#and pretty likely to be an Anything Goes sort of guy
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Were-Raven Wednesday bringing all her friends shiny rocks as gifts… except she doesn’t ever tell them that she gifted them, instead just left them on their pillows, windowsills, one even in Divina’s duffel bag where she keeps her swimming gear.
The others believe it’s a threat of some sort, that perhaps someone’s found out about the Nightshade Society and start becoming suspicious.
In the Nightshade Society’s hidden library, three members go over a new discovery.
Bianca: *frowning* That’s a goddamn blue sapphire. Where did you find it?
Divina: *worriedly* It was in my swim bag.
Yoko: *studies the sapphire* It matches your eyes, babe.
Bianca: Just like the rest. Shit. That’s almost all of us, then. This can’t be a coincidence.
Bianca: Aquamarine in my fencing duffel, turquoise in Kent’s Switch case, smoky quartz in Ajax’s bong…
Bianca: That’s all the Nightshades except for—
Divina: *worriedly* Except for Yoko.
Yoko: *looks up*
Bianca: So, Yoko, have you found any gems in your stuff? Something that matches your eyes, like a ruby?
Divina: Or a garnet? Maybe a carnelian?
Yoko: *hesitantly* Not exactly.
Bianca: *eyes narrow in suspicion* Is that so?
Yoko: Bitch, don’t look at me like that! I haven’t gotten anything that matches my eyes, but—
Yoko: *rummages through her pockets* —I did find this stupid pebble… hah! Here!
With her exclamation, Yoko presents a small, oddly-shaped brown pebble. The two sirens crowd in for a closer look.
Divina: That doesn’t look like a gem. Heck, it looks more like dried mud.
Bianca: Huh. Where’d you find it?
Yoko: This fucking thing was in my favorite boots! I was walking on it all day. Stupid piece of shit hurt like a bitch!
Bianca: *glares at the rock* This doesn’t make any sense. It breaks the pattern. It doesn’t match your eyes and it’s not a precious stone.
Voice: That depends on your definition of precious.
The three girls jump in shock at the unexpected voice. Yoko’s pebble goes flying through the air, only to be caught by—
Wednesday: *studies the pebble* Hmn. This may not be a gemstone, per se, but it is by no means mundane.
Bianca: *hisses* Addams, you have got to stop doing that!
Wednesday: *ignores Bianca as she holds the stone out to Yoko*
Yoko: *takes it back* So do you know what it is?
Wednesday: That is a coprolite, also known as a coprolith.
Bianca: What the shit is coprolite?
Wednesday: *seems somehow amused* What indeed.
Divina: Wait, I think I remember something from that museum trip last month. It’s like a fossil, isn’t it?
Wednesday: How astute of you, Divina. You are correct.
Yoko: Okay, so it’s a fossil, but of what?
The seer appears to the ignore the question as she tucks away whatever book she came for. She begins to leave, only to pause at the bottom of the stairs up.
Wednesday: I’ll allow a single CAW CA—
Bianca/Yoko/Divina: 🤨😟🫢
Wednesday: *coughs and clears her throat* CLUE. I’ll allow a single clue, which is…
Wednesday: Tanaka is often full of it.
Bianca/Yoko/Divina: 😑🤨😦
Wednesday: Beyond that, you have your phones. Make use of them.
Bianca: *glares after Wednesday as she ascends the steps* Bitch.
Yoko: *already on her phone* Copralite. Copra—wait, no. Co-pro-lite! Got it!
Divina: What is it, babe?
Yoko: 😐
Yoko: 🤨
Yoko: 😠
Yoko: It’s shit.
Bianca: What?
Divina: *snags Yoko’s phone and reads*
Divina: She’s not kidding. It’s like fossilized dinosaur poop.
Yoko: *scowling* Are you fucking kidding me? You guys all get pretty gems and all I get is fucking Cretaceous crap?!
Yoko: *cries out* FUCK!
Divina: *tries to comfort Yoko* It’s okay, babe. Maybe it’s from something cool, like a T-Rex.
Yoko: *shouts at pebble* You better be a tyrannoturd or else I’m gonna—
Bianca ignores the tirade as she stares thoughtfully at where Wednesday stood only moments ago.
Bianca: *mutters to herself* Was ca-ca another clue? Or did she go caw caw, like a…?
#bianca may have figured it out#answered asks#asks answered#asks#rachelsfav queer#wednesday addams#bianca barclay#yoko tanaka#divina wednesday#wednesday netflix#wenclair#incorrect wenclair#incorrect wednesday addams#incorrect wednesday quotes#incorrect quotes#ficlet
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🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓🐓
⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️
54 for 🐓:
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Because Eddie is straight. He’s a straight guy. He… Right?
But then again…
How do you know if something is sort of gay like theoretically or actually gay?
“Can I quickly interject that I was miserable, too?” Buck says quickly.
“Yes. Yeah, uh, that’s good to know,” Eddie replies. “I mean, not good that you were miserable. But good that… That, I hope we’re on the same page.”
What page? What fucking page? Please assume Buck chose an audiobook and has no idea where he is, just what’s happened!
“I don’t… I’m really struggling to figure myself out, here,” Eddie admits, sighing. “I’ve had a lot going opn and I maybe should devote more time to this part of myself, but… But I just know that… I can’t… I don’t want us to be apart.”
“You… You’re not just… This isn’t just a New Year’s surprise?” Buck asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “No. You’re family. Chris and I agree.”
“You… The two of you… You came back for me?”
“Yeah,” Eddie replies nervously. “We did. And… And I don’t want to assume how you feel… I’ve been trying to nail down how I feel…”
“Wait,” Buck says, brain buffering like a video over bad WiFi connection. “When you called me high…”
“Oh, please don’t remind me of that,” Eddie begs.
“You were calling to ask me if you are attracted to me?” Buck gapes.
“Okay, so… I was high. Please remember I have no tolerance built up, so-”
Buck laughs, delighted. “You wanted me to, what? Give you permission to be into me?”
“Well,” Eddie’s face goes even redder. “Maybe a little.”
“Granted. Permission granted. I’ve been into you for ages and I didn’t have to apply for a permit or anything.”
Eddie’s face morphs into a relieved smile.
---
54 for ⚡️:
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He worries that whatever happens with Bobby is going to freak Buck out. Send him into an abandonment spiral. He worries that he’ll hit a breaking point and need to leave the station. And that will inevitably hurt Buck, too. He loves his husband more than anything other than his kids. He doesn’t want to hurt him, if he can avoid it. He’s just not sure he can avoid it.
☆☆☆
Eddie gets more answers about the future of the 118 on Bobby’s first shift back.
It’s a strange shift in that it’s someone’s long-awaited return and Hen isn’t there. No banner. No cake. And she didn’t tell anyone. What the actual fuck?
“She had an appointment,” Bobby waves it off when they ask. But he doesn’t explain and not even Chim has heard anything.
So…
What gives?
Then, Bobby calls Eddie into his office. Just Eddie. No one else gets talked to. For a moment, Eddie wonders if Hen has reported to Bobby that Eddie’s apathy has only increased. That maybe he has got worse at his job. That he’s in trouble. But when Bobby sits him down across from his desk, Eddie only gets a positive feeling from him. And in eight years, Eddie’s become pretty good at reading his mood.
“So how are things, Eddie?” Bobby asks.
“Good,” Eddie nods. “Yeah, good. Unless you ask Buck, of course. Brooke’s not eating her carrot mush, and he’s kind of turning it into a conspiracy. So, uh, maybe reassure him she won’t go blind without carrots?”
Bobby chuckles. “Okay, good to know. But I mean professionally. How are things here?”
Eddie’s expressions falls. Fuck.
“You already know, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I’d like to hear it from you anyway,” Bobby says.
“I’ve still been doing my job well,” Eddie says firmly. “Just because I’m not as enthusiastic, doesn’t mean I’m not doing a good job.”
“I know,” Bobby agrees. “No doubt about it.”
“Thank you,” Eddie exhales.
“So, then… How about this?” Bobby says. “Would you like to know where Hen is today?”
Well, this isn’t what Eddie expected.
“Sure,” he replies. He’ll bite. “Yeah, actually. I’m curious.”
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when i started following you i was a firm bisexual kiryu believer and now with every post about this man im more and more leaning into “oh so hes just a gay man heavy in denial. okay”
all according to keikaku
#welcome to my twisted mind#im glad my insane ramblings arent in vain#this was supposed to be a stupid doodle in response to this ask but I got carried away and now it looks like a youtube thumbnail#but yeah anyway. when I first started playing the games I was sorta the other way around from what I am now- thought it’d be more likely for#kiryu to come off more bi and majima more outright gay. but the more i played and Absorbed and thought about stuff i realized man.#kiryu’s just. really not into women. like whatever majima is / whatever preferences he may have he seems overall pretty flexible#and pretty likely to be an Anything Goes sort of guy#in comparison to kiryu who’s just#not into women. period. and it is not subtle. he doesn’t have majima’s charisma or social skills so he doesn’t talk himself around it#or really give excuses or whatever else. so it’s pretty stark sometimes in a way less ambiguous way than with majima in my opinion#anywho it’s almost 5am I should go to bed#kiryu#kazuma kiryu#yakuza#rgg#rambling#my art#im realizing the way I wrote the words on that doodle kinda look like the yakuza dont hdhdjfjf that was not on purpose#*font
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my comic is live right now!
kyle and rex is an absurdist drama set in a stagnant afterlife where everyone lies, cheats, manipulates, and hurts each other in order to gain political power and admiration from the public.
with characters constantly haunted by ghosts of the past, trying to stay on top of the food chain despite constant betrayals and having their secrets held up above their heads, comes back kyle, from his long stay back as a guiding spirit on earth, to take back reigns of the throne in the inbetween. though much like everyone else, hes got a long list of dirty laundry that many are aching to reveal. there are no real friends here.
⸻
updates every 2 weeks, at 6:30 pm central US time! (SP & ENG)
WEBTOON: english link + spanish link
TAPAS: english link + spanish link
FANEO: spanish link
#HI. GUYS. PUKES EVERYWHERE#im SO FUCKING NERVOUS#oh but first of all the link on top is a link to the promotional animation that goes along with the airing of my comic :) so if you want to#watch that you can. smile#anyways im just. really beyond excited and also terrified to start. cus you know#once i upload this theres no going back and im going to be constantly then publishing project after project thereafter and thats pretty muc#what ive been wanting to do all my life#so im just like this is the start of it this is going to set everything into motion!!!#im not expecting to get a ton of followers or readers or anyhting this soon specially since i think it starts to get GOOOOOD#after you learn some context but this is my first first original launch and im really excited!!!!!#i usually dont do this because i dont find it very important to me not as much as telling a really good story at least but obviously i have#tons of trans and lgbt just entire rainbow up in there and the majority of the characters#are not white they are from different cultures AND times#so if youre looking to read brown and queer stories by authors of the same there is that#anyone is fully welcomed to send any asks with questions or anything whatsoever!!!#i know its sort of a long post but as a notice i will be reblogging this every time i finish an entire new chapter#to keep people aware!!! c: i know it may be a bit annoying but i just want to get the word out !!#if youre bilingual i think it would be fun to see the differences between the translations i put i translated it myself since spanish is my#first language and well i think is funney :3#smile!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#kyle and rex#my comic#webtoon#tapas#faneo#what do people tag these things wif.....#my art#technically!#i supourse ill have to rb it to my art blogs too yipee!!!
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I have this feeling that I have unofficial beef with my neighbor...
#text#okay so if you wanna know:#this old lady above our apartment didn't like me even before I moved in#when she first met me we had some guys over who uninstalled and took away the old kitchen cause we were getting a new one#and she instantly tried to file some sort of complaint that it was apparently against the house rules to put spacious furniture into the#elevator without some sort of cover because the elevator could get scratches or something but get this#there was nothing in the house rules that said this. my dad even asked the ppl in charge of the house rules and they confirmed that#pretty weird isn't it? well haven't seen each other too often so I had the fortune of not having to put up with her... until 2 days ago#I just did my laundry and wanted to put it up on the communal drying rack in the basement#you also have to know that the neighbors to the right of us smoke weed. A LOT. I don't rly care you do you but they seem to smoke 24/7#So much their entire apartment reeks of weed and they actually open their apartment door for like 1 hour in the evening to air#and of course our entire floor smells. so I get into the elevator and wanted to press the button for the basement floor but I notice it#suddenly goes up. and I'm just like okay fine.... until I run into the weird old lady and we stare at each other awkwardly#and I'm like “well... you need to go up or down...?” and she's like “I need to go down but I don't wanna get into the elevator with you..”#(get ready for what she says next) “... because your laundry smells” and you should have seen my confusion. I was so damn close to saying#“you think I put WEED into my laundry?? are you sure???” but I didn't say anything and just went well okay then not ig#So I go to the basement and put up my laundry a little bewildered but still mostly amused go back up and sleep over it#Well today I returned from college and went down to collect the laundry when I found a little piece of paper hung right next to it that said#“when you leave the washroom turn of the lights” but I swear to god I put out the light I'm 100% sure. And like she also knew I was down#there cause I was in the elevator and like why would someone put in all this effort to print out a piece of paper instead of just turning#the lights off themselves??? Idk maybe I rly did leave the lights on and this is a weird paranoia I'm having#but I can't shake of the feeling that it was her and she's trying to beef with me rly hard. idk old ppl are so weird man...
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"give me a beer, a lullaby, and a word in my ear" -guy at a speed dating event in my dream
#dream log#also had a dream that this green alien came up to me on the street and like wanted me to pick it up and take it somewhere#the like video game objective changed to#changed to go home#but i didnt know where that was so i just started running#but as i. running the alien is like bouncing and it starts blushing#and later when i put in down to kind ageg my bearings its like super wet#between the legs and im like. oh man i think i need to fuck this thing#and i know theirs a game mechannic where you can have sex in bushes and stiff but im like 'no ill just go home first' but when i pick the#alien back up i get a 'failed objective' notification cause i never made it home i guess :(#and another dream. i was back in middle school math. there was a seat that was right infront of and right next to two people i was friends#with plus super close to my crush (other side of my friend) and there was a guy sitting there#but he was like. literally a fly. so i snapped and he just dropped dead.#and i got to sit there. my friend then was like “see this?” and pointed to her lip#and i wa slike “yeah” even though i didnt see anything#and she was like “you can hide a lot of your burdens but you cant hide a hickey” and i was like. man. am i supposed to do somehting sbout#that? idk im pretty sure this is a dream. did she actually say this to me before? am i supposed to do somehting now?“. but then the dream#ended#THEN these are out of order but then i had a dream i was in some sort of summer camp thing? people kept going home. my friend M. went home#home and left me a bunch of her clothes. one of the guys asked some sort of question about sleeping with him. and i was like “no? lol.”#then i invited a different guy to come watch me change and that first guy was i guess also in the room and was like “you know people can se#you through the window right?“ and i was like ”duh. its ohio. thats kinda the point.“#so. whatever that one means.#THEN last one THEN my cousin drove me to an abandoned trailer to explore and it had “too lo” or something spray painted on it or somehting#so then he finished the word to say “too long” or somehting of that nature. and then spray panted the handle of the door blue#and we went in side but the inside was all done up? like really fucking fancy#the kitched was completely lainted in this van gogh style and my cousin goes “this isnt haunted... its fixed up.”#so wel left. i think be showed me something else before that too but i dont remember#in the summer camp one i spent a long time trying to find these snake/pomegranate earings? they were blue abd green
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Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.
(Steve would do the same for her).
Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.
64 and going down. Not a good sign.
Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”
Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.
“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”
His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.
“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”
Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.
“This tastes like shit, by the way.”
“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”
The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.
Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.
57 after he pricked. Thank god.
It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.
He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.
“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.
“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”
Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.
Chrissy would love her.
He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.
“How’s my blizzard?”
He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.
The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”
Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.
“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”
“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#diabetic steve harrington#Eddie Munson is Hispanic in my head#meet cute#kind of meet ugly tho#depends how you look at it#robin buckley#I need more fics where steve has diabetes#type 1 diabetes#strawb writes
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There is an AITA out there that I can't find but it's been haunting me for weeks with visions of semi-angsty Steddie that I need to release onto the world. (If anyone happens to know what I'm talking about hit me up and I'll link it)
Edit: @jazzathebunny found the original AITA from Reddit linked Here for anyone who wants to read it. I'm definitely not doing exactly the same premise but this was my jumping off point 😊
Part Two! ------
Modern AU, Eddie and the guys are a moderately successful local band in the Chicago area playing gigs on the weekends and doing small tours whenever they all have the time. Gareth and Jeff are both in college while Eddie and Freak are both working part-time at a game store. Eddie managed to lock down that assistant manager position that lets him work 30 hours a week with weekends off for gigs. All in all, it's a pretty sweet deal and they can't complain.
Eddie had sworn off dating after a small handful of disastrous relationship attempts in their first year in the city. He dismisses any advances from people who attend their shows and tries not to think about how much he wants to make a genuine connection with someone and have something real. He's been burned one too many times to try and make something with someone he met in a bar or at work.
He knows the guys talk about it behind his back sometimes, he catches Jeff and Gareth fervently whispering to each other and stopping when they catch him entering the room one time too many to not suspect they're talking about him and he can't think of anything else going on in his life that they would feel the need to whisper about.
The fervent conversations take a slight uptick one day and about a week and a half after they do, Gareth hits him up and tells him he wants to set Eddie up with a guy from one of his classes. At first, Eddie is skeptical and cites all the reasons why he doesn't want to try with anyone right now but eventually, Jeff jumps in to plea the case and Freak jumps in on top of that and under the combined weight of his best friends he agrees to meet up with this Steve guy.
The guys set up the whole thing and before Eddie knows it it's Saturday night and he's wearing his best black jeans and a gray button-down, untucked, to go on an honest to God blind date like his life is some low-budget romcom.
Steve is not at all what Eddie thought he would be. Not the kind of guy he thought his friends would pick out for him given they know he usually goes for other alternatives like himself. Steve, who is shyly waving him over and getting out of his seat to great him, is the very epitome of prep. Well-fitted polo, light blue chinos, and what Eddie assumes this guy thinks are casual loafers. He's handsome to be sure, a 12/10 at least with perfect hair and defined biceps but Eddie is fairly sure he's being punked.
But, Eddie doesn't want to be rude so he goes to meet Steve at the table, confirming just in case that he's actually here to meet with a guy named Eddie. Steve gives him a bit of a confused look, saying that Gareth showed him a couple pictures of Eddie before he agreed to meet and figured he'd done the same for Eddie off Steve's Instagram. Gareth had, in fact, not done anything of the sort but they both dismiss it and get on with their date.
In all honesty, Eddie is expecting it to be a complete wash, but it turns out that even if Steve is not at all what Eddie would have previously said what his type, Steve is damn near perfect. He's funny, kind, a little bitchy, and even though he proves himself to be every bit the sports nerd he looks like he doesn't turn his nose up at Eddie's own much more classically nerdy interests. By the end of the date, Eddie has a new type and that type is Steve Harrington. He's quick to lock down a second date for the next weekend which Steve happily agrees to. They exchange numbers and Steve gives Eddie a chaste kiss on the cheek that has him floating all the way home.
Steve texted him that next morning letting him now he had a great time and is really looking forward to their next date and Eddie thinks this might be the start of something big for him. When he gets to practice he's clearly still floating on cloud nine and in his own little world designing their marriage invitations and matching tombstones so he doesn't notice the sly grins on his bandmates' faces.
"So...how'd it go last night? Everything you dreamed it would be?" Gareth asks, a strange glint in his eyes that Eddie doesn't clock.
Eddie goes on and on about how nice Steve was and how he might be The One, thanking Gareth profusely. Freak looks pleased for him, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder in congratulations but when Eddie finally tunes back into the real world he's greeted by Gareth's livid expression and Jeff's overly concerned one.
He asks the guys what the fuck is up and it turns out that Gareth and Jeff set this whole thing up as a prank of sorts. Eddie was never supposed to hit it off with Steve who Gareth selected specifically because he's a "totally brain-dead prep" and as far away as someone could get from Eddie's previous relationships. He was supposed to be someone Eddie could go on a date with and not form a connection with without getting completely burned at the end like all his previous relationships in the hopes of getting him out of his slump.
Jeff was in on it as well. He wanted to get Eddie back out there, so when Gareth presented the plan he sat in on a couple of Gareth's general credit business class sessions to help pick the guy out.
After Jeff and Gareth finish explaining he does a complete 180 and just...leaves. In any other situation, he would be raging and verbally tearing his friends a new asshole but instead, he completely disengages and walks out the garage door, ignoring his friends' shouts to come back.
He goes back home, socked and hurt and so very confused about how the hell he found himself in this position when his phone lights up.
New Message: Steve H.
Fuck.
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Part two coming soon??? Maybe???? We'll see.
#is this something?#idk#It's so clear in my head but it hasn't been flowing correctly#so here's this instead#steddie#fanfiction#steve harrington#corroded coffic#eddie munson#stranger things#dreamer speaks
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Pretty bunny
PART 1 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST
Sub!Spencer x Playboy Bunny!Reader Spencer doesn’t know what to do when he recognizes you from his favorite adult magazine.
Content: (18+) 3k, boobjob, male oral, public space, and Spencer being insecure of his size but we love him just the way he is, right? a/n: "WE LOVE PRINCE CHARMING REID!" We say in unison while we hold hands and continue to chant over and over again
Issue number: 662. Date: June 2009. Centerfold, pages 36 through 42, draped in nothing but the iconic bunny ears.
Spencer shook his head. No. There was no way it could be you. There was no way the same Playboy bunny he had masturbated to was casually picking up a book in this quiet library. But there was something unmistakable about you. The familiar curve of your back, the subtle sway of your hips, the way your ass rounded perfectly as you reached further down the bottom shelf.
His pants tightened uncomfortably.
It really was you.
Dear god, what were the chances? Spencer had only come to this library on a whim. It was supposed to be a simple day—run a few errands on his free day, pick up groceries, maybe find a new book to keep himself occupied. But what he didn’t expect was to come face-to-face with the very woman he had spent far too many nights thinking about. The same woman whose body he knew too well, even if you didn’t know him at all.
He shifted nervously, trying to focus on anything else—the books, the shelves, the smell of old pages—but his eyes drifted back to you. His gaze lingered on the neckline of your blouse dipping low as you bent further, revealing the soft curve of your breasts.
His tongue swiped over his bottom lip.
“Can I help you?”
Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he noticed you staring at him.
“No,” he rushed out, the word falling through his lips like autopilot. "I was, uh, looking for a book."
Your brow raised slightly. “I didn’t know I was part of the collection.”
He could feel the heat creeping up his neck, and he looked away, trying to think of a response that didn’t make him sound like an idiot.
“No, no, that’s not—of course you’re not… I—” He stopped, realizing he was only digging himself into a deeper hole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
You straightened up, and he took in a sharp breath when your hips shifted slightly, brushing against the shelf as you moved.
“I wouldn’t say uncomfortable. Curious, maybe.” You crossed your arms. “You don’t seem like the kind of guy who goes around staring at women in libraries.”
“I don’t,” he blurted out, his voice coming out a little higher than he intended. The way your crossed arms subtly pushed up your breasts only made it harder for him not to gawk at your chest. His gaze briefly flickered downward before snapping back to your face.
“I don’t,” he repeated in a voice he hoped sounded more confident than he felt. “You look… familiar.”
“Familiar? Have we met before?”
Of course not. Well, to you at least. He, on the other hand, had seen you more times than he could count. In photos, in dreams, in moments he’d rather not admit. “I… might have seen you in passing.” It was the truth. Sort of. “I didn’t expect to see you in a library.”
You let out a soft laugh. “I guess I don’t seem like the reading type to you, do I?”
He quickly shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I just didn’t expect to run into someone like you here.”
“Someone like me?”
"You know, someone who’s, uh, famous.”
He instantly winced when the words tumbled out, regretting how awkward and clumsy it sounded.
“Ah,” you said with a knowing smile. “So you do recognize me.”
He paused for a moment, his eyes darting to the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but directly at you. “I… yes, I do. And I’m sorry,” he added, his second apology in less than five minutes. “I didn’t mean to make this weird.”
Your smile deepened, clearly enjoying his discomfort, but not in a cruel way—more in the sense that you found his awkwardness oddly charming. “It’s fine, I’m actually used to it,” you told him, uncrossing your arms. “And I don’t mind being recognized by someone as cute as you.”
Spencer’s eyes widened slightly. “…cute?”
“Adorable,” you emphasized. “What’s your name?”
You called him cute. Cute.
What was his name again?
Oh. Right.
“Spencer.” He cleared his throat nervously. "I’m... Spencer."
“Spencer,” you repeated, and he could hear the way your voice softened, almost breathless, like you were savoring the sound of his name as it slipped from your lips. “It suits you.”
His tongue swiped along his bottom lip. “It does?”
“Mm-hmm. It has a nice ring to it.” Your eyes flickered down to his mouth for a split second before meeting his gaze again. "Strong, but gentle. You seem like the type of guy with those traits."
Spencer felt a wave of heat run through him. “I—I wouldn’t say that...”
“Well you are,” you continued, leaning in just slightly. “You seem gentle, but there’s more to you, isn’t there?”
“I… I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
"Oh, come on," you said with a teasing grin, your eyes flickering over his features as if trying to read the depths of his thoughts. "You've got that sweet, quiet thing going on. Like you're trying to be all polite and proper... but there's something else, isn't there?"
His eyes darted at the edge of the bookshelf. “No. I’m just… me.”
"Just you? Somehow, I don't believe that. I think there's a side to you that doesn't come out very often. Maybe you're not so innocent as you let on. Or maybe..." Your voice dropped lower, almost a whisper, just loud enough for him to hear. "Maybe you're not as gentle as you seem."
There was a flicker of panic in his eyes as he tried to laugh off your words, the sound coming out strained and awkward.
“I’m really not that…”
But you didn’t let him finish. You leaned in closer, just enough that he could feel the heat of your body, your breasts brushing lightly against his chest.
“Not that what?” you pressed. “Not that innocent, or not that gentle?”
His pulse pounded visibly at his throat. “I... don’t know what you mean,” he said, but you could see the way his pupils dilated, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.
“I think you do,” you replied softly, your fingers brushing just barely against his. You watched as he stiffened, his shoulders momentarily tensing as if the slightest touch sent a shock through his whole body. You smiled, leaning in just a fraction closer. “I like you.”
You felt his breath hit your face as he let out a strangled sound, almost a gasp, and the warmth of it urged you on. Your hand gently found its way to his arm, fingers tracing a path down to his wrist.
“And I think,” you continued, looking up at him with wide eyes. “You might like me too.”
Spencer couldn’t find the words to respond, he couldn’t even breathe properly. How could he when your sweet scent filled his senses? How could he when he had imagined what it might be like to touch you, to have you this close, and now it was real?
He took a deep, calming breath to steady himself, but his heart was pounding violently against his ribcage, and his mouth had gone completely dry. Your fingers trailed down his arm, lingering for a moment before slipping under his hand to guide it firmly to your waist.
He was sure he could combust right on the spot.
“Tell me something, Spencer,” you murmured. “Did you like my pictures? The ones in the magazine?”
He tenses under your touch. His pupils dilated even further, his grip tightening on your waist involuntarily.
“I—uh,” he breathed out, his voice almost breaking, eyes darting away as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze. But you didn’t let him retreat. You shifted slightly, pressing your soft breasts more firmly against his chest. His gaze flickered back to your cleavage.
“Come on, I bet you did. I bet you… enjoyed them.” You let the implication linger. “Didn’t you?
His eyes fluttered close. Enjoyed felt too innocent for what he'd felt, what he'd done. He didn't just enjoy those photos—he devoured them. He touched himself, imagining you sprawled in front of him in that same pose. He fantasized about you, dreamt of your pretty face, the sultry look in your eyes, the way those cute bunny ears framed your hair but left everything else bare.
He grew even more painfully hard at the thought, and you could feel his his arousal pressed against your hip. A soft laugh escaped your lips.
"Spencer,” you cooed, his name rolling off your tongue effortlessly. "What ever are you thinking?"
He tried to shift away.
“I-I’m not—” he started, but every word he tried to speak died on his lips the moment your hand brushed against his stomach. He felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs.
“You’re not?” You let your fingers trail down his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch, before drifting even lower. “Because it seems like you've got something on your mind. Or..."
Your fingers passed over his belt buckle, grazing the edge of his waistband.
“Somewhere..."
You hovered over his bulge.
“…else."
Without hesitation, you palmed his erection, feeling the full hardness straining against the fabric. He sucked in a sharp breath. “W-What are you—”
You brought your lips to the shell of his ear, letting your breath tickle his skin. “I think you know what I'm doing."
Spencer's eyes glanced to the side, as if anyone might appear around the corner at any second, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. Not when your hand was moving slowly along his length.
“We… we can’t,” he managed to choke out. “Someone could—could see us."
“Hmm? Should I stop then?” You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes. “Do you want me to stop, Spencer?”
The hesitation in his eyes was unmistakable, but so was the desperation. Brown orbs stared helplessly back at you. He couldn’t bring himself to say yes when every part of him screamed no. So he opted for silence, hoping that his lack of protest would tell you everything he couldn’t put into words.
You understood him clearly, so you pressed your hand more firmly on his bulge, fingers teasing the sensitive outline through his pants. The shape of him grew even more defined as you moved slowly, teasingly, with just enough pressure to make him gasp.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?”
His grip on your waist tightened.
“Y-yes,” he managed to breathe out, eyes half-closed as he gave himself over to the sensation.
"I bet I can make you feel even better.”
Without breaking eye contact, you began to sink slowly to your knees, hands sliding down his body. You let your fingers trace down his hips as you came face to face with the unmistakable outline of his arousal, your gaze still locked on his as a smirk danced on your lips.
An IQ of 187 was hardly enough to process what was happening now. Every neuron in his brain fired wildly, trying to make sense of the rush of sensations, the heat of your touch, the intensity in your eyes.
How was this even real?
You let your lips hover for a moment, teasing him with the anticipation before you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his cock. He let out a muffled cry.
“Shh,” you whispered soothingly, your fingers working at the straps of his belt. The metallic clink of the buckle was faint as you loosened it, pulling it free with a soft hiss of leather. “We don’t want anyone to hear us, do we?”
Your fingers brushed against his waistband, eyes looking up at him all doe-eyed, wide and innocent, though everything about your touch was far from it.
He was going crazy. You looked so sexy, so pretty, yet so impossibly cute in that moment, like the very picture of temptation wrapped in innocence. His mind couldn’t help but flicker back to those pictures—the pictures—where you wore nothing but those bunny ears, your gaze so similar to the one you were giving him now.
He watched as you slowly peeled down the fabric, and found himself holding his breath. The cool air met his hot skin as his cock sprang free, and for a second, he couldn’t breathe.
Because Spencer knew he was different. He wasn’t like the other men you’d surely encountered, who knew their way around a woman like you, who were confident, who didn’t hesitate. And then there was the matter of size. He couldn’t help the thoughts rushing through his mind, wondering if you’d find him lacking, if he measured up to whatever experiences had shaped you into the woman that knelt before him now.
But a smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you wrapped your hand around his cock.
“You’re so…” You let out a small, appreciative laugh, your thumb brushing over his tip. “God, everything about you is cute, isn’t it?”
Spencer struggled to steady his breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts as your touch made it impossible to think clearly. You leaned closer, eyes still locked on his, and your tongue darted out to give a teasing kitten-lick along the base of his cock.
“Not too big,” you teased, dragging your tongue up the underside, tracing every ridge.
“Not too small…”
You let your tongue travel upward until you reached the tip, where you sucked gently, swirling your tongue around him in circles that had his legs shaking.
“You’ll fit perfectly.”
A pained groan fell through his lips. “Fit… where?”
You let go with a wet pop, his cock twitching as the cool air replaced the warmth of your mouth. Holding his gaze, you let your fingers move to your blouse, slowly undoing the buttons one by one. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you staring.”
Then in one sudden, fluid motion, you tugged your bra down, letting your breasts spill free. The movement made them bounce slightly, the soft curve of your flesh catching the light, and Spencer’s eyes went wide.
His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out, just a strangled groan as his cock twitched visibly. The sight of you was too much for him to bear. He couldn’t decide where to look, his gaze flickering between your breasts and your face, like he was afraid to miss a single second of this moment. He followed your movement with wide, hungry eyes as you wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, guiding him to your chest.
“See?” you teased, pressing his length firmly between the soft, warm flesh of your breasts. “Perfect fit.”
His pupils dilated with full-blown lust as you started to move, slowly at first, letting him feel every inch of your warm, soft flesh sliding around his cock. You squeezed your breasts tighter together, the pressure creating a delicious friction that had him biting back a groan, his eyes glued to the way he disappeared and reappeared between your curves.
Up. Down. Up. Down. The head of his cock glistened as it emerged at the top again, only to slide back down into your cleavage, leaving a hot, wet trail along your skin.
“God… oh god,” Spencer choked out, his voice strained as his hips bucked slightly with each thrust. His eyes squeezed shut briefly, only to flutter back open as if afraid to miss a second of what was happening. His mind was a mess of disjointed thoughts, desperately trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before him. But all rationality was drowned out by the way you moved, the soft squeeze of your breasts around him, and the warm, slick glide of your sweat-kissed skin against his length.
He felt himself spiraling, the pleasure climbing higher, and all he could think was how good you looked, how perfect it felt, and how badly he wanted to paint his cum all over your face.
“Look at you all worked up.” You leaned forward slightly, letting the tip of his cock brush against your lips as it emerged, just the barest whisper of a touch. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”
His fingers dug even deeper into the shelf, nails scraping against the wood. His voice was raw, almost desperate, as he let out a strained, “Please.”
With a satisfied smile, you lowered your head just enough to let your tongue flick out, circling around the head of his cock as it emerged from between your breasts, tasting the salty-sweet bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips slammed forward.
“Mm,” you hummed softly. “You wanna use me now, Spencer? Is that what you want?”
His grip on the shelf finally faltered, and you could hear the whimper in his throat, the way he bit down on his lip to keep from making a sound that would echo in the library. “Yes,” he gasped. “Please, I… I need to…”
“Go on,” you coaxed him, squeezing your breasts tighter around his length. “If you want it, take it. Use me.”
The moment those words left your lips, his hips jerked forward. The movement was sharp, desperate, and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He fucked himself into the tight, slick warmth of your breasts. He stammered incoherently, half-formed words falling from his lips, barely audible over the sounds of his ragged breaths and muffled whimpers.
“Please, I—I can’t… I can’t—oh god…”
He finally snapped, his body trembling violently as the sensation ripped through him, the pressure too intense, too overwhelming. His hips bucked wildly, thrusting desperately into the warmth of your body, lost in the heat, in the wetness, in the need to let go completely—
And then, everything vanished in an instant.
He jolted awake, eyes snapping open, his chest heaving as he took in his surroundings. No longer surrounded by warmth, no longer on the brink of release. Just the quiet stillness of his bedroom, sweat beading on his forehead, heart pounding in his chest, sheets tangled around his body… and the magazine lay open beside him, your image staring back at him mockingly.
Bunny ears perched on your head, delicate breasts spilling over, legs spread wide apart.
It took a few seconds for Spencer to catch his breath. He glanced down at himself, his eyes trailing to his painfully hard arousal, noticing the wetness seeping through his boxers and sticking to his skin. The rush of disappointment and adrenaline twisted sharply in his chest as reality hit him.
It was just a dream.
An embarrassing, all-consuming, impossible dream.
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truth serum
🌙 starring. Choi Seungcheol x afab!Reader
🔮 preview. When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.
tw/cw. Seungcheol gets truth-serumed and a little beat up, unprotected sex, dirty talk, dominant Seungcheol, power dynamics, praise, one hint of degradation that’s quickly squashed, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral, foreplay in the kitchen, bdsm subthemes, spanking as a punishment, pain kink, multiple reader orgasms, creampie/fullness kink, etc… I pet names: (hers) honey. (his) angel eyes.
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 6.6k
🍭 aus. Secret agent au, handler reader, coworker au, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. Thank you for being patient with me this month on my svt posting for June! My birthday is on the 25th and your smiley has been busy- so grateful I could get this out, even without a teaser post :) I don't know anything about actual secret agents, but this was a fun fanfic idea I had and I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did :)
“I’m just going to go talk to her.”
You hate how nonchalant Seungcheol sounds, hate how easily he can be swayed by pretty women, even while out on jobs. It’s your responsibility to keep him in check, the little angel on his shoulder, and in his ear. “Don’t do it,” you warn him.
“Her husband’s the target, from what I’ve seen, she’s harmless,” the agent counters.
“How easily swayed you are by pretty women, and need I remind you this isn’t the first time you’ve let a person of interest’s wife become your focus.”
“Careful, Honey, for a moment there it sounded like you were jealous.”
You’re watching Seungcheol through the casino’s live footage, a stream you’d easily hacked for the operation at hand. He’s leaning against the bar, all suave in dress pants and a white button-up that he’s left open just enough to show his prominent chest-
“That’s your third drink,” you note, changing the topic, “don’t let it cloud your judgment, Angel Eyes.”
“We both know I can hold my liquor,” Seungcheol insists, raising his glass and sending a wink toward the camera before he downs the Old Fashioned. “I’m just going to go talk to her, she could give good intel.”
You let out a deep sigh. Sometimes, being Seungcheol’s handler can be a pain in the ass. Does he ever listen to you? Not usually. Does he get the job done, though? Most of the time.
“Trust me,” Seungcheol says, voice lowering. “I’m not going to do what you think I’m going to do.”
You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair while you scan the screens in front of you. “Seduce her James Bond style and compromise this entire thing?”
“Maybe only half of that.”
God, he’s such a womanizer, but with a face like his, and the perks that come with his job, he can afford to be.
“If this goes sideways, don’t expect me to bail you out of it.” you warn him.
“Honey, bailing me out is your job.”
You hate it when Seungcheol goes out of your visuals, and entering a hotel room with a target’s wife was not on the itinerary tonight. For the first ten minutes, you’d sat anxiously, listening in on his smooth-talking, when the woman had suggested they take things to the bedroom, part of you had wondered if you should call this whole thing off and let Seungcheol do what he always does: fuck the hot wife and sort things out later.
But when you hear a male voice, and a startled, “Who is this?” from Seungcheol, you’re glad you’d stayed anxiously glued to your computer.
A faint, “Friend of my husband,” said in a nonchalant female tone, sets you off immediately, and you’re grabbing your phone to get backup support before you can even think.
You try to take deep breaths while you listen to what sounds like a fight taking place on Seungcheol’s end, and suddenly, the wire goes dead. Now, there are no sounds, only the racing of your own heart and the blood rushing through you.
“What’s going on?” Your supervisor's voice makes you jump, and you turn to see Jeonghan standing there with Hansol, another handler.
“Cheol made a move on his target’s wife, went back to her room, but the wife brought friends. The wire is dead.”
“Fuck,” Jeonghan groans, “This is the third time this has happened to him.”
“I tried reminding him of that,” you say, your voice raising with anxiety.
Hansol offers you a sympathetic hand on your shoulder. He takes care of an agent named Seungkwan, and while Seungkwan gets into his own messes, he’s not the type to go after married women in the middle of a job.
Jeonghan’s leaning over your computer now, and he brings up the map tracker you have on Seungcheol. “I’m sending this location to another agent we have in the area,” he tells you, quickly taking the reigns of the fuck up that’s just happened.
“It’s Wonwoo, isn’t it?” you sigh. “It’s always Wonwoo cleaning up Seungcheol’s messes.”
“Yes, it’s Wonwoo,” Jeonghan admits. “We made sure he’d be in the wings tonight in case something like this happened.”
“God, this isn’t good-” you groan.
“No,” Jeonghan responds, “It’s not. After tonight I’ll have to have a serious talk with Seungcheol, and a serious talk with you about reassignment if we decide Seungcheol is a liability.”
Your heart lurches in your chest.
When you’d taken this job as a handler, it hadn’t been a babysitting gig. You’d signed on to work with Seungcheol because he was supposed to be one of the best agents… supposed to be. There’d been a time, three months ago, when he’d completed a job with flying colors. The two of you had celebrated at a hotel in Paris after the success, and after two bottles of champagne, you’d actually thought you were starting to get to know the guy. But whatever inklings of a gentleman you’d seen that night had disappeared soon after, and things have been up in the air ever since. His man whoring ways are at an all-time high, and his judgment has been questionable, to say the least. Now he’s gone and gotten himself captured, and you can’t help but fear the worst.
After a harrowing two hours, you find yourself in the med section of the agency compound. Wonwoo is stationed outside of Seungcheol’s room, and he stands straighter as you approach. “Hey, Honey,” he says, using your codename even though there’s really no reason for it right now.
“Wonwoo- how is he?” You anxiously look toward the door Wonwoo is guarding with his body.
Although you’d been connected to the whole ‘rescue Seungcheol operation,’ you’re still buzzing with anxiety. It’s unexplainable, and definitely bordering on unacceptable given the line of work you’re in, but damn it, you can’t help but care for the man you handle every day.
“Jeonghan’s with him right now,” Wonwoo responds smoothly.
Your heart thunders even louder in your ribcage. Jeonghan had mentioned Seungcheol being a liability- is he getting fired right now?
Part of you aches to be with him, to defend his stupid behaviour- but you know it’s not your place, besides, what would you even say? You’d told Seungcheol not to go after the target’s wife, and he’d done it anyway, which shows a lack of regard for handler instructions.
Seungcheol has become a liability, and you hate that things have come to this.
“What do you think is going to happen?” you ask.
Wonwoo shrugs. “That’s above my paygrade.”
He’s awfully stoic, even for a spy, and while it can be intriguing at times, right now, his deflections only frustrate you more.
You let out a sigh. “What if I asked you to guess what’s going to happen?”
Wonwoo looks at you for a moment. “I’d guess Seungcheol will be put on a break.”
“A break,” you repeat. “Like… a permanent one?”
The spy can only shrug again, a nonchalant motion that’s way too disinterested for your liking.
Jeonghan’s been trying to talk you into working as Wonwoo’s handler for a while now, and although you know Wonwoo would be much less of a hassle than Seungcheol, you can’t bare to tear yourself away from the spy whose messes you’ve been helping clean up for over a year.
Despite Seungcheol’s massive ego, and his magnetic attraction toward trouble, there’s something about him that makes you want to care for him. Sure, he never listens, especially when you give him advice about women, but Seungcheol has a certain something about him- something that you won’t give up easily.
Before you can talk further with Wonwoo, the med room door opens and Jeonghan steps out. He lets out a deep sigh, crossing his arms over his chest.
You hold your breath, waiting for your boss to give you instructions.
“This is a shit show,” Jeonghan says finally.
Neither you nor Wonwoo verbally agree with him, but brief eyecontact between the two of you makes it known what you’re both thinking.
Jeonghan addresses you next. “I’m guessing you want to go in there and talk to him.”
You can only nod.
“Look, it might not be the best idea, but fuck it.” Jeonghan uncrosses his arms, looking at you with a steady expression. “They gave Seungcheol some kind of truth serum. I don’t know how long it will be in effect, but I do know he’s vulnerable right now. I probably shouldn’t let you in there- but… I’m just going to walk down the hall to get a coffee, and if you happen to slip through the door then so be it. I didn’t see anything, and since Wonwoo is coming with me, he didn’t either.”
You stare in shock for a moment, unsure what to say. There’s nothing to be said, and when Jeonghan dispurses, Wonwoo is quick to follow.
You turn to the door, and after a deep breath, you slip inside the med room.
Seungcheol is lying in a hospital bed. His lip is battered and there’s a blossoming purple bruise around his left brow, but other than that, he looks remarkably well.
“Honey?” He sits up when you enter, eyes widening in shock.
“Cheol-” Your voice cracks as you take the seat next to the bed, and while part of you wants to reach for his hand, you hold yourself back.
“I’m sorry,” he says immediately, and those are two words you’ve never heard from him before. “You were right… about the wife.”
“That’s not important right now,” you sigh.
“It is. You’re my handler, and I didn’t listen to you, and that was wrong. If I had listened, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”
You study him. You know he’s vulnerable, Jeonghan said as much, and with a truth serum impeding his ability to lie or evade questions, you want to be careful- but you also want answers, answers that you can only truly get right now.
“Why’d you do it?” you ask finally. “This time, and all the other times. You always go after the women, and I thought it was because you found it easy- seduction is what you’re good at, but- I don’t understand how you don’t see how dangerous it is.”
“Honey-”
“They’re thinking about reassigning me to Wonwoo, and before that happens, I just need to know why, Cheol. When you have the potential to be the best agent in this company, why are you always so ready to jump ship and fuck any rich married woman even though you know it will fuck everything up?”
“They can’t reassign you to Wonwoo!” Seungcheol sits up abruptly, and the heart rate monitor next to him beeps a sign of warning at his increasing pulse.
“They can do whatever they want, you should be worried about your own job. You don’t even listen to me as your handler half the time, maybe you should be with someone you actually respect.”
“I respect you,” Seungcheol blurts out.
“It doesn’t feel like you do.”
“I do,” he insists. “I-” Seungcheol’s voice cracks. “I get with women to distract myself.”
“Distractions in this line of work can be fatal.”
“You think I don’t know that?” he snaps, making you go silent. “Maybe I have a death wish.”
“Cheol-”
“Stop calling me Cheol.”
“Stop calling me Honey.”
“No.”
You glare at him, anger bubbling and inspiring you to dive deeper into your questioning, despite the fact that you know this isn’t a morally good idea. “Why do you need a distraction?”
“Because you’re a distraction. Your voice in my ear- it distracts me.”
“Maybe reassignment is a good idea.”
“You’re not being reassigned.” Seungcheol’s voice is practically a growl, and you’ve never seen this side of him.
“Why not?”
His expression breaks. “Because I need you.”
“You clearly don’t.”
“I do,” he insists. “I know I’m not good at showing it- but I do, I need you.”
“Cheol-”
“Honey.”
“Tell me why.”
“Because-” Seungcheol lets out a sigh, and he punches at the hospital bed. “Look, I’m scared, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“Scared of what?”
“Of falling for you.”
“Huh?” Now you’re confused. You’re staring at this lady killer agent, the sexiest man you’ve ever met, and you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “But- all the women you go after-”
“Distractions from you, from the voice in my head.” Seungcheol swallows thickly. “That night in Paris…”
Your heart lurches in your chest, and you hold your breath for the next words about to leave him.
“That night- fuck, I’ve never met someone like you before. I’ve never felt-” he bites at his lip, and you wince, knowing it must hurt to put pressure on the wound there. “I got with those other women to try to convince myself that I didn’t need you. I didn’t need your guidance, I didn’t need your care, I didn’t need you- but… I do need you.” Seungcheol meets your gaze. “I’ve needed you more than I’ve ever needed anyone, and it scares me.”
Aside from the heart rate monitor beeping through the room, you swear you could hear a pin drop as you stare at Seungcheol, trying to register everything he’s just said.
“I-”
“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” Seungcheol says. “How do you feel about me?”
“I think…” You swallow thickly. “I never understood why I stayed working with you after everything, but… maybe I understand now. Maybe I need you too.”
“Maybe?” Seungcheol flashes you a sexy smirk, and it makes you look away, hating how he makes you feel, hating how inappropriate this whole thing is.
“I’m definitely going to have to be reassigned now,” you tell him.
“What? Why?”
“You know why. This,” you point between the two of you, “this has been the liability the whole time. We’re the liability, Cheol.”
He sits and thinks about it for a moment. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” You let out a laugh.
“Just… don’t work with Wonwoo, okay?”
“Why not?” You can’t help but laugh at the request.
“Because I think he’s into you.”
“Wouldn’t be the first,” you tease, standing up so you can sit on the bed, wanting to be closer to Seungcheol. “Besides,” you pinch at his chin, inspecting the wounds on his face, “Wonwoo might actually listen to me.”
“Honey,” Seungcheol slaps your hand away, instead grabbing at the back of your neck to bring your lips dangerously close to his, “don’t test me right now.”
“Or what?”
He lets out a shaky breath, his gaze dipping down to your lips. “Jeonghan’s putting me on a two-week mental health break or some shit, this isn’t even a question of ‘or what’ anymore. While I’m on leave, I’m going to fuck you stupid. I’m going to make it so you can’t even leave the fucking bed. I’m going to show you that I’m not the kind of man who receives instructions, I give them. Think you can handle it?”
God, your core is throbbing from his words alone, and you can’t muster up any for yourself. You can only nod, staring at the beautiful, bruised, stubborn man in front of you.
“You should get out of here before I bend you over this fucking bed and get us both fired.” Seungcheol releases you, leaning back to put distance between your lips.
“Do you think you’ll be released tonight?” you ask, voice quiet.
“Are you that eager to see what I’m made of, honey?” Seungcheol lets out a laugh.
“Maybe.”
“Yes, I think I’ll be out of here soon, after this stupid serum wears off. You know, this whole interrogating me while I’m vulnerable thing isn’t going to go unpunished.”
“I hope you do your worst,” you challenge him.
The agent scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.”
“Hypocrite,” you grin, standing and heading to the door. “Call me when you’re out, then you can take me home.”
You’re waiting by Seungcheol’s car in the parking garage when he comes out of the elevator. He’s dressed in black dress pants and the same white button-up he’d been wearing hours earlier. The collar is speckled with blood, the buttons undone to reveal his broad chest- his suit jacket is held in a fist, and he’s never looked sexier.
He doesn’t say anything as he approaches, closing the distance between the two of you. His hand finds your cheek, and his eyes stare into your own, your lips only inches apart. Then, he’s kissing you for the first time, a desperate, needy kiss that sets your entire body on fire.
You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pressing your chest flush to his own. Your mouth opens instinctively, accepting the tongue that strokes by your teeth.
Seungcheol’s hand moves down to your ass, and he squeezes you roughly, pushing you back against the black jeep wrangler he’s been driving recently. The motion has you moaning against his lips, and Seungcheol breaks the kiss with a grin. His forehead rests against your own, and you both struggle to catch your breath.
“Been wanting to do that for a long time,” he tells you.
“Me too,” you admit, swallowing thickly. “So… your place?”
“My place,” he confirms, reaching behind you to open the door to his car. He grabs your hand to help you up into the tanked-out jeep, then gently shuts the door behind you.
Your heart is racing. You can’t believe you’re actually doing this.
A couple of hours ago, you’d feared the worst, and now, you desperately need good, dirty, wet sex with Seungcheol to take your mind off the anxiety that’s still coursing through you.
“So,” you clear your throat as he pulls out of the parking garage, “did you talk to Jeonghan?”
Seungcheol laughs, reaching to hold your hand while he drives. “Yes, I talked to Jeonghan.”
“Did you mention me?”
“I mentioned you a lot. Mentioned you the first time he came in to talk. He asked the same kinds of questions you did, turns out you’re the only one who was completely oblivious to the way I felt about you.”
“Well… I mean… you’re the agent, not me. Figuring out secrets is your job, I just do handler stuff.” Your skin heats at the idea that others saw his affection for you, but you’d been so blind.
“He agrees that this thing between us, whatever it is, it’s the liability, not either of us alone. He’s putting me on rest, like I said, and when you’re up for it, he’d like to reassign you to some new hire, this wizz kid named Dino or something.”
Although you know reassignment is the best thing in this situation, it doesn’t make it hurt any less. Can you really trust someone else to be Seungcheol’s handler? God, you’re feeling downright territorial of this man already-
“Yeah, I’m not too happy about it either,” Seungcheol sighs, rubbing his thumb along your hand. “Some new kid getting you in his ear- he better not fall in love with you.”
“Did you fall in love with me?” you ask.
“Truth serum has worn off, honey,” Seungcheol grins, grinning and bringing your hand to his lips. “But yes, as cliche and stupid as it sounds, I did. And don’t worry, you don’t have to say it back, I know you were all hot and bothered by me too.”
You scoff loudly.
“What was it you said earlier? I ‘find seduction easy’? Don’t pretend we’re not in the same boat here, honey.”
“God, I hate you.” You try to tear your hand away from him but he’s unrelenting.
“Liar. You love me. Love me so much you’re going to let me rearrange your guts.”
“Don’t be so vulgar,” you chastise him.
Seungcheol casts you a sideways glance. “You’re not my handler anymore, you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
Your pussy throbs at his words. The dynamic between the two of you has always been a push-pull. You were supposed to be the one giving orders, but it never felt… correct. You’d bet your life that soon, when Seungcheol has you pressed to his bed, whispering all sorts of dirty commands in your ear- well, you have no doubts that will feel more natural.
“As dominant as you like to pretend you are as a handler, I think we both know you’d rather be the submissive,” Seungcheol points out. “I can’t wait to see how good you’ll be for me.”
“Cheol-”
“Look at you, honey, a little dirty talk and you’re already a blabbering mess. Can’t find the words, can you?”
“Fuck.”
“You’re adorable,” he grins, shaking his head a little. “You’ll be good for me, I know you will be.”
You’re kissing Cheol the moment you get into his penthouse- or… is he kissing you? It’s hard to tell who moved first, all you know is that one thing leads to another and suddenly he’s hoisting you onto a kitchen counter, his hands already unbuttoning your pants.
You break your heated kiss to take a breath, looking up at the ceiling while he quickly attaches his lips to your neck. “Cheol- this is going a bit fast.”
“Is it?” He tugs your pants down, grinning against your throat. “Do you want me to slow down?”
His thumb finds your clit through your panties and you let out a whimper, clinging onto his strong shoulders.
You can’t even think right now, especially not when he begins to draw small circles against your sensitive bud, pulling away from you so he can watch your face. You open your eyes to look at him, loving the intensity in his expression.
“Tell me to slow down,” he says.
You take a breath, trying to process his words. They’d sounded like a command, so, begrudgingly, you whisper, “Slow down.”
“Too bad, I don’t listen to what you tell me to do, remember?”
He’s such a shit-
A shit that gets onto his knees to immediately burry his face between your thighs, tugging your panties to the side roughly so his tongue can make direct contact with your already throbbing pussy.
“Fuck, Cheol-” you whimper loudly, threading your fingers through his silky dark hair, your legs already shaking around his head.
“Been thinking about what you’d taste like,” Seungcheol muses, pressing a sloppy kiss to your inner thigh. “Knew your pussy would be perfect for me.”
God, his words are getting to you, your mind completely blank of a comeback as Seungcheol dives back into his task, his lips wrapping harshly around your clit.
All you can do is gasp and whine for him, writhing on his kitchen counter while he works you closer and closer to an orgasm with his tongue alone.
When he pulls away to drag two fingers up your slit, your body tenses in anticipation.
“Relax,” Seungcheol chuckles, looking up at you with that handsome grin of his, “It’s only me, honey. You’re comfortable with me…” he pushes his digits into your core, cocking a brow, “right?”
“Yes, fuck-”
“Yes, what?” He crooks his fingers, hitting your gspot and making you cry out.
“Yes, I’m comfortable with you!” you belt out, falling back onto the table so you don’t have to hold yourself up anymore. You want to feel everything he’s giving you- want him to have your full focus.
“Good girl. I think you deserve a reward for admitting that, don’t you?”
You can feel Seungcheol’s breath on your clit while he pumps his fingers, abusing the sweet spot that already has you close to the edge.
“Yeah, yes- I deserve a reward-”
Seungcheol pulls away abruptly, landing a slap to your pussy that has you squealing, your thighs closing around his hand. Your eyes snap open and you stare at him in shock.
“That sounded like a command, honey,” Seungcheol says, prying your legs apart. “Thought we agreed I’d be in charge tonight, and you know I hate being told what to do.”
“I-” you swallow thickly. “Please? Please let me cum?”
“Let you cum?” he taunts, thumb finding your clit but not applying nearly enough pressure.
“Please… make me cum?” you suggest, wanting - more than anything - to say the right thing for him.
“Because you asked so nicely.” Seungcheol flashes you a wink, and then his fingers are slipping into your wet core again, picking up where he left off. His lips return to your clit, which is practically buzzing from the slap, and before you even know it, he has you at the edge.
“Please make me cum,” you whimper desperately. “Fuck, I’m so close- please make me cum, I’ve tried to be a good girl for you- please-”
He hums a sound of confirmation, and the buzzing vibration on your clit is enough to get you there. Your pussy clamps down hard on his fingers, your back arching as waves of pleasure surge through you. Your toes curl against his broad shoulders, sounds leaving you uncensored as you fill his apartment with cries of relief.
You’re throbbing, your pussy practically dripping at this point, but Seungcheol doesn’t let up. Even when you tug on his hair to try to pull him away, he refuses to move. He finger fucks you and sucks on your clit, ignoring the way your thighs close around him, working you through your high all the way until the end.
Seungcheol finally relents when your pussy stops contracting around him, and you let out a massive sigh when he pulls away. You can feel his eyes on you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him yet, not when you’re still feeling the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm.
You feel him begin to unbutton your shirt and his lips find the swell of your breasts as soon as it’s open. He’s soft in his kisses, gentle, tender even. “Have you come back down to earth yet, honey?” he asks, nuzzling up to your throat.
“Yeah- that was just, really good,” you let out a small laugh, threading your fingers through his hair to keep him tucked to your chest.
“That was just the appetizer, you still haven’t had the main course.”
“God, you’re so-”
“So what?” he teases. “Handsome? Charming? Lovable?”
“Sure of yourself,” you breathe.
“Let me show you something,” he prompts, reaching for your hand. He pulls away from your chest to stand up straight again, guiding your fingers to the front of his pants. His cock is straining against the fabric, and you open your eyes to see Seungcheol grinning when you gasp at how large he is. “When a man has a cock like mine, he can afford to be sure of himself.”
You shiver at his words, and it makes Seungcheol laugh. “Come on, let me take you to bed.”
He hauls you up before throwing you over his shoulder, landing a gentle spank on your ass.
“Remember when I told you I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t even be able to leave the bed?” Seungcheol prompts as he tosses you onto the mattress. “You better get comfy, honey.”
“I think…” you feel your daring side beginning to surface, eyes dipping to watch Seungcheol’s skilled fingers unbuttoning his dress shirt, “I think I also remember something about you telling me my truth serum interrogation wouldn’t go unpunished.”
The agent pauses, a huge grin spreading across his face. “You’re cute, honey.”
“Yeah?” You reach behind your body, undoing the clasp of your bra and letting it slip to the wayside. “How so?”
Seungcheol’s pupils dilate, his eyes becoming dark, lustful pools.
He doesn’t bother to answer your question, shrugging his shirt off before leaning over you, his hands pressing into the bed to box you in while his lips find yours. It’s a needy kiss, his tongue gliding out to meet your own, but you don’t mind at all.
You cup his face, moaning against him, fingers teasing over his strong shoulders.
Seungcheol is built, even for an agent. Certain men who work with you have leaner physiques, and Seungcheol is not one of them. He’s all big and broad, with lines of muscle that you could trace for hours if given the chance.
His lips begin to trail down to your throat, and you let out a whimper of anticipation when his breath fans across your pebbled nipples.
However, when he gets to your breasts, Seungcheol avoids sucking on the most sensitive spots. He looks up at you, grinning. “I think it’s time for that punishment now.”
“Yeah?” You can’t help the excitement that bubbles through you.
“I want you on your knees, ass up, and take off your panties while you’re at it.”
You know what’s coming when you follow through with the command. The cool air in the room feels nice on your newly exposed, hot core, and you make a show of everything, arching your back.
You can hear Seungcheol let out a deep breath, his hands ghosting over your ass.
“If this hurts too much, let me know.”
“Do your worst,” you counter, wiggling your hips and resting your face against the bed sheets, exhaling deeply in preparation.
You expect a harsh smack, but instead, Seungcheol presses a soft kiss to your right cheek. “I’m punishing you because you took advantage, you know that, right?”
“Uh huh, part of me knew I was being bad interrogating you while you were truth-serumed, but part of me needed to know what your answers would be.”
“Between us, I’m glad you asked the questions you did, or you might not be in my bed right now.”
“I’m glad too,” you confess. “Now, come on Angel Eyes, punish me.”
“I love a woman who takes what she deserves with grace.”
“After this, I deserve your cock.”
“Do you now?” Seungcheol lets out an amused chuckle, grabbing your ass with both hands and squeezing.
“Maybe you deserve my pussy,” you muse thoughtfully.
“Now that’s something I can definitely get behind,” he agrees. “Count these out for me, honey, I’ll give you ten.”
The first smack makes you recoil in surprise, the sound flooding your senses before the sharp pain that blossoms across your skin.
“One,” you announce, balling your hands into the bed sheets.
“How did that feel?” he asks, gently smoothing his palm across the still-burning flesh.
“Good.”
The next hit is a little harder and it makes you whimper, but you do your best to stay steady, unmoving, ready to take what you deserve. “Two.”
Three and four come on your other cheek, and you’re thankful for the reprieve, but smack number five returns to the first side he’d battered, and it stings even more now. However, it’s a pleasantly hot sensation, and your core throbs knowing you’re halfway through your punishment, all the more close to your reward.
“You look like you’re enjoying this too much,” Seungcheol muses, groping your ass again, squeezing hard enough to hurt.
“Maybe I am,” you tell him, looking over your shoulder at the agent.
He grins down at you, lifting a hand- your body flinches involuntarily, and Seungcheol’s smile widens. “Getting sensitive already, huh?”
“Yes,” you admit.
The next slap lands on your pussy, something you hadn’t been expecting, and a squeal of delight erupts out of you at the sensation on your clit.
“You liked that, didn’t you?” Seungcheol asks.
“Uh huh,” you nod, clenching the bed sheets even tighter.
“How's your clit feeling after one orgasm?” he prompts, thumb finding the sensitive bud and rubbing it in small circles.
“Feels so good,” you whimper.
“You’re practically dripping, honey, didn’t take you for a pain slut.”
“Be nice,” you chastise him.
“Oh?”
Another smack lands on your ass and you dutifully call out “Six.”
“You don’t like being called a little pain slut?” he asks.
“No,” you shake your head. “Please call me nice things.”
“Okay, honey, I can do that,” he concedes, and the next spank isn’t as hard as the last. “You’re being so good for me. We’re almost done.”
“Can’t wait for you to fuck me, I’ve been waiting so long-”
“We’ll get there,” Seungcheol promises, leaning down to press a kiss to your lower back. When he pulls away, number “Eight” comes quickly thereafter.
Your skin is buzzing with anticipation now, and you’re nearly writhing against the bed, but you do your best to be as still as possible while Seungcheol completes this punishment focused foreplay.
After smack number nine, you hear Seungcheol undo his belt, and it takes everything inside of you not to turn around and get a good look at his cock.
He smacks his length gently against your ass, and you let out a small, “Ten?”
He laughs. “No, honey, this is ten.”
The sound of the slap echoes through his room, the hardest of them all so far, and you release a strangled cry, your ass on fire from where he’d hit you.
“That was the pain, now here’s the pleasure.” He rubs his cock through your wet folds, and slips the tip inside, stretching you out wonderfully. The sensation distracts from your sore bum, and your whimper becomes a moan as he drives deeper and deeper into you. “Tell me you like it.”
“I love it,” you blurt, already pushing back toward him in an effort to feel everything.
You’re not sure how big he is, only that he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with, but after the tension of your punishment, and the orgasm before that, your pussy greedily swallows up everything he has to give until he’s flush to your still stinging ass.
“Fuck,” Seungcheol cusses, gently grabbing at your hips. “How’s that feel?”
“I feel so full,” you tell him, pussy fluttering around his cock.
“I’ll make you feel fuller,” he promises.
“Yeah?”
“You’re on birth control?”
“Uh huh.”
“Then I’ll definitely fill you up, mark this pussy as all mine, are you okay with that?”
“More than okay with it,” you moan.
“That’s my good girl,” Seungcheol praises you, beginning to thrust.
“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the feeling of his cock dragging along your inner walls.
Your eyes are closed, your focus entirely on Seungcheol as he starts to fuck you, rougher and rougher until his balls are slapping against your clit with each motion.
“Your pussy feels so good,” he tells you, grip tightening on your hips. “It’s like you were made for me, honey.”
The idea causes a visceral reaction, your entire body thrumming with pleasure. You can only moan in response, beginning to move back so you can meet each one of his thrusts.
“And this ass-” One of Seungcheol’s hands moves to cup your sensitive flesh, making you groan even louder. “Fucking perfect. Rub your clit for me, want you to cum again.”
Your hand is shaky as you bring it between your legs, finding your sensitive clit. Your core clenches desperately around Seungcheol and he lets out a deep moan of appreciation.
“That’s my good girl, being so good for me. So good at taking orders.”
You can’t help but let out a small laugh. It’s as if things were always meant to be this way, you were meant to let him be in control, not the other way around. This feels so much more natural than you telling him what to do ever did.
“Don’t laugh,” Seungcheol chastises you, fucking you even harder. “I’m trying to be nice to you, like you wanted.”
“I just-” you groan when his cock slams into your gspot. “It was never supposed to be me telling you what to do.”
“I’m glad we agree on something,” Seungcheol muses, his motions slowing ever so slightly. “Fuck this, I want to see you.”
He pulls out of your pussy, flipping you onto your back. The contact of the bed against your ass makes you groan, but the sight of Seungcheol’s perfect body looming over you has you distracted less than a moment later.
His cock is big… cut, curving slightly to the left, with a prominent vein that you want to trace with your tongue-
He presses the head of his length to your pussy, easing himself into you while he positions you in missionary. When he’s fully inside of you again, he meets your gaze, then he looks down at your lips.
“You’re so pretty like this,” he whispers before pressing his mouth to yours.
You grab at his strong shoulders, getting lost in the kiss as he begins to fuck you again, the whole bed shaking with the power of his thrusts.
You’ve never made sounds like this in bed before. You’re moaning like a whore, but Seungcheol eats up every whimper, his tongue gliding against your own.
Your fingers thread through his hair, keeping him close as he fucks you closer and closer to the edge.
The agent pulls away, breathing heavily. “I can feel you clenching, honey, gonna cum again?”
“Gonna cum on your big cock,” you tell him.
“Yeah?”
One of his hands slips between your bodies, fingers applying pressure to your clit.
You whimper loudly, back arching off the bed. Seungcheol takes the opportunity to finally draw your nipple into his mouth, his teeth grazing over the sensitive bud.
You gasp, body on fire from all the wonderful sensations. “I’m so close-” you tell him.
“Then cum for me,” he murmurs, rubbing your clit even harder. “Cum on my cock.”
It only takes a few more seconds for you to follow through with his command, the cord snapping in your stomach as your release takes over. Your pussy clamps down on Seungcheol, and when he lets out a groan, you know your body is milking him for every drop of cum that he has.
His thrusts have become sloppier, more erratic, deeper- and each one has him kissing your cervix, which is a delightful feeling.
You hold him to your breast through your high, and he diligently sucks on your nipple, fucking you until he can’t fuck you anymore.
Finally, Seungcheol slumps down against you, applying some of his weight over you like a weighted blanket.
He’s panting hard against your breasts, cheek pressed to the center of your chest.
“Your heart is going wild, honey,” he muses after a moment.
All you can do is laugh, unable to find the words just yet after the power of your release.
Instead, you stroke his hair, and Seungcheol lets out a murmured moan, nuzzling closer to you. “I do love you, you know.”
“I know.”
He chuckles. “You aren’t going to say it back?”
“Take me on a date first,” you tease.
“Tomorrow, if you can still walk, I’ll take you out.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.” He presses a kiss to your sternum. “If you can’t walk, I’ll bring the date to you.”
“How romantic,” you say sarcastically.
“Don’t start with me, honey,” he warns.
“I’m not starting anything,” you defend yourself with a giggle.
He looks up at you, eyes sparkling. “Sure you’re not.”
You lean down to kiss him gently, loving how domestic this whole thing has turned. But of course, ever the sex fiend, Seungcheol quickly ruins it. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll fuck you again.”
You can’t help but shake your head. “You promise?”
“If you’re going to talk back like this, make it five.”
He’s such a fuck, but you kind of love him.
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🔮 preview. “We tried letting you be in control,” he responds, pushing your legs together as he straddles you from behind. “It wasn’t as fun as me being in control though."
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, dom/sub themes, powerplays, Seungcheol tries to be a little submissive, he’s not great at following directions, dirty talk, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, blow job, mention of deep throating, nipple play/nipple pinching, creamipie, cumming together, etc… I petnames. (hers) honey
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.2k I teaser wc. 175
🌙 starring. Seungcheol x afab!Reader
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“Hey, big guy,” you grin as you enter the apartment, eyes finding Seungcheol sitting on the living room couch. “How was your day?”
He pauses his show to look at you, flashing a tired smile. “It was okay.”
“Yikes,” you immediately go to join him on the couch, cuddling up to his side. “The new handler still being a bit of a dick?”
“Joshua was hand-picked by Jeonghan, it’s not like I can do anything about it,” Seungcheol sighs. “How about you, still enjoying the wizz kid?”
“Dino’s a good one,” you insist. “He follows instruction very well.”
Seungcheol scoffs, rolling his eyes.
“You still jealous that I’m in his ear and not yours?” you tease, poking your boyfriend’s chest.
“Don’t go there, honey,” he warns.
“Come on- it could be fun. I think having someone who listens well has built my confidence… you know, we could try it out a little, if you want.”
“You want me to be submissive?” Seungcheol’s brows raise in a sort of shocked amusement. “Not a chance in hell.”
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Camp Counselor x you
Rated 18 + — mature short content !
Includes: yandere best friend x fem reader, you guys are both camp counselors, bimbo reader, protective and obsessed behavior, mentions of blowjobs, fingering, manipulation, sort of fwb, he's whipped for you.
*Finally a yandere with a name! He goes by "Pres" or "your best friend." I should be working on other stuff soon, but I can't focus for some reason. LOL! Maybe yandere husband part four next, or the superhero. This is purely fictional writing!*
Synopsis: Your best friend convinces you to go to this remote camp deep into the woods with him. He marketed it as a fun paid getaway, but he was ready to taint your innocence.
You’re the exact person he would go for, and the one he’s been wanting to fuck. He wouldn’t dare to toss you aside like all the other women he’s been with. No, he wants you forever. You're his.
Being a camp counselor with your friend was hard. He had the hots for you, and that was pretty clear. Your best friend was named after the late famous singer Elvis Presley. His parents went absolutely crazy for the rock and roll musician, so much so that they named their son “Presley.” But he went by “Pres,” wanting nothing to do with the man he doesn’t even like.
Pres was a hot-headed and flirtatious nineteen-year-old who was only nice to you. He was a bit troubled and rough around the edges, smoking pot and drinking beer whenever he could. He got into a lot of fights, and most of them were because of you.
You were sweet, bubbly, and innocent. You had a tight, round ass that drove him wild, your hair always blowing in the wind, and your mini clothes accentuated your body perfectly. He bought you anything you wanted and did whatever you asked. Despite his tough exterior, he was a mushy, gushy guy on the inside.
He was your closest childhood friend, always coming to your house for years without a single break. Pres told you about the job, shoving the flyer in your face, and he raved about the opportunity. Money, sleeping in cabins, and taking care of kids—it all seemed pretty easy. It also meant he could have you all to himself for three whole months!
The day before the kids arrived for the summer, the counselors had one last meeting. You were able to check out the cabins, rest up for the night, and be well-rested for the morning. That was until your friend snuck out of his cabin and came to yours.
He tiptoed quietly, clinging to the shadows as he looked around to see if his supervisors were nearby. Slowly, he inched closer to your window. Your friend had told you to keep it unlocked, so he hoped you had listened. He let out a small grunt as he used his biceps to lift the window, which slid up smoothly.
“Oh would you look at that?” He muses, pushing his body though. He eyed you up and down, noticing how you were already in your pink silk nightgown. “Now that’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen.”
All of the boring and long hikes to see a couple of mountains meant nothing in comparison to this. Seeing you in your room with lit candles all around, your legs apart, and your supple breasts covered by thin fabric was captivating. His feet found footing on your carpet as he approached closer to your sleeping form. That night, he slept right by your side, not wanting to leave you for a single moment.
You both teetered on the line between just being friends and being lovers. He would try to convince you to make out with him. You were just his type: ditzy, pretty, and downright adorable. He could show you a good time if you let him. His hands would rest on your hips, lovingly rubbing your sides up and down, occasionally slipping lower to your ass.
Presley convinced the kids assigned to you to hang out with his group, all so he could pull you into the woods and put on a cute display. He showered you with little kisses on your neck, his deep, rumbling voice cooing swoon-worthy words, and his brown eyes held so much warmth and affection. It was enough to convince you to get down onto your knees, his cock already pulled out of his tan shorts.
You’re a hot babe. Even hotter with your lips around the head of his cock. It must've been your first time, or you were just struggling with his length. Pres guided your head up and down, and with a loud grunt he came inside your mouth. He would tell you that you did amazing, help you wipe your mouth clean, and he’ll return the favor.
He doesn't understand what personal space even means. Your bed was his, and his was always open for you and only you. Once he got his rowdy kids to settle down in their bunk beds, was the moment he had you trapped outside, his fingers soaking in your cunt. He had his hand around your mouth, his knee pushing your legs apart, and his fingers kept pressing against the spot that had your head spinning.
No matter what he does, you still think you guys are just friends. Even if that word does irk him, he'll use it to his advantage. Showering with him was something friends do, so you can’t really say no. Him helping you clean every crevice of your body was just him being nice. Him choosing specific outfits that he wants to see you in was only because he was a 'fashionista.' He barely gave you any time to argue back when he stuffed your body into the swimsuit in the dead of night.
Pres tried his hardest to woo you. On lake day, he would pull off his shirt, muscles on display, and jump into the water. When he came up to the surface, his hair glistening in the light and his body dripping wet, he would try to catch a fish—doing manly things to show off. If that didn’t work, he would walk inside with you to the grand hall, where he’d make friendship bracelets with you. You were happy to do simple things like that, and he’d even make flower crowns with you.
The yandere was a competitive and athletic man. He would win at all of the games—tug-of-war, rock climbing, and don’t even mention any sort of crossword puzzle near him. All of his winnings would go to you. The chocolate gold coins from See's Candies were yours, the tiny trophy he got for catching the most fish was in your hands before you could blink, and the whittled statue of a moose from capturing the prettiest pictures was promptly put into your bag.
He had his softer moments: carrying your suitcases for you and putting them into the shuttle when camp ended, wrapping his jacket around you when you shivered, and letting you have the window seat because you liked to sightsee. He would remember your favorite snacks (he forced himself to like the same things) and offer his arm to be used as your pillow during the drive.
Right when he thought the relationship had progressed into something more, with your head resting on his shoulder, you said the words he didn’t want to hear: "You're the greatest best friend I have ever had."
Ah, shit. Seriously?
“Mhm, yeah, yeah,” he said unenthusiastically with a slight eye roll, and he gently patted your head. “Just go to sleep.”
#Allurilove yandere writing#new yandere named Presley! But he goes by Pres#yandere best friend x you#yandere x fem reader#male yandere#sort of fwb#yandere x bimbo reader#yandere oc x you#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere x reader#yandere x y/n#yandere x darling#yandere smut#smut writing#obsessive love#possesive yandere#protective yandere#yandere best friend#yandere male#male yandere x fem reader
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sweet talker | s.r.
in which french!reader gets caught using a special nickname for a particular genius
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: french. guys i don't speak french. bad french. bad flirting. but wholesome content all around. word count: 639 a/n: i do not speak french but this was a request and i live to serve the people of tumblr. if this offends the french i think that's just a risk i have to take.
Something about it felt like home. Not necessarily like the bullpen compared in the slightest to where you grew up, but the hustle and bustle of the BAU, while they were in the depths of a case, had the same feeling of a home.
As you rushed around the floor, placing files on desks and picking old ones up as you went, dropping soft thank you’s to the people in the office rounding the corner of Morgan’s desk, scooping his files from his desk and placing them in your own collection, “Merci, mon chou,” you thanked quickly.
Your co-worker smiled in response, “Anything for you, sweet talker,” he said, leaning back in his desk chair.
Scoffing, you shook your head. To Derek Morgan, anything said in French counted as sweet talking.
Balancing all of the files against your hip, you prepared to pick up the stack of papers on Spencer’s desk, but he stood up and gathered them in his own arms, “I’ll get them,” he offered. Although, it wasn’t much of an offer, seeing as he was already carrying his files.
It would be worse if you were to attempt to carry all of the files on your lonesome, so you decided to follow his lead to the file room.
Spencer was somewhat of a guiding light for you in the BAU. You considered yourself lucky to have been placed with a team that had two members who spoke French, which came in handy when you forgot certain English words, Emily and Spencer were usually there to save you.
Setting your files down on the spare table in the room, you started to organize them by which cabinet they went in as Spencer went ahead and returned his folders based on memory. “Do you think Morgan knows what you’re saying when you speak to him in French?”
Chuckling, you shook your head, “Non, mon cœur,” the words easily slipped out of your mouth. “I think Derek gave up on comprehending me the first week I joined the team,” you responded, checking the front and back of a file to make sure you were sorting it into the correct drawer.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “His English-to-French dictionary sits pretty untouched.” No one was of the mindset that you shouldn’t speak French at work, and you didn’t ask them to learn for you. Besides, work allowed you to strengthen your English skills.
Frowning at the same folder, you held the folder out to Spencer, “Do you know where this one goes?”
Accepting the folder from you, Spencer flipped through the first couple of pages before deftly slipping it into a drawer, “Sometimes I wish I could just know where things were, I’d never lose my car keys again.”
Spencer hummed in response, “I wish I spoke French like you.”
“Oh,” you said, “I think you speak French very well.”
Sliding another drawer shut, Spencer stepped over to a new one a few feet closer to you, “Thank you, but if I ever go to France, I’m taking you with me.”
You smiled to yourself at his proclamation, biting your tongue as the door swung open and Emily stepped in, “Hey, do you have that file on the Montana killer? I need it back.”
Spinning on your heel, you looked around for it, only to realize that it had already been put away, “Sorry,” you said, forgetting your proximity to Spencer as you stepped to the side.
He closed his drawer, “Pardonne moi, mon ange,” he said, grabbing a folder from your pile on the table and slipping out of the file room, “I still need this one.”
With Emily’s folder in your hand, you turned to look at your shell-shocked co-worker, “Did he...? And you two...?”
Thrusting the file in her direction, you looked at her with equally wide eyes, “Tais-toi.”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot
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“I’m just saying it’s manipulative.”
“Manipulative? Eddie you can’t be serious.”
“I am, now, where’s the dish? It’s got to be around here somewhere.”
“Maybe in this box, clearly labelled ‘kitchen’?” Dustin snarks, “and I don’t see how you can say behaving in a way that’s been dictated by your very biology is...manipulative. That’s not fair, man.”
Eddie digs in the box, bringing out the baking dish he wants, and then heads back into the kitchen, swerving around clutter and open boxes as he goes, “yeah, I get that a lot of Omega act the way they do because of what they are, alright. I get that, I do. But all this...kind of, 'oh my oh my, can’t the big Alpha come and save me...I just need looking after and...and protecting'. And I get that it works, a lot of Alphas eat that shit right up, I’m just not one of them.” Eddie bangs around in the kitchen fixing Wayne’s famous corned beef hash casserole, “it’s just not for me, you know? I don’t want someone who’s just going to do as they’re told and roll over on everything, I want someone who is equal, not someone who wants looking after all the time. I will not be loosing my head over any Omega, no matter how pretty they are.”
“So you...wouldn’t look after your Omega?” Dustin squints at him.
“Firstly, not happening, not ever, I’m sticking to Beta’s and that is final...but, I mean, yeah, of course I’d look after my partner, but I’d do that for anyone. I don’t want this hormone driven need to...to I don’t know. It’s just not for me Henderson, okay? Now help me with the books.”
Dustin whines, “but there’s like, fifty million of them...and I still don’t agree that it’s manipulative. They’re just...playing to their strengths, or whatever.”
“Right, so an Omega bats their eyelashes and every Alpha in sniffing distance is falling over themselves to do whatever the Omega wants, and that’s not manipulative?”
“Welllll…no, especially since it only works because of the Alphas in the first place, if it’s anyone fault, it’s the Alphas, right?”
“Fucking...just shut up Henderson.”
Eddie’s just put their plates on the table when there’s a knock at the door, “I’m not waiting,” Dustin sits down and starts shoveling, and Eddie mutters curses all the way to the door, he’s absolutely starving-
“Hi, I am so sorry,” it’s an Omega. A ridiculously pretty one. A very, very pregnant one. “I’m from next door,” the very very pretty Omega is on tip toes, trying to look over Eddie’s shoulder. He’s clutching a plate to his chest, “I know you’ve just moved in and, again, I am so so sorry about this, but is there any chance I could try what you’re cooking? Please?”
He smells so good. Even better than a regular Omega; Eddie’s sure it’s because he’s pupped, probably some biological bullshit about protecting pups and whatever. But still, he’s...he’s cute, standing there with his plate, sniffing after Eddie’s cooking.
“I could smell it in the hall. It could just be the tiniest bit, but I just would really like to try it, I’m so sorry for interrupting your dinner but-”
“Hey, it’s okay,” Eddie says, taking the guys plate, “just hang there a second.” Eddie goes and...well, if he fills the plate of what was going to be tomorrows dinner, no one needs to know. Eddie might have opinions on gender, but he’s not a dick. The guy is very pregnant, plus he was being super polite about it. He even brought his own plate.
It’s another human being, pregnant and hungry; Eddie would do the same to help anyone out. This is absolutely nothing to do with the guy being the prettiest Omega Eddie’s ever seen in real life.
Eddie delivers the plate back, “oh my goodness,” oh okay, that’s adorable. Eddie’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone say ‘oh my goodness’ in real life, like, ever. “Thank you so so much, is there anything I can do? I can contribute to the ingredients or-” and that’s when Eddie figures that not only is the guy very pretty, he’s actually a reasonable human being too, lots of people wouldn’t have even thought about that sort of thing.
“No, we’re good just, ah, let me know what you think.”
“I will, I will,” the guy is saying as he turns to leave, carefully carrying his laden plate. He’s big enough that he’s kind of waddling, and Eddie watches him long enough to see him go into the next apartment along the hall.
Eddie shuts the door, turning back to find Dustin watching him, both eyebrows raised, a very accusatory look on his face, “oh shut the fuck up.”
“Just let me know what you think,” Dustin mimics back, like a little bitch.
Part Two
#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#steddie#pre getting together#pre steddie#dustin henderson#omega steve harrington#alpha eddie munson#ao3 author#ficlet#ao3 writer#mpreg
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I’m obsessed with the sister!hotch and Reid fics. I can’t stop imagining that scene where Rossi goes to Garcia’s house and she’s fresh from the shower with Kevin. But instead is Hotch at readers house and Spencer is there.
—you and Spencer are in the midst of a long weekend together when your brother shows up unannounced. fem, 1.3k
“You’re really handsome.”
Spencer laughs as you drag your hands back over his ears and through his sopping wet hair. The shower water is blissfully warm and soaking your front as it rains down on his head. You shield his eyes but otherwise have your fun. His hair is softer than anything you’ve ever felt.
He holds your hands flat to his head. “You’re handsomer.”
“Am I supposed to take that in a good way or a bad way?” you ask.
“A good way!” he says, forgetting your hands in favour of guiding you under the water. “Handsome has nearly always been used for men more than women, but it didn’t fall out of fashion for girls until the fifties.” He tilts your head upward and to one side as his own begins to fall the other way. “You’re beautiful.” His voice is warm on your lips, “you’re so–”
His kiss is ridiculous; he kisses like he’s starving. You didn’t realise men could actually kiss like this until you met him. It’s not just in the movies, it’s right now, his hand at the back of your neck, unbothered by your laughing or your hand slipping down his wet t-shirt.
“This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done,” you say.
“We were covered in mud.”
“We should’ve just got naked.”
“We’re taking things slow,” he says, laughing, “it’s fun. But what are we gonna do about our wet clothes?”
“You got the most of the mud on you,” you say. Spencer had performed a valiant rescue in that when you fell, he was straight down into the grass after you in an attempt to save your jeans. It didn’t work, obviously, but the thought was there, and he’s such a good kisser in the shower that you don’t mind the loss. “I’m gonna get out and get changed, you can have a real shower, okay? I’ll get you a towel and your pyjamas and stuff.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I think all the mud from my top half is gone.”
Spencer takes your face into his hand. His thumb rubs a line along your jaw. “Now it’s gone.”
You beam. Who knew Dr. Spencer Reid was such a tender guy? You could sort of guess from looking at him that he’d touch you like that, but it’s a contrast, too, to be kissed as though you’re some irresistible siren and to have your face held like fragile glass.
You step out of the shower still sodden, clothes heavy, and close the frosted door between you and Spencer to strip down. Separated but still shy, you hurry out of your clothes and into a towel, wrapping yourself tightly to head into your bedroom.
You put on blissfully dry underwear and blot your face. Next is loose pyjama pants and a big t-shirt: you’ve never worried about being sexy for Spencer and you’re not about to start. Your first date was a walk in the park, your second date at the bowling alley. He’s not concerned with that stuff. It’s why his frankness about wanting to take things slow isn’t scary, because when he holds your face and tells you you’re pretty, you believe it.
“Y/N?”
You flinch so hard your neck cracks. “Ow,” you whine.
“What’s wrong?”
You walk forward before Aaron can let himself into your bedroom. Sure enough, your older brother is in your apartment (as he’s allowed, given that he furnished the entire place and paid the security deposit, and, also, awfully, is a very nice big brother). He’s smiling, carrying two pizza boxes and a carton atop it that smells like French fries. “What have you done now?” he asks fondly.
“I hurt my neck, you scared me.”
“If you answered your phone, you’d know I was here.”
“I was in the shower!”
“I can see that. You’re getting slovenly, it’s almost midday.”
You’re so genuinely happy to see him that you forget for a moment your predicament. “It’s the weekend, I can do what I want.” You’re gonna have to let him down, which won’t be easy. “I’m not feeling the best, actually.”
Aaron lets the pizza boxes rest against his stomach. “How come?”
“I don’t know, I just feel tired. Maybe we can do something tomorrow.”
“Honey,” Aaron says, with all the cadence of someone who’s used to rubbing your back when you’re sick, “what’s wrong? Let’s go sit down, I can make you something less greasy.”
“I think you should just go home, actually. I might be contagious.”
He looks less concerned and more gutted. “What? I don’t care if you’re contagious. When has that stuff ever bothered me?” Aaron takes another step toward you, his gaze flitting past you toward your bathroom. “What’s really going on?”
The age gap between you and Aaron is expansive. Your being adopted is another gap, and neither have ever bothered him. The moment you showed up in his life he gave you everything he could manage, which has manifested in long phone calls, in hugs, in homemade soup and delivery when he couldn’t be there. Asking him not to look after you is like telling him you don’t want him to, and it isn’t true.
He means a lot more to you than whatever awkwardness your confession will inspire.
“Aaron,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Spencer’s in the shower.”
He squeezes his pizza boxes. “Sorry?”
“We went to the park and I fell by the lake. He’s in the shower.”
“But you were just in the shower,” Aaron says.
“Well, we weren’t in there at the same time,” you drag.
Your lie is obvious to him, not just as a profiler but as your brother. His brow pinches and his nose wrinkles, not disgusted with you or anything so cruelly stupid, but dissatisfied, at least. “Did you have to tell me that?” he asks, pained.
“I didn’t tell you that, you profiled that, and it’s sort of not what you think anyways! We didn’t do anything–”
“Honey.”
“I’m really sorry, but it’s not what you think.”
“Listen to me.” The shower turns off and Aaron’s cheek twitches. “You are a grown up. You can do what you like with who you like. It’s my fault for coming here unannounced, I keep thinking of you as younger than you are.” Says the adult. Then, the more friendly part of being a sibling emerges, “Could you send him home?” he whispers. “I got your favourite.”
You laugh at his proposition. “That’s kinda rude, isn’t it? Can’t he stay? He’s cool.”
“I’m having trouble coalescing the two of you as more than acquaintances in my mind,” he says, as though he has much more to say about it, even if he’s smiling.
Spencer chooses that moment to walk from the en-suite bathroom and out of your room, a t-shirt stuck to his chest with damp, his own pyjama pants baggy at the ankles.
“Hey, are you okay?” Spencer grabs your hand impulsively, twining his fingers in yours. Then he sees Aaron and does a double take. “Hotch?”
You give Aaron a sorry smile. “Does that make it easier?”
“I’ll wait in the kitchen.”
You and Spencer watch Aaron retreat. His hand stays in yours, but he squeezes you too tightly. “Wait for what?” Spencer whispers fervently.
You lean up on tiptoes to kiss his eyebrow. “You’re about to get the shovel talk, I think.”
“Oh. Great.” He drops his forehead against your shoulder, wet hair dripping a path down your shirt. “This is really bad.”
“He brought pizza.”
“I don’t think that’s going to help me.”
You crane your head and kiss-kiss-kiss the top of his ear. “You’re really pretty when your hair is wet.”
Spencer murmurs to you reluctantly. “You’re really pretty all the time.”
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid fic#spencer reid fanfiction
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How Do You Just Know My Parental Figure?
Marvel just knows everyone’s mom’s for some reason and gives no explanation as to how. He just does.
Supes: *shows Billy a picture of his parents for whatever reason*
Marvel: “Supes… your mom is Mrs. Martha?”
Supes: “Yes? Do you know her…?”
Marvel: “Yeah! We met in ‘61 at a pie eating competition! She was the one making the pies for the competition.”
Supes: “Why were you at a pie eating competition? Were you participating?”
Marvel: “Uh yeah? I wanted that prize money and pie. Anyways, me and her hit it off when we got to talking. Then, the time bubble happened, but when it burst, we got back in touch and we make pies together now!”
Supes: “Huh. Ma’s never mentioned you.”
Marvel: “Really? i’ve been to the farm and everything.”
Supes: “You’ve been to the farm?!”
Marvel: “Yeah? A bake pies with her and try to help around the farm. By the way, Mr. Jonathan is your dad, right?”
Supes: “Yes?? How come I never knew this…?”
By the way, Billy goes as Billy and not as Marvel because he met like a maybe fourteen year old Ma Kent as Billy at the pie eating competition. Also, Martha knows he’s Cap so since Martha knows his identity, he figured she’d told her son. By the way, whenever Jon comes he’s so happy to see Billy cause wow! His grandma never told him there was another kid here. He figures Billy was a farmhand or something. Jon’s pretty sure that’s a thing anyways.
or
Wondy and Marvel: *sparring*
Marvel: “You know Diana you look just like your mother.”
Wondy: *falters slightly cause that came out of nowhere* “What?”
Marvel: *takes that as his chance to grab and throw her* “Yeah, you do! I guess it makes sense since you’re her daughter and all.”
Wondy: “Wait? you’re saying all of this like you personally know my mother.”
Marvel: “I did! Several thousand years ago. We used to be best friends! Then I was selected as a champion and had to leave and that’s when of our friendship fell out.”
Wondy: “So you’re an Amazonian?”
Marvel: “No, no no no I was an Amazonian.”
That previous champ and Hippolyta were actually besties but a young Hippolyta didn’t want her to go to man’s world because then she wouldn’t be able to come back to Themyscira. The previous champ went anyways and that was taken as a sort of act of betrayal, not that Diana’s mother would admit it. Not to mention, the previous champ couldn’t even come back to apologize considering you forget the island’s location if you leave.
or
Reporter: “Captain Marvel, as a member of the Justice League is there anything you would like to share with us about Bruce Wayne considering he sponsors you all?”
Marvel: “No, I don’t actually know anything about the guy. But you who I do know? Patrick Wayne.”
Reporter: Pardon? Please elaborate?
Marvel: “He was a pretty funny guy. He let me be a test dummy for all his little gadgets. It was fun!”
Meanwhile…
Bruce: *sitting on his couch watching this and remembers how he did research on his grandfather, and how most of those experimental gadgets were deadly*
Patrick and Marvel were actually pretty good buddies. They were like this 🤞. Then, the time bubble happened and by the time Billy got out, both Patrick and his son Thomas were already dead. Billy got really fortunate with Martha still being alive now that he thinks about it.
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heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.
thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words
"Stevie!"
You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...
"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"
He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.
"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."
Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.
"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."
You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.
"Am not!"
"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.
Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.
"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.
It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.
"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.
"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"
You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.
"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."
Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."
"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"
You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"
"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"
"My hair?"
Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.
"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."
"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."
Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"
"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."
"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."
"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"
Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."
With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.
Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.
"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."
He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"
"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."
His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"
"I don't wanna."
"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"
You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"
He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"
"Why not?"
Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.
You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."
Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.
You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."
Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?
"Well, what if I carried you?"
"Like a princess?"
Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.
"How romantic," Nancy observes.
"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.
"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."
"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."
"As if," Eddie counters.
Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.
"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."
"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."
"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."
"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."
"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."
Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."
And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.
"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."
"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"
You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."
"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."
Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.
The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.
Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."
"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."
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