servos over his helm with a muttered ‘of course he did.’

• “Biting?!” Soundwave snarls as Starscream sinks his denta into his hand and he straddles the Seeker to punch him in the face again. Had forgotten that Seekers bite and claw when cornered. Aware of other Decepticons gathering to watch and cheer on the fight and knows exactly how undignified rolling around in the hallway beating the slag out of each other is, but Starscream had no right severing his bond with you. And dignity can wait until he beats some senses into the SIC. Because you’re his, too and he’s not backing down.

Previous

[chelseeebe]

guilty as sin

18+. mdni. smut, mentions of alcohol and drugs. harrington!reader x eddie;)

eddie shouldn’t even be entertaining his best friends sister, but when one thing leads to another.. he can’t help himself.

um hello! i hope you all had a good christmas and new year!!! i’m terribly sorry for not posting but christmas is always a crazy time and writing becomes the least of my worries.. but i’m back (hopefully)!!! got some steddie x reader brewing that i genuinely really like

𓆩⚝𓆪

eddie fucking hates these parties. 

he hates the smug girls that only look at him when they want something. he hates the boys and their fake leather jackets. 

but he doesn’t hate coming out of said parties a couple hundred dollars richer. 

he skirted around the edges, taking their cash and leaving before things ever got too much. everyone had heard what happens at a billy hargrove party and eddie wasn’t keen on sticking around long enough to witness it. 

he lurks in the hall, a line of supercilious kids await his party favours, girls that would definitely fuck him for half a gram of his finest white powder. 

eddie wasn’t like that, he preferred a flush of president jackson’s in his pocket instead. 

he glances up at the empty hall and that’s when he spots a familiar skulking face. 

steve would kill you for ever stepping foot in this hellscape, eddie’s astounded you’d even try. 

billy didn’t like steve, or eddie really, for that matter. he just tolerated his presence for his assets. there’s no telling how he’d react to steve’s younger sister floating around his party. 

“what’re you doing here?” he steps over, deciding to take over the overprotective position for steve tonight. 

your eyes look guilty, and then narrow, as if to question his audacity to even ask. 

“i’m partying, what’re you doing here?”

“selling weed to schmucks like billy hargrove,” nodding towards the testosterone filled man, hovering around like he was something special, “you should go home.”

“you should fuck off,” scoffing at his efforts, as pitiful they were. “i’m not a kid anymore eddie,” taking an elongated sip from the red cup your grasped. 

“yeah i can see that,” glancing at your rather revealing outfit, letting his gaze slip to your cleavage just once. 

he wasn’t going to pretend you weren’t attractive, he’d made enough lewd, only half-joking comments about you to steve before. 

“you should get a life eddie,” snide and weirdly endearing, slipping past him to filter into the party, and away from his prying eyes.

-

he should go home. he’s made enough money for tonight, and this is all due to start getting weird any minute now. 

and yet, he just can’t, in good conscience leave you here. especially not after watching billy sneak his arm around your shoulder, his lips dangerously close to your soft cheek. 

eddie could’ve sworn he only looked away for a minute, dealing with some bonehead looking to short him, but it had all erupted in the millisecond he wasn’t watching you. 

“don’t fucking touch me!” a piercing shriek comes from behind him, alerting the entire party to the altercation. 

it’s you, billy trailing behind not long after. he’d say he’s never seen you so furious but that would be a lie, he had, many a times seen you like this. mostly when steve ate something you’d wanted or that time he’d told your dad about you sneaking out of your window. 

“oh c’mon,” billy squawks, tommy hagan peering out of the door like the loser he was, “i wasn’t even touching you, not yet anyway,” his smug grin taking over his face. 

“and you never will!” disgust rippling through your voice, arms crossed tight over your chest. 

“don’t be so frigid,” sneering his upper lip, “from what i’ve heard, it doesn’t seem to run in the family,” a wisecrack about steve’s community dick no doubt. 

“oh yeah, i’m sure you know all about my brother, freak.”

“yeah yeah, get the fuck out of here, dumb bitch,” storming back inside the house and past eddie who had carefully positioned himself just beside the doorway. 

eddie feels he has some moral duty to fulfil, traipsing outside after billy had pushed his way back past, “what’d i tell you?”

“oh great!” you exclaim, “not you too, didn’t i tell you to fuck off?”

he takes it on the chin, your words meant very little, after all he’d become accustomed to them having been caught in the crossfire of yours and steve’s arguments plenty of times. 

“c’mon,” practically ordering you around, “i’ll take you home,” walking backwards while beckoning for you to follow him to his van. 

you stare stern faced for a second, realising that eddie was your best bet to get back across town. 

“fine,” huffing as you oblige, glaring back at the roaring party one last time before slipping inside. 

it’s no doubt that someone will feed all of tonight’s happenings back to steve, especially where billy hargrove and his little sister were involved. 

“why’d you even go?” eddie starts when you’re on the road, deciding that you can’t jump out while he’s driving.  

“because i wanted to party, is that okay with you?” scooting as far away as possible, pressed against the door. 

“right.. sure,” deciding to no longer entertain the conversation. he wasn’t steve and he had no intention of ever becoming him either. 

the rest of the drive is mostly on silence, up until he reaches the end of your street; “do you wanna come in?”

he risks a glance over, your features settled and friendly once more. 

“what?”

steve was out, presumably all night, with christina, his new plaything. eddie had helped him pick out a shirt, only for his choice to go completely ignored. 

“do you want to come inside? it’s pretty simple,” staring back expectantly, like he was the one suddenly trying to form a friendship after you’d shunned him. 

“isn’t anyone home?”

“no, no one’s home, they’re never home,” pouting slightly. eddie knew all too well how often you and steve were left to fend for yourselves, they’d taken advantage of your empty house enough as teenagers. 

he hesitates for far too long, “-or don’t, i’m just being polite eddie,” getting out of his van in a huff. you were just like steve, a real child when things didn’t go your way. the signature harrington move, and it exhausted him no end. 

“jesus fucking christ,” he exclaims to the empty van, ambling up the long drive right beside you, “you can’t tell steve about any of this,” 

your eyes roll back, glaring into the cracked window, “as if.” 

ouch. 

he exhales, cruising into the empty parking space before hopping out. he has this rumbling gut feeling that something bad is about to happen and yet, he can’t help but follow you into the house. 

flicking the light on to illuminate the sad, lonely building, heading straight for upstairs. you had invited him to just leave him here, questioning his life choices. 

“help yourself, i know you know where everything is,” striding up the stairs to your bedroom, reminding him of many nights he and steve helped themselves to your dad’s whiskey, throwing the empty bottles over the fence in a bid to hide the evidence. 

what else do you know about? you and steve were close but surely not that close. but he knows his friend and he knows how much of a gossip he is. 

you probably knew everything, how he fumbled chrissy and have been sorely single ever since, how his band are taking time apart to figure things out, steve was just the type of guy to tell you it all. 

eddie does help himself, getting two glasses from the shelf and whatever bottle he reckons your dad won’t miss too much before walking over to the gigantic, and honestly, uncomfortable couch. 

this felt wrong, like he was doing something naughty and deceitful. maybe he was, come to think of it. steve wouldn’t exactly be thrilled to walk into whatever this is, he’s sure. 

you reemerge, changing from your revealing outfit into some equally as revealing pajamas. huh. 

he can’t figure you out. maybe you were just tricking him, a stupid joke steve had put you up to. 

“how much did you make?” coming to sit on the far side of the couch, grabbing the other glass he’d carefully poured. 

eddie buffers, debating whether telling you was the right or worst thing he could do. he supposes you’ve got enough money, so you wouldn’t want that. steve too. 

“couple hundred,” shrugging nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t some of the best he’s had in months, “trick is to always undersell them,” tapping his temple, “they’re too stupid to tell the difference.” 

“so, what you’re trying to say is that you’re a scam artist?” sipping haughtily on the bitter whiskey, crossing your leg in some sort of power play. 

“no- no, i mean, it’s billy-,” stopping only when you reach over and place your hand on his arm. 

“i’m joking eddie.” 

his eyes fall to your hand, he can’t recall if you’ve ever touched him before. why does it feel like that? like he wants your hand to shift further over and grab his thigh instead. 

“yeah, i know that,” opting to clear his throat instead of letting his thoughts tumble out of his mouth. 

“good,” smiling with the corner of your mouth, giving his arm a squeeze for good measure. 

“so.. what were you doing with billy anyway?” tipping his head back to allow the rest of the liquor to slip easily down his throat, “didn’t think you were into guys like that?” 

keep it fucking cool eddie. 

jesus christ. 

he’s trying, and subsequently failing, to keep his head straight. 

you’re unrelenting, keeping your eyes trained on his and the your fingers wrapped around the glass. 

cruel. 

inexplicably cruel. 

“billy’s not really my type,” sliding your finger around the rim of your glass, “i like them to be friends with my brother at least,” shrugging, completely smug behind your glass. 

eddie’s eyebrows knit together, he thinks he’s picking up what you’re putting down but he can’t be sure. 

you look up from your half-drunk whisky, eyes low and hooded, charged with a little something that definitely shouldn’t be there right now. 

“oh,” his lips curating the perfect ‘o’. 

this was a cruel prank, a master plan you’d thought up from the minute you’d seen him earlier. 

exhaling softly when he doesn’t immediately make a move, back to the petulant child act he despised so much.

the couch dips, eddie’s eyes watch your legs march past him, displeased that he hadn’t leapt at the chance to ruin his friendship.

“are you gonna come with me or are you just gonna sit there all night?” poised on the bottom step, knowing full well that you’d already won. 

eddie looks up, hoping for some guidance from whoever it was that resided up there, only to be met with the stark white ceiling. it’s grounding almost, only almost, because he swears he can make out the faintest yes in the cascading shadows. if there were ever a sign from above, this must be it. 

ah fuck. 

his feet make the decision for him, climbing up the staircase with far too much enthusiasm. this was a bad, horrendously stupid decision. 

he knows which room is yours, the door ajar, inviting him in, tempting him to waters he definitely shouldn’t even ponder treading in. 

eddie takes a moment to really consider whether this was the right choice, whether being balls deep in steve’s younger sister was truly worth the shit that would inevitably follow. 

yes, yes it was. 

he pushes the door open, you stand on the other side, no longer fully clothed, your silhouette projected onto the wall behind. there’s an attempt to move forward but his knees fail him, turning to jelly at the sight of you. 

“jesus christ,” exhaling deep into his palm, flashing images of steve’s fist pummelling into his face flash before his eyes, only for a brief second. not long enough to have any consequence on what he’s about to do. 

“stop staring and do something.”

he takes his time, stepping closer and closer until he’s about to touch you, a force or maybe his own self-doubt stopping him in his tracks. 

“am i gonna regret this?”

“probably,” nodding innocently. 

eddie nudges his forehead against yours, letting a sigh slip past his lips. this would go one of two ways; steve would never find out and you’d all live in blissful ignorance for the rest of your lives or, steve would find out and he’d bury eddie in the woods behind your house. 

fuck it. 

eddie’s prepared to take that risk, barrelling forward to connect your lips, almost knocking you off of your feet. 

your arms interlock around his neck almost immediately, closing the distance between your bodies as you press against his torso. stumbling over one another’s feet to get to the bed, a rushed, hungry ordeal. 

because now he’s done it, now he’s done the one thing he should’ve never have done, he’s raring to go. hard as fuck with a guilty conscience which feels anything but right. 

you’re sprawled back onto the mattress, pulling him down over your body before he can even think to pull away. 

you’re intoxicating, moving carefully against him, every next move more calculated than the last. like when your lips move from his to graze against his ear, sucking and nibbling your way down the length of his neck. it’s masterful, and slightly evil. 

god fucking damn it. 

he’s not supposed to like this. he’s not supposed to think about this for the rest of his pathetic little life but he knows he will be, certain he’ll be craving this forever. 

your fingers work at the button on his jeans, grazing purposefully over his erection, drawing obscenities from his gasping lips. 

his jeans are off and onto the floor alongside your panties in a hasty rush, the feel of your pillowy thighs slide over his ribcage, allowing him in closer, much closer. 

“steve’s definitely not coming back tonight, right?” just needing to make sure one last time. even if you said yes, he’s not sure he’s be able to pull himself away at this point. 

“can you stop talking about my brother while you’re about to fuck me?” 

immediately understood. pressing another fiery kiss to your wetted lips, to both shut you and himself up. 

you sigh into his mouth, intertwining your hands at the nape of his neck, thighs hugging his waist as your head lols back against the pillow. 

eddie slides his hand from your waist to your hip, he wants to say it feels unnatural and weird but it really doesn’t. it feels as if his calloused fingers were made to hold you against the mattress, like his lips slotted perfectly against yours. 

you shudder when he places his tip at your glistening entrance, keening your hips to ensure he really couldn’t go back. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” heaving all of his words out in one as slides inside, fingernails using your skin as leverage, keeping him on this earth. 

“ohh.. wow,” you breathe, pulling on the roots of his wild hair, your thighs squeezing him in closer. 

if this was so wrong, why did it feel so good?

he’s not exactly the playboy your brother is but he’s got some idea about how otherworldly this felt. 

the gentle slap of his balls against your soaked cunt feel criminal to hear in this room, a whirlwind of gasps and mutterings of expletives fill his ears. 

your hair frames your face like some sort of halo, though you were the furthest thing from an angel. your gaze keeping him in this realm, heavy though your eyes flutter with every thrust, every nudge of his cock against your cervix. 

“fuck- sl-slower eddie,” panting softly into his ear, delicate fingers tracing his scalp. 

his strokes grow weary, slowing down as you ask, though much too close to climax to really notice. 

leaving behind fingerprint shaped bruises on your hip from his ironclad grip, cock stretching your pretty cunt. eddie can’t decide between looking at your face or the space between you, enamoured by the slight buck of your hips, the ways your lips mime unintelligible babble. 

“l-like this?” he asks, flickering back to your face. your nod of approval was all he needed to keep going, placing a hasty, messy kiss to the side of your mouth, making out with your puffy bottom lip as you whine against him. 

“feel so good.. shit- ’m gonna cum sweet girl,” stumbling through his words, a mess of bleary eyes and nonsensical thoughts. 

your mewls grow louder, echoing around the empty house, no long meeting his gaze, too overwhelmed with your own climax to care. 

“whe- where?” losing his train of thought as you come undone around him, husky growls that deaden his pathetic pleas. 

you don’t respond with words, only shaking your head to indicate anywhere but inside. having sex with you was one thing, getting you pregnant would be an entirely different feat. 

eddie pulls out, thankfully, painting your heaving stomach with his release, only to collapse in a heap beside you. the weight of what he had just done had not yet hit him but knows it’s about to. 

your breathing slows, turning your head in his direction, without a single word spoken you sit up, leaving him to recover. 

“sh-should i go?” eddie proceeds with caution, this was already too far, he didn’t want to overstep and assume you’d like to spend the night with him too. 

“no eddie, you should sleep here,” you sigh, swinging your legs from the bed, “steve won’t be back before i’m awake,” padding over to the door, flashing him a smile before disappearing. 

he lays there, staring at the shadows on the ceiling, making shapes out of the illumination of your fairy lights. he can’t get over the stark contrast between your room and steve’s, and how damn clean your bed smelt. 

you come back, smelling vaguely of mint as you slip back under the covers, twisting your body to face him. 

“i can trust you, can’t i?” lashes cascading over your cheeks with every blink. 

eddie can only nod, held captive by your glossy gaze and slight pout, a puppet really. he wouldn’t tell steve, not ever. 

he falls asleep with one hand on your hip, tracing vague patterns onto the skin, dreaming of a future where this wouldn’t ultimately get him killed, one where he could have this, have you whenever he wanted.

-

eddie wakes to an empty bed, surrounded by decorative cushions and stuffies. he’d only ever seen the inside of your room a handful of times and now he’d slept here.

he’s terrified to get up, too afraid he’ll bump into steve in the hallway and have to awkwardly explain why he’s coming out of your room. or why he’s even here at all, come to think of it. 

it’s a slow, groaning descent out of bed and down to the kitchen where he thinks he can hear you tinkering around, getting redressed in the process, petrified that it was steve or even your dad instead. 

he peaks around the corner, holding his breath just in case, only to find you at the island, coffee and toast laid out in front. 

“oh.. steve’s still not back?” proceeding with great caution. you’d cleared the glasses from the table and replaced the whiskey, making sure there were no signs of any foul play. 

“nope,” looking from your book, same glint in your eye, “you can relax.. you stayed in the guest room, you were too fucked up to drive and i said you could crash here… remember?” 

eddie nods instinctively, he’d do anything you asked, he fears. 

as if on cue, the front door swings open and you share one last glance before steve inevitably steam rolls into the kitchen and demands to know why eddie’s van is parked in his drive. 

your brother looks.. disheveled, peaking around into the kitchen with the same shirt he had worn last night and his jacket over his shoulder. 

“now what the fuck are you doing here?” immediately pointing fingers, walking into the kitchen with the air of a man who had just gotten laid. 

and well, he wasn’t the only one with a bounce in his step this morning. 

eddie seizes up, staring at steve with widened eyes. he’d fallen at the first, measly hurdle. 

“-i said he could stay,” you interject, saving the day, “he showed up thinking you’d be back, way way too fucked up to drive,” rolling your eyes, the final nail in the coffin to really sell this shit. 

a professional.

touché. 

“oh,” steve nods, still floating on his high to pay too much attention, “what’ve i told you about smoking on your own supply?” clapping his hand on eddie’s shoulder, jolting him out of his frozen state. 

eddie chuckles along, he could keep up with this lie easily, it wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence for him. 

“where were you last night anyway?” expertly changing the subject, using a snide sip of coffee to hide your smirk. 

“if you must know,” clicking his tongue against the backs of his teeth, “i was with christina,” a twinkle in his eye and a tone that only came after getting his dick wet. 

eddie’d sure he’d be the same if he could even muster the courage to speak, too terrified of the truth to even dare usher a word. 

“you stay in my room?” nudging eddie’s elbow, “don’t tell me i gotta change my sheets too,” much too jokey to have any inclination of the truth. 

“i set him up in the guest room, no fucking way would i step foot in your room,” snarling your upper lip, putting on a real performance. 

“wow,” steve remarks, taking the other slice of toast from your plate to immediately shove into his mouth, “you did all that for eddie?” spraying his crumbs over the counter. 

“yeah, i take care of him steve, don’t worry,” and you do, or did. because it can never happen again, there was no way he’d allow himself to commit such sins again.