#NOT MY FAULT YOU KEEP PICKING HOT ONES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

parfaitblogs · 2 months ago

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as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament.

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day.

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened.

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder.

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed.

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot.

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it.

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?"

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole.

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall.

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room.

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted.

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you.

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him.

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap.

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not.

Your heart decides to go with the former.

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you.

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back.

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter.

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand.

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate.

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head.

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in.

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished.

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress.

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm.

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you.

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy.

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips.

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to.

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of.

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you.

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities.

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel.

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest.

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his.

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one.

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums.

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him.

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further."

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it.

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon.

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces.

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again.

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants.

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear.

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly.

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to.

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him.

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again.

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name.

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might.

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you.

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly.

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you.

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off.

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from.

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply.

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well?

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own.

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice.

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work.

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud.

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you.

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you.

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect.

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp.

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts.

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?"

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning.

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise.

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own.

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering.

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower.

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead.

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume.

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him.

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching.

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest.

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully.

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor.

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily.

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose.

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him.

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head.

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly.

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement.

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too.

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment.

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen.

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply.

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?"

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides.

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait.

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you.

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question.

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look.

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table.

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face.

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities.

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need.

Stay quiet, don't react, detach.

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now.

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours.

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly.

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why.

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him.

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door.

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression.

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him.

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end.

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you.

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get.

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing.

Maybe he would.

"So you are alive," he says.

"Last I checked, yes," you reply.

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in.

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows.

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you.

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster.

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper.

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble.

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding.

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower.

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch.

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that?

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly.

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee.

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago.

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not.

Not today, it seemed.

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence.

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful.

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart.

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later.

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah."

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast.

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional—yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home.

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be.

At three in the morning.

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far.

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night.

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently.

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up.

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were.

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features.

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom.

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around.

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists.

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child.

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it.

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?"

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet.

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go.

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more.

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate.

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight.

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline.

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more.

And yet; fuck you universe.

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways).

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so.

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him.

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe.

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body.

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs.

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you.

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer.

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it.

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly.

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold.

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience.

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day.

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath.

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything.

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye.

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far.

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more.

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x reader angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader fluff

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rafescvntyclubgf · 1 month ago

Text

𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂𝓼𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓫𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓼

𝙽𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚢 𝙻𝚒𝚜𝚝 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝔽𝕚𝕗𝕥𝕖𝕖𝕟: 𝔾𝕚𝕗𝕥 𝔼𝕩𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕖

𝙾𝚗𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚜!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

warnings: virgin!reader (<- very sweet and doesn't fetishize it), onlyfans!rafe, swearing, dirty talk, kissing, unprotected p in v, praise, cum tasting, fingering, first time, solo male on camera handjob, panty sniffing/tasting, mask-kink, reader gives rafe suggestive polaroids

All of my asks got deleted 💕😭 so I'm not sure who requested this, but thank you! This was not a kinkmas ask, but I made it one 😋 The premise is the reader has always had a crush on her neighbor rafe but was too shy to make a move. When his package gets dropped off at her door by mistake, she decides to make her move and learns a little more about the hot man next door.

Masterlist

Reader’s POV:

The sun pours through the window onto the floor as you hum with the song on the radio. You kick up some dust with your broom, sweeping the floor, but your mind drifts to him… again. Rafe Cameron. Your little crush had gone on for weeks, and you’ve no more than said ‘hi’ to the man.

He’s divine: handsome, broad-shouldered, and muscular, with messy bed-tousled hair and the perfect five o’clock shadow. His eyes… the most perfect shade of blue. He had no problem keeping eye contact where yours faltered. His swagger is undeniable, and his confidence oozes. This fact’s even more evident in your run-ins in the hallway.

He’s untouchable… Completely out of your league, or so you not so lovingly told yourself. But that didn’t stop you from stealing glances when you could: catching him in the morning as he went out for his jog, running into him on the elevator in his sleek suit on his way home from the office.

Knock. Knock.

You walk over to the door, open it, and see a little pile of packages left behind. You pick them up off the floor, cutting each one open individually, your heart skipping when you visit the final one. It’s a festive UPS box, red and green for the holidays, but the name strikes you the most.

Masked Cam… The address wasn’t yours, it was his. As you slide on your shoes, your pulse quickens, deciding what to do next. Knock on the door and leave it? Knock on the door and stay? This is my chance.

You grab the box and smooth your hair, taking a breath before lifting your fist and knocking on the door. His heavy feet move on the other side, making your heart beat a little faster as the steps get closer and closer.

“Hey,” he greets you casually, smiling that perfect smile that sends chills down your spine. “What’s up?” He asks playfully as his lips curl into a perfect smile.

“Uh… Umm,” you swallow the lump in your throat, fluttering your lashes at the beautiful man before you, realizing you had never been quite this close. His rich cologne fills your nose, clouding your mind further.

“Sweetheart?” He asks, trying to pull you back down to earth, but the name only sends you into a tailspin.

“I-I… This. Shit,” you giggle, and he laughs lightly with you, leaning into his doorframe, making it worse; the man looking like every book boyfriend fantasy you ever had.

“Was this left at your door?” He asks gently, taking the words out of your mouth and the trembling box out of your hands.

“Yes,” you break your silence. “It was left at my place.”

“Well, thank you…” He draws out the word, hoping for a name to fill in the blank.

“Y/n l/n,” you say softly.

He repeats your name, making butterflies swirl in your stomach. “I don’t think I ever caught your name… I’m Rafe, by the way; again, sorry if I introduced myself already,” he says warmly. He introduced himself a while back, so you can’t fault him for not remembering since you didn’t return the gesture yourself. “Well, this was really sweet of you, y/n…” He smiles as he looks down at the box for the first time. His eyebrows lift slightly, and he tucks the box to his side.

“Of course… Well, I won’t keep you.”

He perks up, giving you a little nod and a smile that leaves you feeling weak in the knees. “Have a good night, y/n.”

”You too,” you manage before retreating down the hall, turning the corner as your excitement bubbles in your chest.

Your fingers tremble as you press the key in your lock, pushing into your empty apartment again. You let out a little squeal of delight, proud that you got more than a simple ‘hi’ out, even though the beginning was rough. The rest was perfect…

You flop down on your bed, replaying the moment in your mind. Burying your face in your pillow with embarrassment at first, swooning the next. Masked Cam… He’d looked at the name on the front of the package, and something shifted briefly—only for a moment— but you caught it.

Grabbing your phone, you pull up your browser and type in the name, your curiosity getting the better of you. Shit. Your hand slams over your mouth.

OnlyFans; Masked Cam @maskedcamxxx

You click on the page, jaw-dropping at the banner alone. You recognize Rafe's body from his morning runs in the summer; the man’s always jogging shirtless with the same gold chain on his chest. You can’t see his face, mostly covered in a black ski mask; all that’s visible are his piercing blue eyes and pillowy pink lips but it’s him…

Your heart races as you click into his page, a sharp gasp leaving your lips. Heat pools in your cheeks as you see your handsome neighbor in nothing but a mask and sweats with a catalog of pictures and videos.

Without thinking, you subscribe to the channel under a fake name one minute and devour his content the next. You watch all the free videos first, just him in a pair of grey sweats and his signature black mask rubbing himself over his clothes. His arm and abs muscles flex with each stroke—the camera picking up every moan and groan that falls from his lips.

After you went through his library, you returned to his main page, debating what to do next. Your credit card burned a hole in your pocket; the blurry images only teased what you could see if you just entered those sixteen little numbers.

His socials… Does he have a TikTok page?

You follow the handle to TikTok, pulling up his page, eyes widening as you catch the red glowing ring around his pfp with LIVE underneath. Clicking into the Live, your stomach flips as you see him shirtless, with his mask covering his face, leaning into the camera to answer questions from the chat.

His head tilts slightly, lips curling into a smile. “Welcome, @firstnamelastname,” he greets you warmly, getting the notification that you have entered the conversation. The blood drains from your face. You quickly log out of TikTok, burying yourself in your pillows.

The next day, you grab your coffee and keys and head out fast for work, already running five minutes late. You had fallen asleep shortly after the TikTok mishap, apparently foregoing your alarm in the process. You stumble slightly, tugging on one shoe and then the next.

You open the door, and your heart leaps in your chest as you almost walk right into the vase of flowers on your welcome mat. Your heart swells as you lean down, pick it up, and quickly search for a note, a larger part of you assuming it was a mistake again.

It was nice meeting you yesterday @firstnamelastname

Adrenaline courses through your veins, the already hectic morning getting even crazier as your mind starts to race. There’s no way he couldn’t put two and two together. I dropped off the package with his OnlyFans name, I went on his OnlyFans account, I got his TikTok handle, I went into his Live, he remembered my name from our conversation, and recognized my TikTok handle. Shit. Shit. Shit.

You set down the flowers on the counter, feeling your anxiety and excitement peak. He knows that I exist and that I know the man under the mask… Oh my god.

Later that night, you pushed out into the hallway again, just like you had the other day, this time with a little wrapped gift in your hands. You set it down on his doormat, rechecking the message.

I thought you might like a change of color @firstnamelastname

Lifting your fist, you knock on the door, quickly retreating down the hall and disappearing behind your door as you draw a deep breath.

It was done… You saw him walk to his apartment on his way home from work, and unless he was taking a shower or something, he had the gift in his hands.

You tried not to think about it as you sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner. The entire last two days had been such a turn of events. And none of that would have happened if you hadn’t stepped out of your comfort zone and taken a risk.

Looking up from your plate, you see the bouquet in the middle. Your mind flooded with thoughts of Rafe and what it would be like the next time you saw him.

You clean up your dishes and walk toward your bedroom, anxious to see what he’s up to and if he’s going Live again. To your excitement, he is. Your cheeks burn from your smile as you see him lounged back on the couch, just like he was the night before, his black ski mask exchanged for something red.

The description of his Live is titled "New Mask—New Content." Check it out, Princess. You read and reread it… That’s an invitation, and you took it.

The next morning you’re late again, but this time, it’s intentional. You let yourself sleep in after your long night… It was intoxicating seeing him that way. He was wearing the mask you bought, taking videos he knew you would watch. It felt so intimate… Even if everyone else saw it, it felt like he was making it for you.

You step into the hallway, smiling as you see another gift—a white apparel box with a blood-red bow. You lean down, grab it off the floor, and walk back into your apartment, feeling giddy.

Plucking out the little card on top, you pop it open and see the little message inside.

For you, princess. @maskedcamxx

You think back to the caption of the TikTok Live where he used that pet name. There is no doubt that he knows you know about his OnlyFans… You undo the bow and pull back the lid, heart hammering in your chest as you see the gift. Your eyes widen as you pull out the red lingerie.

That night, you got all dressed up, trembling with your Polaroid camera as you snap a few photos of yourself. Your heart flutters as you see the images—explicit, but nothing close to what Rafe posted regularly.

You can’t wait until the following day, craving his attention again. After watching a few of his videos, you take the lingerie off and get into your satin pajamas.

You saunter to his place a little slower, half-hoping he would catch you at the door.

That moment of confidence fades fast as you knock, resting the gift on the ground before moving back to your apartment. It was your boldest gift yet: four pictures and your sweet perfume sprayed all over a pair of the worn panties he bought you.

Yours for now, xoxo @firstnamelastname. Maybe I can get them back some day?

Later that night, you lay on your bed, pulling up OnlyFans, holding your breath as you waited to see if he left little crumbs for you. You bite your lip as you see the title of the newest upload…

Unboxing gifts from my girl.

My girl? Me? You click into the video, watching him sit back in the chair.

Rafe undoes the bow, pulling back the lid. Even though his face was mostly hidden, you could see how he smiled, and his eyes lit up when he saw what was inside.

“Goddamn,” he hums as he pulls out the Polaroids, deliberate movements, hiding the images from the camera—for his eyes only. He looks at each one, studying them carefully, reacting to each. Rafe lifts out the panties, eyes widening and rolling back as he looks at the mess. He draws the lace to his nose, inhaling your scent before tossing his head back.

Adrenaline courses through your veins as he lifts the card last, looking at your little message before looking at the camera. “Yeah, baby… You’re gettin’ these back when I’m done with ‘em.”

Rafe stands up from the couch, making you release a desperate moan as he tugs his sweatpants off his body before crashing back down on the seat again.

His cock slaps against his hard stomach, standing straight, his tip red and glistening with precum. He wraps his ringed hand around his dick, spreading his pre-release down his shaft with a deep groan.

Rafe starts to move his hand along his length, spitting on his cock for lube before taking your picture between his fingers. Rafe strokes a little quicker, his blue eyes falling slightly as his biceps strain from the effort.

“Fuck, princess,” he moans as he sets the picture down, reaching for your panties, taking them to his nose as he fists his dick.

Your eyes flutter as he surprises you completely, taking the lingerie in his mouth, sucking and biting down as he looks at the next picture. He moans around the lace, fighting to keep his eyes open.

His gold chain glints as his breathing quickens. His cock throbs as he lets go, wrapping the lace around the base of his cock, hissing at the contact before starting up again.

Rafe mumbles words of praise as he throws his head to the ceiling, jerking his dick with your panties wrapped snugly around him. With a deep moan, his fat tip spurts ropes of white, staining his abs, hand, and throbbing dick. His sticky cum rolls down his length, catching the lace.

He draws a deep, satisfied breath, dragging the panties off his cock, cleaning himself off with the lingerie before rolling his head back again as the video cuts to black.

Knock. Knock.

Your head snaps toward the door, and your body trembles as you step off the bed fast. You scramble toward the entry, excited for your next gift.

“Hi,” you gasp as you open the door, seeing Rafe standing before you with his mask off. His broad shoulders fill the frame of the door as his chest heaves.

The moment Rafe’s lips meet yours, the tension breaks, the little back-and-forth game the two of you had been playing for a few days comes to climax.

He kisses you hungrily like he has been thinking about this for a while, taking your breath away. His lips are soft, and his body language is commanding as he holds your cheeks. He leads you back into your apartment before slamming your door behind him.

Your body moves instinctively, tongue rolling with his as your body pulls him closer. You gasp against his lips as he lifts you into his strong arms, your arms wrapping around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss even more.

You can feel your body trembling with excitement and inexperience, just praying that he doesn’t feel it himself. He groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body, going straight to your core.

”Let me take care of you,” he mumbles between hungry kisses.

”Rafe, I—I…” You sigh before he sucks off your bottom lip. “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

He backs you against the wall, pushing his body into yours. His hard bulge presses against your sex, spurring a sound from your lips you’ve never heard before, even when you touched yourself. “You don’t need to know anything, alright? I got you.” You cup his cheeks in your hands, rubbing your thumbs against the stubble as he rolls his body into you. “Let me show you,” he mumbles, his voice thick and sweet like honey.

“Okay,” you whisper, giving him a gentle smile before pushing your lips against his again. He brushes a strap of your cami off your shoulders, then the next, tugging it off your body, the delicate material falling around your feet, leaving you feeling fully exposed.

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he assure you as he takes off his shirt as well, making you feel a little more comfortable. Your fingers trace down his body, skimming over his cut abs, watching them flex as you pass over them nice and slow.

Rafe lays you down on your bed, rolling himself into you, crushing you under his weight. He pulls away from your lips, leaving you panting, pressing gentle kisses on your neck as his big hands roam your body.

His rough hand trails lower, making you smile against his lips in anticipation. He chuckles warmly, feeding off your excitement as his fingers slip under the hem of your silk pajama shorts.

"You’re gonna feel so good, princess," he murmurs, the warmth of his voice fanning across your neck, moving lower and lower. “You sure this is okay?” He whispers against your chest.

“Yes… Please,” you answer sweetly, reaching for a breath the next second as his big hand cups your pussy, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking and swirling his tongue.

Your breathing intensifies… You’ve always thought he was gorgeous, but seeing him like this is almost too much to bear. Rafe kisses lower, moving down your stomach as he pushes your panties to the side, circling his fingers on your clit before running them through your soaked slit, moan after moan pouring from your pretty lips.

“You like that, sweetheart?" He asks, but he already knows the answer as he watches you throw your head into the pillow, back arching off the mattress.

”Yes, fuck. Rafe, I love it,” you mewl as he swirls the pads of his fingers on your clit.

“Gonna get you ready for me. Okay?” He asks, his voice hoarse and hungry.

You nod quickly, biting your lip as you feel those same fingers shift lower; Rafe pushing two into your tight cunt, making you gasp and cry.

“Jesus Christ,” he groans as he crawls toward your lips, kissing you tenderly as he curls his digits inside you. He moves slowly, picking up the pace just like he did when he was stroking his cock. His thumb presses against your clit, making heat rise in your belly.

“Rafe,” you whimper, having memorized the feeling, not cumming around anyone’s fingers but your own, but you knew your body was about to give way.

“Cum for me, princess,” he whispers against your lips as your body tightens around him again, cumming around Rafe’s thick digits as your thighs shake.

Rafe looks down at you, lips parted. He breathes laboriously with you as he continues to work you with fingers until your body eases around him. You grab his wrist with a panting breath, pouting your lips with overstimulation, every fiber of your being wanting more.

Rafe lifts his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean, his eyes locked on yours until they fall to your lips, claiming you again. You taste yourself on his tongue, making you sigh blissfully as his taste melts with yours.

“I’m ready,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” He asks sweetly as he reaches down, tugging down his sweats. “You want my cock, princess.”

Your heart races as you hear his filthy words. Your mind screams ‘yes’ before your lips can catch up. “I need your cock, Rafe,” you answer breathily.

He wraps his hand around your wrist, guiding you to wrap your fingers around his thick length. You feel him warm and hard in your hands, his blood pumping with a steady beat. You move your hand higher and higher, wondering how you’ll fit it all inside, feeling your nerves rise slightly. The tips of your fingers move across his swollen head, feeling a tinge of sticky wetness. You bring it to your lips, sucking just like he did, making him release a lusty chuckle.

“Fuck, baby. You’re a natural, he praises, his lips moving closer with each word until he’s kissing you again.

You gasp into your kiss as his velvety tip toys with your slickness. Rafe teases your entrance, pushing in slightly making you both fuss. “You got this, princess. You ready… It’s gonna hurt for a second, but it’s gonna feel so fuckin’ good after that, I swear,” he hums.

Your hands wrap around his hips, nails digging into his ass, pulling him into you. Rafe pushes in slowly, inch by inch, his mouth falling open as your pussy clamps around him. Your sensitivity peaked, feeling every ridge and vein of his cock.

“You want me to keep going?” He asks.

You look down at the space that connects you as he pulls back slightly, his hard dick glistening with your arousal, noticing he’s only about halfway in. “Don’t stop,” you whisper.

Rafe smiles in reply, his muscles tightening as he holds himself up, sliding himself the rest of the way in, battling himself from throwing his hips like he’d like to. He fights against his primal urges, focusing only on you as the tears of discomfort glassing in your eyes turn into tears of pure pleasure.

“Not that bad, huh?” He asks as he leans down, kissing your tear-stained cheek before rubbing it away.

“No,” you whimper and giggle breathlessly. “Keep going,” you smile as you pull him back to your lips.

Rafe moves slowly at first, picking up the pace; using the sounds of your pleasure to guide his strokes.

“Wanna see you, baby. Is that okay?” He mumbles, and you nod in reply. Rafe pulls back, rising on his knees, holding your hips in his big hands.

He fucks into you harder, the new angle making that same sensation pool in your belly. “You look so good taking my dick, baby. Shit,” he praises as he reaches over, grabbing a pillow, lifting your hips only to stuff it underneath.

You cry out his name as he hits the perfect angle. You grab two fistfuls of sheets, breasts bouncing with each thrust of his toned hips.

“Feels so good,” you pant, throwing your eyes low again, watching the tip of his cock bulge ever so slightly in your tummy. Rafe also sees it, resting his big hand to feel it for himself. “Pussy’s so good… M’Not gonna last. Fuck—I need you to cum for me, just like you did before.”

Rafe pulls the pillow out from underneath you, lips crashing against yours, fingers finding your clit brushing quickly.

He moans against your lips as you feel his hip stutter, a warmth filling your tight cunt as he cums hard, the sensations pushing you over the edge. Rafe pumps his hips into you, muscles tight, not stopping until you are fully satisfied, collapsing on top of you when you sink into your pillow.

Rafe buries himself in your neck, breathing in your scent as he holds you tight.

“How was that, princess?” He mumbles as he kisses gently to your soft, sweet lips.”

”Perfect.”

905 notes · View notes

roanofarcc · 6 months ago

Text

FUNNY BUSINESS

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister!reader

summary. boone was a laid-back guy who only really had one, long-standing rule: his sister was off-limits to the wranglers. But tyler had a bad habit of rule-breaking.

warnings. a curse or two, fem!reader, mentions of drinking/being drunk (not reader), suggestive jokes, bed-sharing.

word count. 4k || masterlist

“You’re the worst, you know that?” Dani said, her arms crossed over her chest as she leaned against the side of the rig alongside Tyler and Boone. She and Tyler had their sights set on you as you concentrated on the options of the vending machine, oblivious to their attention.

Boone furrowed his brows, having just been focused on the camera in his hands. “Who?”

“You,” Dani answered. “You brought your hot sister all of the way out here to help us, and then tell us she’s off-limits. It’s cruel and unusual punishment, if ‘ya ask me.”

A laugh bubbled up from Tyler’s throat, earning him a glare from Boone. “It’s not my fault none of you assholes can keep it in your pants.”

It was Tyler’s turn to glare, playfully. “I’m a gentleman, Boone. Is it a crime to get to know her, you know, considering she’s a part of the team now?”

With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “Just no funny business.”

Tyler mock saluted. “Scouts honor.”

Tyler was a gentleman; his momma had raised him as such. And despite his teasing, he did want to respect Boone’s words. But at the same time, you were the newest member of the Wranglers, and Tyler did want to get to know you since you’d be hanging around for at least that season.

Boone had suggested to bring you on to help with the charity aspect of their storm-chasing. The t-shirt and other sales they made from their online audience went mostly to help victims of the storms they chased, and the rest went back into making the merchandise to sell. Boone said you’d be a good addition to help out with the business side of things, and he’d been right from what Tyler had seen so far. You were smart and quick, and were able to keep up with the rest of Wranglers as if you’d been a part of the team since the start. Tyler was impressed.

But what really impressed him, was how caring you were. It was the first time you’d come along with them to help out a neighborhood that was hit hard by a tornado. Houses were leveled and the devastation was thick in the air from the moment they arrived.

The Wrangler quickly got to work. Lily and Dexter started making sandwiches. Dani started walking around and passing out water bottles. Boone helped the injured to the ambulances that arrived. Tyler started making rounds, helping families find their missing pets or important objects in the rubble. But as he did so, he couldn’t help but watch you interact with the victims as well.

A couple of kids from the neighborhood sat together in a clear patch of grass while their parents tried to salvage some of their belongings and figure out what to do next. They all looked teary-eyed, and faces pulled in frowns as they sat quietly, clutching stuffed animals or picking at the wet grass to distract themselves. You approached them, sitting down in the little circle they formed.

Tyler couldn’t hear what you were saying to them, but your started to look more and more animated and the kids cracked small smiles. After a couple more moments, the kids’ moods looked to shift into something lighter despite the devastation around them. The somber air slowly became filled with giggles and kids’ voices overlapping excitedly.

Tyler found himself smiling softly at the sight before he ventured over. “How’s it going over here?” he asked, earning your attention.

“David here is telling us a very interesting story about a space alien,” you said, earning an enthusiastic nod from one of the younger boys in the circle. “You guys keep telling stories and I’m gonna go make sure no one else needs help, okay?”

The kids all shared a series of ‘okays’ and ‘thank yous’ before you moved to stand up. Tyler outstretched his hand toward you, and you took it with a smile, letting him help you to your feet. Once you stood directly in front of him, he felt himself clam up slightly. He and Dani had made jokes in hopes of irritating Boone in regards to how attractive you were, but seeing you that close, in the after-storm sunlight, Tyler’s breath hitched in his throat.

“Thanks,” you said, dropping your hand back at your side and gazing around at what else there was to be done in the neighborhood.

He cleared his throat. “That was smart, keepin’ their minds off of…” he vaguely gestured around them, feeling a knot in his gut of pity for the poor families affected.

You smiled sadly. “My parents used to do that with Boone and I. When we’d have to wait in the cellar, we’d all tell stories until the storm passed. The more outrageous the better,” you explained.

“It seemed to work,” Tyler said, glancing at the circle of kids all sharing outrageous stories with laughter and smiles instead of the frowns they held a couple minutes ago.

“Yeah, at least a little bit,” you said. There was a beat where Tyler didn’t know what else to say. Something over his shoulder caught your eye before you looked back to him and said, “I’m gonna go help Boone.” You sidestepped Tyler and left him in a slight daze.

He whispered a string of curses under his breath once he was out of earshot of the kids, and hurried back to the camper where the Wranglers were handing out food.

“I’ve got a problem,” he muttered to his friends.

Lily handed out another sandwich before eyeing him oddly. “A problem-problem or a you-problem?”

“A me-problem.”

“Ah,” she said. “Shoot, cowboy.”

“It’s Boone’s sister,” he whispered, ensuring that only Lily, Dexter, and Dani heard him. “She’s…”

“Attractive? Yeah, I thought we already established that?” Dani said, opening another case of water.

Tyler rubbed his forehead, an odd feeling twisting around inside his stomach. “It’s not just that,” he said. “She’s pretty, sure, but-”

Lily cut him off with slightly wide eyes. “Oh no,” she said.

Dexter furrowed his brows. “Oh no? Oh no, what?”

“Tyler only, and I mean only, calls women ‘pretty’ when he has a crush on them. Some ole’ woman at a bar that’s makin’ eyes at him, he’ll call her ‘attractive’ or ‘easy on the eyes’ never ‘pretty.’ Pretty he saves for the ones he’s got a big fat school-boy crush on. And normally that’s all fine and dandy, but this is Boone’s sister we’re talking about, Tyler.”

He hated how well Lily knew him. She read him like a book.

Dexter whistled lowly. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What’s unfortunate?” Boone said, approaching the group with you beside him. All of the Wranglers, aside from you two, looked at Tyler, which was anything but helpful.

Boone was one of Tyler’s best friends, and he knew it was the right thing to listen to him. Besides, Tyler hadn’t known you long so maybe his ‘school-boy crush,’ as Lily had put it, would fade once he got used to having you around.

Clearing his throat, Tyler shook his head. “Nothin’ important,” he said. “Let’s pass the rest of this food out before we head out for the night.”

You adored your brother’s friends more than you thought you would. You’d watch the Wranglers’ livestreams, but it was different being around them in person. Their passion for storm chasing was admirable and how they helped those affected by the very storms they were in awe of was amazing.

When Boone asked you to help out, you jumped at the opportunity. You certainly didn’t regret your decision, but you greatly underestimated the charm of Tyler Owens. You’d read the comments online, all ogling at the storm chaser, but it wasn’t just his looks that made him incredibly attractive. Tyler’s charm entered everything he did and said, but it was especially enticing when he talked about storms. When he got particularly excited, he spoke with his hands, lips pulled in a grin that was ridiculously mesmerizing. You could have listened to him talk about the weather forever, which was a problem.

It felt foolish on your part; not only was Tyler one of your brother’s best friends, but you thought he was miles out of your league. He had people practically drooling over him in the comments of his videos and making eyes the second he stepped into a building. He was a personality, wild and loud, but with a sweet side to make him even more likable. You told yourself the little crush would pass, but you worried that if Tyler kept being so damn nice to you, it’d be years before that happened.

“So, this is how storm chasers spend their off time?” you said, propping your elbows up on the bar before something sticky touched your skin. You recoiled in a grimace.

A chuckle sounded from Tyler as he handed you a napkin. “Here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s the perfect way to unwind. Though, word of caution, don’t drink too much. Storm chasing hung-over is a different kind of hell.”

You wiped someone’s spilled drink from your elbows and nodded. “Noted.” There was still a lot you had to learn about the ins and outs of storm chasing, but you were excited to learn. A silence passed between you two, the space filled with the bar chatter. The place was busy for it being in the middle of nowhere; the Wranglers said it was because most people were either dedicated locals or fellow storm chasers looking to relax a little.

Your brother and the rest of the team were at the old-timey jukebox, picking out songs that they then danced to, loud and rowdy as ever. But Tyler didn’t join them. Instead, he sat at the bar nursing a beer. Before you arrived, he was talking to an old man on the other side of him, cracking jokes like he’d known the stranger for years.

It was like each minute you were there with them, you uncovered something else about Tyler. And maybe it was a couple of sips of alcohol that were already affecting your system but felt like he should know that.

“You know, you’re a little different than I thought you’d be,” you admitted.

He studied for a moment with a gaze that made you nervous, but not in a bad way. “Oh yeah? How’d you think I was gonna be?”

You shrugged. “I watch the lives, mostly to make sure Boone is okay, but online you seemed…” You weren’t sure of what the right word to use was. You settled on, “More intense, I guess.”

A smirk crept across his lips. “And I am not intense enough for ‘ya?”

Your face felt hot, and the busy bar wasn’t helping. You adverted your eyes down to your drink and tried to laugh off your fluster. “I just mean, I thought you’d be like all of the time. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to keep up and you’d all think I wasn’t a good fit.”

The smirk fell from Tyler’s face and was replaced with a furrow of his brows. “Are you crazy?” he said. “We needed someone like you on our team. I know you just started, but I think you’re the best fit we could’ve picked.”

“Careful,” you teased. “Too many compliments like that might go to my head.” Even though you were pretty sure he was just trying to make you feel better, there was something in his tone that was convincing.

“What are y’all doin’?” Boone’s voice filled your ears and suddenly his arm was slung around both your and Tyler’s shoulders, forcing you two to lean in a little bit closer to one another, but with Boone sandwiched in the middle. Your brother’s breath smelled like beer and there was that goofy smile on his face he always got when he had one too many. “The party’s on the dance floor!”

You glanced over at the ‘dance floor’ which was a little space the Wranglers had carved out in front of the jukebox. A couple others joined them, but it wasn’t anything too wild.

Tyler shook his head and finished his beer. “Your ass is gonna be sorry tomorrow, Boone. I told you we’re leaving bright and early.”

Boone patted Tyler’s cheek. “I’ll be just fine.”

Boone was not ‘just fine’ the next morning. What he was a pain in Tyler’s ass, which resulted in him being demoted to the backseat and you prompted to the passenger seat. Maybe that wasn’t the best move for Tyler because while he was driving, he found himself slightly distracted by you.

You sat with your attention fixed out the window, watching the plains roll by with admiration. Every so often you fiddled with the radio per Lily’s request, but other than that you were quiet, observing.

“Can we take a pit stop?” Boone moaned. Tyler glanced at in the rearview mirror, face paled and eyes squeezed shut.

Tyler sighed. “I swear, if you throw up in my truck, Boone…” Tyler muttered, straining his eyes down the road for any sign of a gas station, but there didn’t look to be anything close.

“There’s not another stop for half an hour tops,” you said, searching on your phone.

“Great, cool, yeah,” Boone said. “Then you may wanna pull over or else everyone’s about to have a real bad time in here.”

Tyler quickly pulled off to the side of the road and Boone scrambled out, across the road to empty his stomach.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell him,” Tyler sighed.

“He won’t listen,” Lily said, unbuckling and sticking her face between you and Tyler. “I’ll make sure he’s all right. You two keep an eye on the weather.” She hopped out, leaving you and Tyler alone.

He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, wracking his brain for something to say to you. Normally he had no issue talking to people, but he found himself second-guessing his words when it came to you. But you beat him to the punch.

“He’s never been too good at holding his alcohol,” you said. “I can’t tell you how many times I had to pick him up because he got sick at some friend’s bonfire back in high school. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone get hangovers so badly.”

“All a part of his charm, I guess,” Tyler joked. “Does it run in the family?”

You shook your head. “No, neither charm nor hangovers. Boone’s one of a kind, that’s for sure.”

Tyler steadied himself a little, finding that thread of confidence in the back of his mind. He gazed at you, taking in the pretty features of your face. “I think you’re wrong on the charming bit.”

You looked surprised, eyes a little wider. “Me? Charming?” You scoffed. “No way.”

“Charming, smart, pretty…” Tyler trailed off, waiting for a reaction from you to let him know if he had swung and missed. You looked down, averting your eyes and clearing your throat. Out the windshield, he saw two figures moving in his peripheral vision and before you got the chance to say anything back, Boone and Lily reentered the car.

“That’s my bad, you guys,” Boone said.

You turned your head over your shoulder to look at your brother. “Feel better?”

“Oh, yeah. Ready to chase this son of a bitch!” And you all were off again. Tyler wished Boone and Lily had held out for one more minute. He wanted some kind of response from you, even if it was one telling him he had no chance. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch, and one he felt bad about having, but he couldn’t help it. You were something new, a little unknown, and unpredictable. If there was one thing Tyler was good at, it was chasing through his apprehension. But instead of a tornado, you had quickly become the storm occupying his mind.

You knocked for the fifth time on Boone’s door and tried calling him again, but one thing about your brother was that he was one of the heaviest sleepers of anyone you’ve ever met. That paired with his hangover from the night prior left him not answering you. You cursed under your breath, ready to set up camp in one of the rickety pool lounge chairs.

There was an unpleasant pair of cockroaches in your motel room and the thought of sleeping with them scurrying about was out of the question. Since none of the other Wranglers had left their rooms, you wondered if you were the only one to notice them or the only one who had them. Whatever the case was, you couldn’t sleep in your room and apparently, you couldn’t sleep in Boone’s either because he was fast asleep. You couldn’t remember where Dani and Lily's rooms were to ask to bunk them.

It seemed like you were out of luck until the door next to Boone’s opened and a groggy Tyler stepped out. “What’s goin’ on?” he yawned, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

You hugged your arms closer to your body. “Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Sorta,” he answered and you felt immediately guilty. “But it’s all right. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay out here. What’re you doin’ up anyway? It’s the middle of the night.”

“There are cockroaches in my room,” you sighed. “I was trying to see if I could crash with Boone, but he sleeps like the dead.”

Tyler chuckled. “That he does.” There was a beat and silent contemplation. You were about to tell him you’d crash in the camper or the truck, but he nodded his head back toward his room. “Come on,” he said.

You stood, confused for a moment. “You can crash with me. I don’t think my room has cockroaches but for both our peace of mind, I wouldn’t look around too hard.”

You weren't sure if you were elated or embarrassed. Overall, you were tired, exhausted even, and any thought of declining fled your mind the second Tyler turned to walk back inside, assuming you were following. So, you did.

Tyler patted the edge of the bed. “It’s all yours,” he said, gathering one of the pillows in his arms.

“What’re you doing?”

He tossed the pillow onto the floor. “Praying for no cockroaches for the next couple of hours.”

“No, wait,” you rushed out. “You can’t sleep on the floor.”

“It’s all good-” he started, but you cut him off.

“No way. I’m not kicking you out of your bed in your room.” You glanced at the bed, feeling your face grow hot at the thought of what you were about to suggest, but you couldn’t let him spend the night on the floor. “We can just…share.”

Tyler stared at you for a moment, like he didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze between the pillow on the floor and the bed before landing back on you. “Are you sure? Because I really don’t mind.”

“I’m sure.”

Hesitantly, you sat on the edge of the bed and pulled off your shoes, trying to ignore the shift of weight on the mattress as sat down opposite of you. It wasn’t as big of a deal as your mind was trying to tell you it was. It was just two co-workers, borderline friends, sharing a bed so no one had to face any cockroaches. That was all it was. But even in the darkness of the motel room, you couldn’t help the quick beat of your heart as you crawled under the covers, with your back facing Tyler. He did the same and before you could convince yourself what you were doing was not a big deal at all, Tyler’s soft snores filled the room. It was oddly reassuring. You fell asleep not long after him, a clear space between you but something in the air that wanted to draw you two closer.

For a moment, when he woke up, Tyler thought the exchange he had with you in the middle of the night had been a dream. But when he rolled over to find your sleeping face inches away from his, he realized it was very much real. Your eyes were softly closed and your lips slightly parted as you slept. He found himself admiring you for just a moment, until there was a loud knock on his door, forcing him to get up.

He threw it open without thinking much about it. Boone greeted him with a slightly worried expression pulled on his face. “Hey, man what’s-”

“Have you seen my sister? She called me last night a bunch of times, but I didn’t hear it. And when I went to her room no one answered,” Boone said, quickly cutting Tyler off.

“Boone?” Your voice sounded from behind Tyler and as soon as he saw the several emotions flicker across Boone’s face, he realized he may have made a mistake.

Boone’s gaze flickered between you sleepily sitting up in Tyler’s bed and Tyler. “Dude!” he exclaimed. “What the hell is going on here?”

It must have registered with you too how the situation looked. You hurried out of bed and stood at Tyler’s side. “Wait, hold on-”

“What the hell are you doing?” he said to you. “I said no funny business,” he then said to Tyler.

“It’s not like that,” Tyler rushed out. “I know that it looks like that, but it’s not. I swear.”

“He’s right,” you added. “It’s not. I needed a place to crash because there were bugs in my room, and you wouldn’t answer your phone. Tyler offered to let me stay in his. That’s all.”

Boone didn’t look too convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest, blowing air from his cheeks. “You two have been making googly eyes at each other since you arrived,” Boone said. Both you and Tyler tried to defend yourself, even if Tyler hadn’t been super subtle about his ‘googly’ eyes. But Boone cut you both off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I know both of you. You,” he pointed to Tyler. “Are the least subtle person I know. And you,” he pointed at you. “Have been talking about him since I started chasing with him.”

Your eyes widened almost comically as you sputtered over your response. “I-I have not!”

“Look,” Boone started, taking a deep breath. “You’re both adults. But if you’re gonna get into any funny business, for the love of the Lord himself, do not do it around me. Got it?”

“Okay,” you answered, catching Tyler off guard. He expected you to brush your brother off and force Tyler to face the reality that you had no interest in him, but you didn’t.

Boone looked to him for his answer. “Y-Yeah.”

“Good,” Boone said. “We’re leavin’ in fifteen.” He turned on his heel and left the two of you in the doorway. Once he was out of earshot, a laugh sounded from your lips, a sweet sound he wasn’t expecting.

“God, that was embarrassing,” you said, still laughing at the situation.

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh too, closing the door and leaving the two of you alone in his motel room once more. “Is that true? You talk about me?”

You hung your head, sheepishly and shrugged. “Maybe.” The idea of you talking about him made him feel on top of the world. “Is what he said about you true? Are you really not that subtle?”

“I did invite you to sleep with me,” he joked, taking a step closer to you. You didn’t move away but instead closed the distance between you two even more. He searched your eyes for a sign that you were thinking the same thing he was, and when your gaze flickered to his lips for only a second, he got his confirmation.

Tyler hooked a finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards just slightly as he leaned in. He kissed you slowly, sweetly as you hung your arms around his shoulders to bring him in even closer, the two of you pressed chest to chest. He felt you smile against his lips, a blissful feeling he didn’t to end.

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #twister fanfiction #tyler owens fanfiction #glen powell #glen powell fanfic #boone twisters #lily twisters #dexter twisters #dani twisters

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servicpop · 11 months ago

Text

✶ ﹑ㅤi only have eyes for you ﹏

NOW STARRING : CEO (Vallen Carter) x jealous sub male reader

「ㅤNSFWㅤ」ㅤVallen's assistant is hot and reader can't help but feel jealous!

✙ warnings — reader is kinda insecure, office handjob (reading recieving), getting caught

notes ,, finally wrote about vallen.. not proofread!

"Your assistant, would you ever date her?"

You were currently sat on the plush couch Vallen had in his office behind his desk. Sometimes, you would invade his workplace and lounge in his office when you were bored and wanted to simply be in his presence. At your time here you've noticed a few things, one being Vallen's super hot assistant. To say she was just pretty was an understatement. She was refined, spoke smoothly and elegantly, always dressed proper, and was smart on top of all of that. Anyone would fall for someone like her, including Vallen.

Typing away on his keyboard, Vallen had his back facing you. "Why would I date her when I have you?" He replied, his voice as husky as it always was and carried little emotion in it. You huffed, turning around to face him— his back, as you took a moment to think about your next words, "Because she's really hot and— she gets to see you more often, and she's so elegant," you mumble, your words were quiet from the slight embarrassment you felt in admitting this.

You see Vallen pause in his typing, his body stilling before he let out an exhale that visibly made his shoulders fall to a more relaxed position, "Is that really what you're worried about?" His statement was firm, almost scolding. You couldn't help but keep quiet. The room was silent — besides Vallen's keyboard tapping or mouse clicking — before he decided to speak up, "Come here," he said, his tone on the boundary of stern and soft; it was always hard to tell which one he was leaning more towards. Of course you oblige, getting up from the couch and walking over to where his chair was.

"If you're that worried about my assistant, there can be a few arrangements made," He hummed, loosening his tie slightly before looking up at you. You stand there like a child getting scolded — that was usually the case when you were with Vallen, he was just so overwhelmingly mature it surprised you that he was only a few years older than you — as you fumble with your fingers, your gaze casted down to your feet. Yeah you were jealous but she undoubtedly did her job well and you didn't want to burden Vallen from a stupid little feeling.

He seemed to pick up on your discomfort, letting out a heavy huff from his chest as he leaned back in his chair, earning a small squeak in return. "Seems like you are simply too sweet to do that," He chuckled softly, patting his thigh firmly before his eyes met yours. You take the iniative to sit on his lap, settling yourself ontop of him as you wrap your arms around his waist in a small hug with your face squished in the crook of Vallen's neck. You seemed to melt in his embrace as he hooked one arm around your back and slid the chair forward so he could continue working.

The familiar sound of keyboard tapping resumed, and you rested ontop of Vallen with your eyes closed, relaxing in his company. After awhile, Vallen's hand made its way to your thigh; his large hand squeezing it firmly before sliding further up your leg. This draws your attention back down to the present as you look down, "What are you doing?" You ask. Vallen doesn't respond with words, he responds with a hand cupping your pants instead, rubbing you through your pants with his knuckles. A small groan slips out between your lips as you find yourself grinding against his palm. Wasn't your fault Vallen had such warm hands.

"I just want to prove how much I love you, and that I would never leave you for anyone," Vallen replied, his voice becoming raspy as his lips meet your earlobe. His slender fingers tug at the waistband of your pants and your boxers, slipping his hand underneath the fabric. You flinch upon feeling the warmth of his lips press against your ear and your body jerks when his hand unexpectedly grabs your now hardening cock. His hands are like magic, the way that they make you feel like you're about to implode with butterflies is honestly impressive.

Vallen pushes the fabric of your clothes down more so he could have better access to your body, letting a deep chuckle out as he stared at the way your cock practically weeps for attention in his hands. Like the good man he is, he gives you that attention. His thumb glides over your blushed tip, teasing your slit as his other hand grips your waist, keeping you stable on his lap. "You're already twitching," he comments with a small smirk on his face. Vallen deems that your poor, red tip has been tortured enough and decides to move his hand to the base of your cock, squeezing lightly before working his way back up to your tip before sliding back down to the base. He repeats this action almost painfully slow, watching your face intently to catch any facial expressions you'd make.

It was embarassing how needy you felt in this moment. Your back arched with every movement of Vallen's hand and your hips stuttered as you tried to grind into the pleasure. Your small whimpers and gasps filled the office, accompanied by the lewd, wet noises of Vallen jerking you off, "I'd deal with you in a more— proper way if I wasn't in the office right now." You could tell he was enjoying this as much as you did; it was evident by the bulge in his pants poking you. However, you knew Vallen was far too disciplined to want to partake in such activities in his workplace, but that was his personal preference, he loved seeing you crumble during work.

You couldn't help but gasp out his name, your fingers curled around his wrists, trying to stop the movement but it just felt so good. Your body was leaned back and your head tilted down, watching Vallen's slender, veins hands rub your body like he was sculpting a delicate clay figure. A hand gripped your trembling legs, holding you still as Vallen focused on pleasuring you. He knew you were close by how vocal you were getting now.

The soft click of the door opening fell deaf to your ears, your brain fogged with lust and Vallen's hands. His assistant had entered. You picked up that something was wrong from the slight twitching of Vallen's eyes as he rose his head to look at whoever interrupted his session with you. Nonetheless he didn't stop, he kept moving his wrist up and down, curving his palm more at the head before returning down to grip the base of your cock, using your precum as lube.

"Vallen, who—" you tried to speak but Vallen's fingers shoved past your lips and into your mouth unexpectedly. The foreign feeling of his fingers pressing against your tongue for some reason sent shiver down your spine and to your dick. "What better way of proving I wouldn't leave you than to start with getting rid of the root cause?" Vallen cooed in your ear, glaring at his assistant before speeding up his hand. You tried to protest but your words were blocked by Vallen's long fingers shoved deeply into your throat, bits of saliva dripped down your chin and he took the courtesy to wipe it off with his thumb. What a gentleman— obviously despite his indecency by jerking you off infront of his assistant.

It was getting to that familiar point where your hips began to chase your release and your legs felt numb. You were oblivious to the fact that Vallen's assistant was forced to watch him push you over the edge in pleasure. Vallen groaned quietly as his fingers were enveloped in warmth from your mouth, oh how he wished he could fuck you over the desk right now but he couldn't bring himself to embarass you like that. Your eyes rolled back as you felt yourself finally cum; white sticky liquid painted Vallen's hands.

Heavy breathing — from you — filled the awkward tension in the room before you finally turned around to see what was happening behind your back.

"You were watching the whole time?!"

"Unfortunately."

notes ,, not too happy with this one but I wanted to get something out to you guys. Also, I'm kinda liking the assistant, maybe she'll be like a side character in the future (not as a love interest, im planning for her to be a girl kisser)

#servicpop — fics/drabbles #male reader #oc x male reader #sub male reader #male x reader #mlm #bottom male reader #x bottom male reader #x male reader #x male oc

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lilacgaby · 4 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋmy first, my last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ

pairing: exmafia!bakugo x reader

summary: katsuki left that life behind for you. but when the life you two built from scratch together was threatened, what else could he do but go back?

tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, clingy katsuki

status: complete.

wc:~2.5k

katsuki had been around blood for most of his life.

whether it was his own, or a bastard who he had to handle for his own, he'd grew comfortable to it. almost intolerant to it.

but seeing you, freaking out with a bullet in your shoulder, your blood spilled over the floors he'd taken you to pick out?

it was something he never prepared for.

glass was shattered, he ran to your side immediately. the hot flash of pain in your arm unbearable, even more so as he pressed down on it, his shirt now ripped as he had to keep the blood from pouring.

your wails echoed throughout the shop, the one you decorated and planned for months together.

he needed to call someone, anyone. you were bleeding and he needed the kit-- but it was too far.

he was failing you. you were crying and he was failing you.

he was shaking, "babe? fuck. stay awake." everything around him was mocking him. his phone being too far, everything was just out of his grasp. out of his control.

he couldn't get up and leave you, if he let up the pressure you could die in the minute it'd take for him to set up.

he always failed you in the end. this was all his fault.

until, kaminari and kirishima walked in, about to yell out and bug katsuki for some food like usual. "yo bro! what's--"

the sight in front of them was one they never expected to see. katsuki almost crushing your arm with pressure, your blood all over the place. the front of house ruined.

it was enough for them to jump into action. katsuki holding you still as kirishima worked to get the bullet out of your arm. kaminari throwing the medkit over from where katsuki had it stored in a shelf. it had barely missed an artery, you were a milimeter away from death.

honestly, they hadn't liked you for a while. before meeting you they only saw you as the woman who was taking one of their best friends away from them. from their own.

but they learned that you only wanted the best for him, so you'd all become close. they learned how katsuki made this choice because he wanted better life for the two of you.

how he was growing sick of the repeated bloodshed that never amounted to anything. how his heart ached at the sight of you crying over his wounds, his black eyes and knife cuts embedded in his skin.

how he vowed to himself that before he'd ever propose to you, that he'd tie up all loose ends with his group, before he knew he could fully dedicate himself to you.

and he did.

nobody couldve ever imagined that they'd be here, kaminari working to keep you calm, helping regulate your breaths. you were freaking out, and that wasn't good for the extreme amount of blood you were losing.

katsuki would be forever grateful for them. he didn't know what he'd do if they weren't here, if you had died in his arms.

your screams were haunting, but at least you were alive. they finally died down into groans of pain when the bullet was out and the fabric was tied tightly around your shoulder.

your shirt was bloodied, his hands were too. he picked you up and mindlessly followed the two into a car that they must of called when he wasn't listening.

back to his old life he went. his eyes were sharp and angry, his hand gripping yours tightly, his finger over your pulse.

he had frozen up. and that could've costed you your life.

your eyes were half-lidded, but open.

only the noise of the road was heard throughout the car. he was the only one in the back, holding you in his arms as he faced straight ahead. he didn't think he could handle looking at you right now.

"'suki?" you said, so quietly the thumping of the road almost completely blocked it out.

but he heard you, he always did. "don't waste your energy. we're almost there."

you nodded, squeezing tighter. your eyes stuck on his bloodied shirt.

you were immediately rushed to the medical wing, the old woman dubbed 'recovery girl' taking you into her care. "she'll be fine, young man. she was lucky. they missed." she scurried off behind the operation team, who had immediately taken her into surgery.

those words carried only a bit of comfort for him. he was guided back to the meeting room, the one he'd been in several times before. the one he took brutal beat downs just to get out of.

but he was back, and it was for you. the same reason why he left.

he stared back at his old blood. deku had taken over for all might a couple years back, so he stood at the head of the table waiting for the rest of them settled in.

he wore a soft face of sympathy. "go change." deku finally said, handing him a pair of spare clothes. "we'll wait for you. you look like.. crap."

"to say the least." katsuki muttered, before accepting the clothes and going to where he knew the old bathroom was.

he washed his hands of your blood, but he knew it'd never really leave. he had stained your life, put you in danger for something as fragile as love. you could've died today, for the only reason of you being connected to him.

he changed, emptying the tattered shirt and slacks into the garbage. he didn't want anything to do with them anymore.

after splashing his face with some water, he headed back to the room.

every old face was there waiting for him, some with understanding small smiles.

he sat next to kirishima, arms crossed as he looked to the head.

"kacchan." deku started. "you, you aren't seriously thinking of coming back, are you?"

all eyes were on him, his body tense. "of course i am. i'm going to find the dumbfuck who did this and bury them."

"but you're not one of us anymore." todoroki cut in. "you left, if you come back it's like you did all that for nothing."

"you can never truly leave though, if you think about it." iida replied before katsuki had a chance. "this is just proof of it. even though he worked so hard to get rid of the connections to us, she still ended up targeted."

"and by an ally no less."

"a what?" katsuki said, his hand slamming on the table. "repeat that shit to me scarface?"

"it's not confirmed yet--"

"don't lie midoriya, it's obvious from the bullet. even the color is mocking us." todoroki said, sliding a bag across the table, over to katsuki.

a bright purple bullet was in it. it was bigger than he remembered, a 12.7 mmx99. it took up almost the entirety of his hand. whoever shot this really had wanted to kill you.

but it couldn't be...

"..shinsou?"

"that's who it points to."

"but. it doesn't make sense. your wife was close friends with him, and we haven't had bad relations with '2 Block' for decades!" midoriya reasoned.

"that doesn't change the fact there was a bullet in her arm." katsuki grumbled, moving it around in his hand. he slammed it back down onto the table.

"wow bakugo, if you couldn't pick up on that, i don't think you should be working this operation." kaminari said, a hand behind his head.

"shinsou wouldn't have missed. she'd be dead the second he aimed for her. you should know that."

silence enveloped the room. kaminari was right, if he didn't pick up on that, he was rusty.

his eye twitched. "i fuckin' knew that dumbass."

"you have personal stake in this, we get it. but you'll end up dead if you keep thinking with your shit attitude." kaminari responded.

"he has a point kacchan. why don't you let us handle it, and you can--"

"no."

he silenced them all with that single word. a face of sincerity and vulnerability he barely wore present in that moment. "i have to do this. i can't sleep at night if i don't. you guys of all people should understand."

a collective silence came over the room. they didn't say anything, but they knew if this had happened to them they'd want back in too.

they knew midoriya had the final say though, so they wished for his opinion.

"fine. but youre not doing this alone. we'll all get in on this. you were one of our best before, im sure all might would agree."

everyone nodded in agreement, saying some variation of 'if you say so'.

kirishima patted katsuki on the back. "hey man, our duos back again!"

"only for this mission though."

"aw man."

"we start tomorrow, so fix yourselves up. i have a feeling we'll be traveling around some tomorrow." midoriya ordered. "dismissed."

everyone poured out, katsuki walking directly to the medicine ward. he passed by the hallways, the pictures representing the allyship between them and the several surrounding gangs mocking as he walked by.

it all felt so familiar, it had only been a year. not much had changed, except for the atmosphere that he brought along with him.

he finally made it to the ward, looking past all the rooms. 'lets see, torture room.. cell.. no she'd be here.' he thought before walking into a hallway.

there he found only one room with a light on. he was right, he looked in to see you, fast asleep with bandages wrapped around your arm.

'at least you were safe', he sighed. jumping slightly when 'recovery girl' started speaking to him. "you did well, a moment later and she'd be dead. don't beat yourself up young man."

a moment passed between them, her words resonating in his mind. he'd done all that he could doz

"you can go wait inside, just don't wake her. there should be a spare bed you can pull out."

and with that, she left.

he walked inside, pulled out the bed and held your hand as he slept. the guilt never dissipated, it was all his fault. and so he'd have to fix it.

he woke up to the feeling of you moving. he'd been on edge the whole night, so the feeling of your hand jerking out of his woke him up immediately.

"katsuki." you said, sounding so tired and confused it broke his heart a bit.

" 'm here." he hugged you quickly, being mindful of the wound in your arm. a desperate, tearful kiss shared between you.

you took his face into your hands, making him stare into your eyes.

"i was so scared, you don't even know." you said nervously. "i thought i was gonna die."

katsuki held you tighter, still so disappointed with himself for even letting you get to that point. he felt like he should've taken the shot. that he should be the one injured right now, but instead he leaned in closer to you. "i was too, but you're here now. safe. with me."

"mhm."

you held him for a bit longer, looking at the room surrounding you.

while he was thinking of the possibilities that could've happened, his one wrong step from you could've left him all alone, you examined the room.

it wasn't a regular hospital, probably not a hospital at all. you knew that from the guns laying on the counters. the stitches all around ready for work, the empty body bags that were bloodied. mocking as they hung from the ceiling.

the windows, all reinforced heavily. the door that had a bolt lock on it.

you didn't get to feel relieved for long. "katsuki. be honest with me."

he tensed up, he knew you'd find out eventually. but he wanted to finish this mess before you ever knew about it. "always am."

"are you.. back in this?" you asked, looking into his eyes with an anxious expression. your hands clinging to his sides.

he sighed heavily. "y'know i have to. i'll never relax if i know that fucker is still out there. he could come back and.. and hurt you again."

"and i can't change your mind about this?"

"...no. it's for.. for us. i wouldn't have left if i didn't care for you, you know that."

"i do."

"then.. just-- wait for me okay? i won't leave 'til later today."

you nodded, laying your head in his chest. "if you get hurt too i think ill die."

"i won't get hurt."

"you promise?"

"i swear."

you leaned in and pecked another kiss on his lips. though you were interrupted by kirishima walking in.

"oops, i really should've knocke-"

"yeah you should've dumbass."

"hi kiri!" you waved, shoving katsuki off of you. "hey [name]!"

katsuki had one arm around you, squinting seemingly annoyed at his partner annoying his wife.

the topic would randomly change from shows you were watching, to fun things that have happened recently, but it took a deep turn into what had just happened to you.

"so, [name]. you heard bakugo's hanging with us for a while, right?"

"yeah, i did." you said, holding him just a bit closer subconsciously.

"so, did he tell you who we think did it?"

"shut the fuck up kir--"

"you already know?" your attention was on him fully. the look in your eyes revealing just how much you wanted answers. "well, it's just a guess for no--"

"shut up kirishima."

"but we think it's shinsou."

your face twisted in confusion. "shinsou?...

no, you're wrong."

"babe, please stay out of this."

"shinsou wouldn't do this-"

"they found his bullet in your arm. nobody else who isn't retired or dead uses that shit."

you physically recoiled at that. "no way." you looked to kirishima, who only confirmed it.

"this has to be a set up or something? he wouldn't do that!"

kirishima made a face, which made katsuki squint his eyes in confusion. "what?"

"i mean.. she could be right y'know. we talked a bit before you came bro." kirishima said, walking in and closing the door behind him.

"right about what? shinsou is associated even if he wasn't the one who shot the bullet." katsuki asserted, standing up to meet kirishima, even if he was taller. this made kiri shoot his arms up in defense.

"i'm saying you're both right. we think it's someone closely associated to shinsou, someone who either taught him or was close to his teacher."

"eraserhead? the guy with a thousand hits under his belt?"katsuki glared, shoving a pointed finger in kirishima's chest.

"hey man, i'm just the messenger. but, no. someone else who learned from him too. but, midoriya called 'you know who' for information."

katsuki sighed, knowing the asshole who went by 'hawks' was about to be here any moment. "fine, i'll be ready soon. just.. let me take her home."

kirishima nodded, leaving the room with a "be back soon man!"

"i'm taking you home baby."

"fine."

"and you have to take all the medicine and stuff when i call you. we'll have to use burners again."

you rolled your eyes. "..fine."

"and, i want you to text me every hour and before you go to sleep."

"fucking fine. let's go already, this place creeps me out."

"good."

he grabbed your hand, helping you up. he let you change into some sweatpants and a tshirt so you didn't have to be the hospital gown for much longer.

you drove home, taking the long route so you wouldn't have to the see the remnants of your , almost, death in your own shop. he had to leave you in front and he wasn't happy about it. opening your door and hugging you tightly, you knew he wasn't going to see you for a couple days.

"babe, text me whenever you can. send me photos or voice messages i don't give a fuck."

"it's only a couple of days kat' you'll be fine, but i'll do it. you text me too, tell me when you sleep and stuff."

"don't let anyone in the house and don't tell anyone what's happenin-"

"i know, babe. i'll be okay."

he shared one last kiss with you. with a determined face he turned away, he would not sacrifice your life together like this. he wouldn't not let you get hurt again.

he would not fail.

next part

#ignores my other unfinished series*#mafia!bakugo #bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #bakugo drabble #mha x you #bakugo oneshot #katsuki bakugo mha #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bakugo angst

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cosmopretty · 5 months ago

Text

In The Car

Paige Bueckers x Fem smut

Synopsis: After the first win of the season Paige can’t help herself but take you right here and now.

The game today was crazy, going up and down until UConn got the win. Immediately when the clock shut off Paige looked at you smiling, proud of herself. The first win of the season, the team couldn’t be prouder of themselves.

Running down the court Paige meets you in the middle wrapping her arms around you, picking you up off the ground. She spins the two of you around “We did it ma we did it” she says putting you down pulling you into a kiss.

Before she can slide her tongue in your mouth and make out with you infront of everyone watching you pull away. She juts her bottom lip out “Not here Paige now go celebrate” you tell her turning her around and pushing her towards her team.

You walked out of the gym down to Paige’s car to wait for her like you usually do. After a few minutes she comes out the door and hug smile on her face. She runs up to you smiling “Hi princess” she asks casually opening the backseat door open for you.

Furrows your brows she pushes you in climbing on top of you before closing the door. Laughing you raise your brows “What you want baby?” you ask her thinking she would let you have control. One of her hands slides up your arm to your neck “Wanna put that pretty mouth to use ma” Paige says pulling you down to the car floor.

As you sit there on your knees looking up at the tall blonde in front of you, she pulls her shirt off and looks down at expectingly. You get the hint looping your fingers in her shorts and pulling them down. Going to take her underwear off with your hands, Paige pulls you back, by the back of your hair. Confused you look up at her through your lashes, she smiles down at you “Use your teeth ma” she says her other hand coming to brush some hair from your face.

Biting the top of her boxers you pull it down her legs with your teeth. There was nothing that had ever turned Paige on more than you on your knees infront of her.

Paige’s stomach tightens looking down at you, one hand holding the back of your head the other squeezing the seat behind her. She was embarrassingly wet, you gasp “Aw Paigey I make you this wet so easily” you tease her licking through folds.

Her hips jerk forward and she holds back a moan, your knees buried into the car floor and you press open mouthed kisses on her thighs. She groans “Stop teasing” she says trying to hold back from just pulling you into her, by your hair.

Moving your mouth to her core you suck on her clit, both of your hands on her thighs squeezing them. Paige’s hand in your hair tightens as she moans pulling you closer to her.

Your face shoved in her pussy, you move your tongue in her hole. Paige’s leg shake around you “Good girl keep going” she praises you pulling you impossibly closer to her. Your wetness starts dripping leaking through your panties, you wanted nothing more than to slide your hands down your pants to relieve yourself. But you knew the consequences and how much Paige wouldn’t like that, you were hers to touch, hers to please, only hers.

Paige can’t help herself but start grinding her hips on your face pulling you closer to her. She pulls you off abruptly “Stick your tongue out” she demands holding you in her hand. You stick your tongue out and Paige pulls you down and starts grinding her clit on your tongue. Her hand thought around your head, her face getting hot and soon she’s coming un done on your face. Her body spasms on your face before letting go of you breathing heavily.

You gasp catching your breath “No warning or anything P?” ask sarcastically getting up from the floor stretching your legs, sitting down next to her. Paige’s holds her finger up shushing you while she catches her breath “It’s not my fault I can’t help myself around you princess” she says smiling at you.

Before you realize she even moved, Paige is on top of you, pushing you back so you’re lying down across the seats. Her hand rubs your hip “Gotta taste you” she says ripping your pants off and panties quickly.

Her mouth immediately attaches to your clit sucking on the bundle of nerves. Your hand clays down to her blonde hair tugging it “God Paige please need more” you whine.

Choosing not to tease you Paige slips two of her fingers into your hole, going in fully till she can barely see her knuckles. You moan back arching off the seat, Paige’s free hand pushes your stomach back down. She shushes your moans “Shh ma don’t want you people to hear you huh” she nods her blue eyes staring up at you.

Trying to shut yourself up you bite your lip stifling a moan when Paige goes back to sucking on your clit. Accidentally moaning aloud Paige’s hand moves from your stomach to your moth covering it. Your pleasure is her pleasure she curls her fingers inside you pushing through your gummy walls.

Your stomach starts to tighten and Paige knows how loud you can get when you’re about to come. So she shoves two of her fingers down your throat while pushing her other two fingers, repeatedly hitting your G spot, deep inside you.

Paige pulls away from your clit moving up your body to kiss your neck “Let go for me princess, cum for me” she whispers in your ear curling her fingers in you once more.

“Good girl you’re doing so good for me” She praises you as your body twitches when you come all over her fingers. She shushes you moves her fingers from your mouth slowly, and slowing her fingers inside you but not pulling out.

You whine starting to feel overstimulated “P-Paige” you say her name causing her to still her fingers inside you. She nods and pulls out of you before sticking her fingers dripping in your juices in her mouth. You watch her in awe kind of turned on “Your so hot baby” you admit biting your lip.

Paige shakes her head no “If we go another round we won’t stop and we gotta go get ready for the team dinner come on” she tells you planting a kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself in her mouth moving forward Paige pulls away shaking her head. She cleans you up before helping you slide back into your clothes.

You help her get into her clothes and she opens the door for the both of you to get out, she helps you into the drivers seat. The whole drive home Paige’s thumb rubs circles on your thigh slowly inching higher.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #paige buckets #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x y/n #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige x you #paige talks #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers headcannons #paige bueckers x female oc #wbb smut #wbb x reader #uconn x reader #uconn women’s basketball

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azrielbrainrot · 4 months ago

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After The Show

Pairing: Band Member!Azriel x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Thigh Riding

Description: Azriel invites you to another of his concerts and you can't stop thinking about how hot he is the whole time.

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, semi public sex, car sex

Word Count: 1,2k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This story is simultaneously part of my band au and one of the stories I wrote for kinktober. This is just smut though so you don't really need to know about their lore before reading this or anything. Also I proofread this on the subway so I hope it's fine. Hope you enjoy!

Band AU Masterlist

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Azriel has always brought out the most intense feelings out of you, this much wasn't new. You've also seen him perform a million times before, even when you weren't officially dating yet, and while you had always thought he looked incredibly mesmerizing up on that stage, you had never had such a visceral reaction to it.

As you watched him play his bass and sing along with the music on stage tonight, you couldn't focus on anything other than unfairly attractive he was, eyes darting from his beautiful face to the way his shirt tightened around his biceps and expert fingers played the bass, plucking every string with ease. You barely even managed to pay attention to the music during the whole show even though he played one of your favorite songs.

So when he came down to give you a kiss after finishing his set to find you unbearably turned on, it came as a bit of a surprise for the both of you. You had been so needy that he couldn't resist putting away his stuff quickly, almost ignoring his friends and letting you drag him to the backseat of his car.

This wasn't a good idea, seeing as the bar was still open and your friends were still inside, but you were certain that if he didn't touch you right then and there you would explode. Azriel had tried to protest, wanting to drive you home so he could fuck you properly, but you shut him down with needy pleas and passionate kisses. And that's how you ended up straddling him and grinding down on his muscular thigh like your life depended on it.

The angle was awkward and there was barely enough space for you to sit on him let alone move properly. The short dress you wore had been hastily pulled up to your waist, his strong hands holding it in place so he could see the movement of your hips, the black panties you picked out drenched and on display for him, but you didn't care at all. Your only concern in that moment was the feeling of your soaked and sensitive cunt grinding against the rough material of his jeans, giving you just enough friction while he trailed wet kisses over your neck and shoulders, making you lose your mind even further.

The windows were fogging up with the temperature rising in the car, your harsh breaths and barely muffled moans filling up the space. It would be obvious what you were up to in there for anyone that passed by, good thing it was still early and the act playing after Azriel was good enough to keep everyone entertained.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his own desire evident in his tone, sitting back, sadly abandoning your neck, focusing on your body, mesmerized by the way your hips ground down on his thigh, so wet even though he had barely touched you. “You're making a mess, princess.”

A mess was an understatement, the fabric of his jeans was absolutely drenched under you. If you weren't seeing it too, you might have tried to deny it.

“This is your fault,” you manage to get out, the tone not as accusatory as you meant for it to be between your shaky breaths, your movements never faltering even though you were in such an uncomfortable position and your muscles were starting to burn.

“My fault?” He chuckles, hands grabbing onto your asscheeks, the rings he wore cool against your overheated skin. “I didn't even do anything.”

“You don't have to.”

“Yeah?” He starts guiding your movements, making you grind down into him even harder. “Love me that much?”

Nodding feverishly, you lean down to kiss him, knowing words aren't enough to tell him how much you truly love him, and you definitely couldn't find them in this moment, not when even breathing was proving too difficult and your thoughts were so scattered.

It's a messy kiss, teeth clanging together as you grab onto his hair, desperately needing more. One of his hands abandons your ass, trailing over your skin teasingly, too slowly for the current situation, until he finds your panties, pushing them to the side with his thumb so your cunt was grinding directly into the rough material of his jeans, the new sensation sending you to new heights.

Azriel resumes his earlier assault on your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses and sucking on the skin, probably hard enough that you'd have to cover up a few marks tomorrow - you couldn't even complain about the jovial nature of him leaving hickeys on your neck when you had been the one to drag him to the back of his car like a horny teenager. Wrapping a hand around your neck softly, he tilts your head to the side, kissing a trail up to your ear.

“You need to cum so I can drive you home and fuck you properly, princess.” He sounded a bit feverish himself. If you were a bit more lucid you would have noticed the way his cock was straining against his pants and the way his body seemed to tremble along with yours.

“I'll let you ride me just like this,” he whispers right against your ear, guiding your hips harder, showing exactly what he wanted. Gods, just the thought of his cock stretching you out makes you clench around nothing, a needy moan escaping you.

With how wound up you had been ever since he stepped on stage it's no surprise that your orgasm hits you so fast, it's actually stranger that you had managed to hold out for so long. It hits you like a wave, pulling you under until you can't breathe. You lean down and hide your face in his neck, a silent scream escaping you as you try your best not to make too much noise and alert the whole bar about the mind numbing orgasm your boyfriend just pulled from you in the backseat of his car.

Azriel keeps guiding your hips slowly, dragging it out until your body is shaking too much. He lets you wrap your arms around him and catch your breath as you come down, massaging your thighs softly. It takes you a while to come back down to earth, but when you do the first thing you notice isn't even how bad your muscles are burning after the intense workout, it's the soaked fabric under you and the wetness around your thighs.

“Still with me?”

His voice pushes you out of your thoughts, leaning back to find him watching you, his fingers coming up to push your hair behind your ear, the adoration in his hazel eyes sending a different kind of butterflies flying through your stomach.

“Yeah,” you say at last, kissing him softly before adding, “Still need you.”

The promise he made earlier hadn't been forgotten even in the midst of your jumbled thoughts, and as much as the intense orgasm had taken most of the edge off, you still wanted him to fuck you.

He hums, a teasing smile trying to fight its way onto his lips. “Think you can wait until we get home this time?”

You let out a soft laugh of your own, “As long as you get me there fast.”

#azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar kinktober #my writing

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crabsnpersimmons · 5 months ago

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i realize i never posted these boys

these are my boys for my restaurant AU: "Have You Eaten?"

the basic premise is this: Y/N works a stressful job where keeping up appearances is paramount. They often treat their clients to a meal at their favourite restaurant, run by the DCA boys—the nutrition-conscious chef Sun, the sweet and friendly chef Moon, and the charming front of house Eclipse. Y/N always orders something small and light so they can focus on talking with their client and maintaining appearances—nothing too large, nothing messy, nothing indulgent. Then after the meal, they walk their client to their car and they wait for their client to leave. Secretly, Y/N is a glutton. Once their client leaves, they hurry back to the restaurant, where their true meal is hot and ready for them.

Eclipse: Welcome back, Starlight! Ready for your second course?

Moon: Do you wanna skip straight to dessert? I tried a new recipe for donuts!

Sun: No. The hour is late, you should have something simple and adequately filling before bed.

Eclipse: Or... maybe you're interested in something "off the menu?"

they're a silly bunch (:

some other notes under the cut

the title is "Have You Eaten?" which is a common greeting in multiple languages. There's something warm about being greeted with this check-in to make sure you that have taken care of your body.

the restaurant is mostly based on a Hong Kong style cafe (a cha chaan teng) but the specials change often and often branch into other types of dishes and cuisines, because the boys like to experiment with new recipes.

Eclipse does have 4 arms, but he usually hides his second pair away because he's found it disturbed customers.

they can eat as an alternative method of recharging, and they can turn off their taste buds. Sun in particular has a bad habit of eating food scraps.

the DCA's relationship with each other is... complicated? They don't exactly like each other but are forced by their code to remain within a certain distance to each other. So they begrudgingly work and live together and cause trouble for each other's lives.

despite having separate bodies, their code forces them to stay within a certain radius (1515 feet, or the approximate distance between the 2 furthest points of the Mega Pizzaplex). They wear clip-on earrings to extend the range whenever they need extra space (usually Eclipse, hence why he has so many).

Eclipse is the oldest—he was built first for the theatre. Many years later, Eclipse was moved to the daycare to entertain children. But since they were short-staffed, Sun and Moon were built using Eclipse's code to help him at the daycare.

their pizzaplex was left to ruin and the three of them got out and were picked up by an old chef, who took them in and taught them everything he knows before leaving his restaurant to them and passing away.

i would like to write something for this AU. The main story still needs some work, but I have a lot of little drabble ideas that I might write. Or maybe it will be an AU full of drabbles. That's a possibility too. Although I would like to explore stories with other y/ns, like one who is a picky eater, one who has a lot of food allergies, etc.

also head's up: innuendos. innuendos everywhere. (most of which are Eclipse's fault)

#fnaf sun #fnaf moon #fnaf eclipse #fnaf dca #dca fandom #Have You Eaten? AU #Sun Have You Eaten? AU #Moon Have You Eaten? AU #Eclipse Have You Eaten? AU #crab art #bright colours #traditional art #these guys are SO fun #it started off with a silly little idea #and then i shared the idea with friends #and RPing helped me figure out their characters SO much #like #starriegalaxy and vacantfields are responsible for the way Eclipse turned out #Eclipse was born for me to torment my friends with (:

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gobblinggojo · 1 year ago

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"Say my Name."

summary: y/n l/n and inumaki toge have been together ever since they were first years in school together. now, as second years y/n has begun to grow distant with inumaki, instead opting to grow closer to inumaki's best friend, yuta okkotsu. Warnings: NSFW, Threesome, Voyeurism, Rough Sex, Porn With Plot, Impact Play, Inumaki Uses his Cursed Speech, Cheating, Switch Yuta, Dom Inumaki, Sub Reader, Reader Is Written With Female Anatomy, Slight Angst, Overstimulation, Cursing, Slight edging.

Truthfully, you did not know when your feelings for Inumaki had shifted. Honestly, it was hard working on a relationship where there was absolutely nothing to love about the other. Don't get me wrong, Inumaki gave you beautiful feelings of love for days on end--but you couldn't help it; your feelings just, disappeared. Much like water after a drought.

No matter how hard you tried to keep your feelings for Inumaki, you just couldn't. Every little thing he did had started to tick you off after about five months--and for almost a year now you had been putting on a mask in which you hid your true feelings for the beautiful boy behind. You supposed that this is how you found yourself in your current predicament. In the arms of your boyfriends best-friend; Yuta Okkotsu.

You knew it was wrong, that this would just hurt Inumaki more in the end, but truthfully, you couldn't help it. You've sent so many signals to Inumaki, that your feelings were long gone; it was his fault that he didn't seem to pick up on them, right? It couldn't have been your fault; it just couldn't have been. Yuta was a sweetheart, he treated you so well despite betraying his best-friend. You've spent nights in his arms, crying, begging him to help you break the news of your infidelity to Inumaki.

God, why couldn't he have helped you?

You were an awful human-being, and you were aware of it. Maybe that's why you were currently allowing Yuta to absolutely ravage you in your boyfriend's room, atop of his bed.

Loud moans echoed around the dimly lit room as you bounced up and down on Yuta's thick cock; your slick coated all around it, dripping down onto the satin bedsheets atop of Inumaki's bed. No matter how badly you knew you needed to stop, you just couldn't. It felt so goddamn good; his cock inside of your tight cunt--and the way he let out shaky moans against your ear as he helped you bounce up and down.

"F-Fuuck, Y/n--" His words were cut off as he let out a rather loud moan, throwing his head back as you took him all the way in. He felt so fucking good, his cock hit all of the right places inside of you, and you felt so fucking good around his cock. "R-right there! Fuck Yuta, right there!" He slammed you down harder against him, his hips lifting up slightly to reach deeper inside.

"Right there?" His voice was so whiny; so husky and whiny. A moan left your lips as you nodded, your left hand coming down between the two of you to rub at your clit in quick circular motions. "Yesss!" Moan after moan left your lips; you were practically seeing stars.

Yuta fucked you so much better than Inumaki, he hit all of the right places--it just felt so fucking good. Truthfully, you couldn't remember the last time that you came as hard as you did with Yuta; sure, Inumaki gave you orgasms, but they were never as good as the ones Yuta gave you.

A slap to your hand rubbing your clit brought your attention up to Yuta; who grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers together. "Y-you're squeezing me too t-tight, baby, don't wan' you cumming yet-" His voice was so hot as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. Just the sound of his whiny moans against your ear had you squeezing so fucking hard around his cock.

"Can't help it Yuta, fuck..I-I'm gonna cum-," You let out a high-pitched whine as Yuta stilled his movements completely, thin eyebrows furrowed as he gazed up at you. You panted, trying so hard to catch your breath before Yuta started up your movements once again, slamming you up and down on top of his cock once more. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed around the room as his movements grew quicker. God his cock was so fucking good.

"Fuck, quit squeezin' so hard, y/n."

"I can't stop," you moaned out, his dick was just so fucking good; reaching all of the right places inside of you. You couldn't help but squeeze around Yuta as he continued to pound up into your cunt, slamming you down to meet his movements. It wasn't long until Yuta let out a loud groan, sitting up to bury his face into your neck and biting down as he slammed up into you one more time, groaning loudly as spurts of his cum shot up into your cunt.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the warm feeling enveloping your insides; gasping loudly as you felt your cunt tighten more around Yuta's cock, milking him for all he was worth. Fuck, you were so fucking close to your end, you just needed a little more time. You slowly continued to bounce up and down on Yuta's cock, trying so desperately to reach your end, all while overstimulating poor Yuta who let you do as you pleased--using his cock as your personal fuck-toy.

"I-I'm so close!"

Yuta only moaned in response, his thighs shaking slightly, muscles spasming, as he laid back on Inumaki's bed, allowing you to continue to ride his overstimulated cock to reach your end. You were so fucking close, your bouncing never once ceased as you chased your high, eyes rolling back into your skull once more and mouth hanging open as you felt yourself coming undone.

"Don't cum."

Your eyes shot open as you felt your release slowly fade away; you were so fucking close. Yuta shot up; eyes wide as he looked over your shoulder at who had spoken. You knew all-too-well who the familiar voice had belonged to--you could feel yourself freeze as you slowly turned your head, face turning red in complete embarrassment at the realization that you had just been caught by Inumaki, fucking Yuta in his own bed.

The male stood in his doorway; his silhouette barely visible in the dim light that came from his now opened door. His usually zipped-up mask unzipped revealing the markings on his face. Purple eyes stared right at where you and Yuta laid, narrowed and holding nothing but anger and betrayal inside.

"Fuck- Toge, it's not what it looks like!" You pulled away from Yuta, trying so hard to rise up from his cock. "Don't move." Instantly, your body slammed back down on top of Yuta, a loud moan left your lips and Yuta's at the feeling of his cock going back inside of you.

The door slammed shut, and all you heard was footsteps as Inumaki walked towards his bed. Yuta's black eyes were wide as he watched hopelessly as his best-friend walked to the edge of the bed, stopping as staring at the both of you, two people that he was supposed to trust, fucking. "I-Inumaki, I swear Y/n had nothing to do with thi-" Yuta was cut off. "Don't speak."

Purple eyes moved to stare right at your fucked-out face, slowly, Inumaki moved to the chair resting in front of his desk. He sat down, hand resting on the visible bulge under his clothes. "Fuck her." He was now staring right at Yuta, his left hand coming out to point at you as if he needed an indicator as to who you were.

You gasped as Yuta shot up, his hands wrapping around your waist and moving you off of his cock, only for a moment before he had you pinned under him on the bed, his chest flushed against yours as he slammed right back into your abused cunt. Your mouth opened in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes rolling into your skull as Yuta began to pound away at your cunt.

The sound of skin slapping skin echoed through the room, moans and whines leaving your lips, and groans leaving Yuta's, as Inumaki watched his best-friend fuck you. Having someone's eyes on you in as your cunt is being rammed into over and over again was such a turn-on that you didn't even realize you liked. Not once had you ever thought about having someone watch you as you were being fucked, not with Inumaki, and certainly not with Yuta. But fuck, did you regret it. Your head slammed back as your body was used as nothing but a fuck-toy for Yuta, mouth hung open in a silent scream as your eyes interlocked with Inumaki's.

Fuck, he was touching his own cock, staring right into your eyes as you were being fucked.

"I'm close again-" Yuta's voice broke your gaze away from Inumaki, your eyes shooting up to gaze at Yuta once more. Black orbs stared right into your own e/c orbs; his face was flushed red, sweat coating his forehead as he continued slamming in and out of you.

Not once did Inumaki stop watching, he was silent as his hand stroked up and down his cock, his pre-cum helping with his motions, watching your fucked-out expression closely as Yuta fucked you so good. "Cum on her," Yuta's head shot up, turning to stare at Inumaki with wide eyes as his body pulled out of you against his will, his cum shot out in white ropes all over your lower stomach and your cunt, coating it in his cum.

Your mouth hung open as you panted, revelling in the feeling of Yuta's come dripping down your pussy and your stomach, Yuta was panting, gasping for air as he moved to lay down beside you. You heard footsteps once more, and before you knew it, Inumaki stood over you.

"Get on your hands and knees; ass up."

Your body moved against its will; coated in sweat and cum as you shifted onto your hands and knees; your back arched, ass up and in the air. You could feel your cunt clench around nothing and fuck, you were sure Inumaki saw.

"T-Toge I swear... I didn't mean it-" A harsh smack to your behind caught you off guard. A loud gasp left your lips; eyes widening as you turned your head to gaze over your shoulder at Inumaki, who stood behind you, lining his cock up against your opening. Your mouth fell open once again in a silent moan as he rubbed his thick cockhead against your cum-coated pussy.

His tip bumped against your clit every now and then as he continued to rub himself up and down on you; a soft moan leaving his lips at the feeling, before his free hand came down on your ass once more, slapping it roughly. Another loud gasp left your lips; your eyes half-lidded as you turned your head and stared towards Yuta, who was watching both you and Inumaki with half-lidded eyes, his hand lazily ghosting over his half-hardened cock.

Inumaki continued to rub his cock against your pussy for another minute or so before finally, he slammed himself right into you rather harshly. "Fuck, Toge!" You screamed out as he began to relentlessly slam in and out of you; his cock ramming against your g-spot over and over again as he fucked you roughly.

His hand came down on your ass multiple times, slapping it over and over again and leaving multiple red marks-- and fuck, did it hurt. You could feel tears welling up in your vision as the pain and pleasure that were overflowing your senses. Fuck, you needed to come so fucking bad.

"Toge plea-" You were cut off by another slap to your ass. "Don't speak." He groaned out as his hips slammed against your own once more. you could feel your arms giving out, forcing you to fall face-first into the bed, ass still up as Inumaki fucked you so fucking good. Almost as good as Yuta, who was still rubbing his overstimulated cock slowly at the sight of you getting used by your now possible ex-boyfriend.

You could feel Toge resting his chest against your back, his hips slamming over and over against your own in a continuous assault of your cunt. Everything felt so fucking good; your body felt like it was on fire as Inumaki continued to fuck you over and over again.

The continuous pattern that Inumaki kept up of him pounding away at your cunt slowly began to turn sloppy, indicating that he was close to his release--You felt like you were going to burst; you really needed to cum. Another loud moan left your lips, eyebrows shooting up as Inumaki's hand came out from behind you, going down and beginning to rub quick circles on your clit; your wetness dripped down onto the bedsheets as Inumaki continued to slam in and out of your cunt-- the added stimulation and Inumaki's words; "Cum" was all you needed before your back arched, body shaking as you came, hard, all over Inumaki's cock.

A loud moan left Yuta's lips as well as he came once more all over his hand, watching as Inumaki slammed one final time inside of you before he came deep inside: his warm seed mixing in with Yuta's from earlier.

A moment passed as all three of you sat there, trying to catch your breaths before Inumaki slowly pulled out, groaning as he watched both his and Yuta's seed dripping out of you.

You turned your head once more, face flushed as Yuta sat up.

"Inumaki, Im so sorr-" Inumaki held a hand up, purple orbs staring at Yuta as he reached over to his nightstand, grabbing his medicine for his throat. "I don't care." His voice was so soft as he spoke, uncapping his medicine and taking a swig of it before setting it down on his nightstand once more. He soon turned his head to look towards you, eyebrows furrowing as he watched your fucked-out expression closely.

"We'll do this again, tomorrow. I'll show you how much of a whore Y/n can be, Yuta."

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