#bang tan boys

[cyavillaarts]

Dynamite

RM Jin Jimin J-Hope Jungkook Suga V

BTS

[chanstopher]

240712 I-DAYS Milan ©️🥠GoQuokka🥠

[onedoors]

[denim-bias]

[januaryembrs]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Description: Sunshine rookie gets a boyfriend, and Spencer can’t help but think he would be so much better for her. But that definitely isn’t the jealousy talking, right?

Length: 8k

Warnings: nothing really, jealousy? talks of sex? embarrassment? Mention briefly of vomit because of allergic reaction.

main masterlist.

author’s note: I want to write for these two until my fingers are two little stubs and even then I’ll learn with my toes. Can be read as a stand alone!

He thought he was going to be sick when he saw her that random Thursday, leaning against her desk, a sweet, bashful smile on her face. Or, more specifically, Spencer thought he was going to need to at least sit down when he saw the man standing next to her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the little daisy earrings Penelope bought her for her birthday almost laughing at his gobsmacked expression. 

He liked Agent Taylor Bingley. He respected the fresh faced desk jockey from the third floor that swanned around their bullpen, usually discussing warm up routines with Luke. He was quick on his feet, a pretty decent shot. Never missed a report, never tardy, even offered his parking spot up to Spencer on more than one occasion because he didn’t mind the long walk from the other lot. He flew under the radar, and when he was noticed, it was because he was a particularly kind soul. 

Spencer didn’t think he’d ever seen him without those rosy cheeks that made him look almost always sunburnt, or that trademark boyish grin a handsome guy like him had down to a tea. So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise to see him lingering around his sunshine girl. 

Except she wasn’t his, not by a mile. They just spent almost every second of the work day together.

“Check it out, rookie has an admirer,” Tara said, the heels clicking against the floor as she passed the door, where Spencer seemed to have stopped, his eyes narrowing at the happy couple, “Can’t say I blame him. She’s a pretty girl, don’t you think, Spence?”

She didn’t realise she was rubbing salt in a superficial wound, but Spencer felt his jaw feather with annoyance. Because she was beyond a pretty girl, she was honey and all the months of Spring and a hot drink on a rainy day and finishing a good book and the dessert your mom let you have on your tenth birthday. Not that he could admit that. So he just nodded, right as Taylor leaned over to kiss the apple of her cheek. 

She shied away, smiling to her lap and playing with her fingertips, not looking up from her little potted plant that sat next to her on her desk, and Spencer knew it was because she floundered when people gave her too much attention.

Like when Garcia had said her blouse and bun combo she’d worn the other day made her look like a sexy teaching assistant, she’d stammered something close to a thankyou and headed to the kitchenette to get herself a glass of water. Or when Rossi had said the bangs she had cut herself two weeks ago looked cute, that his daughter had been desperate to try something similar, she’d spilled her coffee down her front not even two seconds later because she had been so occupied telling the man it was no big deal. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid, Doctor Lewis,” Taylor said, his pearly white teeth gleaming with that West Coast, surfer boy tan that made Spencer want to huff. The man was insufferable. Well, correction, he was insufferably nice for someone Spencer was desperate to pick apart with faults the second he’d seen her preening over their sunshine rookie. 

“Morning, Agent Bingley,” Tara said civilly, smiling back at the Agent that passed them to head to the elevators. She caught a glimpse of Spencer, and was quick to make herself scarce in the interest of needing to check in with Penelope, because she knew what that stormy look in his eye and the way his lips pressed into a thin line meant, profiler or not. 

Spencer didn’t pay much attention to Lewis leaving his side, not that he was trying to be rude, his eyes were zeroed in on the way she fumbled around her desk, looking for imaginary mess to tidy, which included rearranging the pots of glitter pens and highlighters next to her monitor, only to put them back exactly how they were before. 

“Agent Bingley, that’s new,” Came a voice over her shoulder, that made her jump in her seat, and her expression was skittish when she swivelled around, Spencer towering over her with calculating eyes. Luke rolled his chair around the divider to lean in on the conversation, having witnessed the whole thing in high definition since her desk was right next to his. 

“Oh, Taylor?” She squeaked, and Spencer didn’t need to touch her face to know it had gone hot just by the way she simpered and fiddled with the hem of her knee length skirt, avoiding their gaze, “Yeah, he took me to the aquarium at the weekend and we got lunch. It’s not really serious or anything, I don’t think,” 

She seemed unsure, her lips pursed together and a tiny crease between her brow he hated, and it was then Luke’s deep laugh rumbled next to them. 

“Does he know that?” Luke asked, and she shot him a look, wide eyed and confused, as he cleared his throat, “I was thinking I could take you out again in that pretty red dress-”

She threw a wad of scrunched up notepaper at him, an embarrassed smile on her face as she shook her head at him, “You have spent way too much time with Penelope, you’re turning into gossiping school children,” 

But she seemed happy, like the thought of the conversation she’d had with Agent Bingley made her all the more girlish herself as she giggled lightly, her gaze meeting Spencer’s empty expression. He wished he could hide his jealousy better, perhaps even seem happy for her. She deserved someone soft and saccharine and humane like Bingley, not a rough shell of what once was a brilliant man. He knew he should feel somewhat pleased for her, at least now he had empirical, hard evidence on why he couldn’t have her, but he couldn’t. 

“All I’m saying, rookie, is if you got that man bringing you breakfast and sweet talking you after one date, you’ll have him wrapped around your pinky by the time he’s your boyfriend,” Luke chuckled, and Spencer thought he might just burst a vessel with how hard he clenched his jaw at that dreaded b word. 

Alvez had no idea just how much he had twisted a knife in Spencer’s gut, which was plunged even further when he saw that sparkle in her eye when she looked up at him. 

“Ignore him, he’s a busy body,” She chirped, her teeth peeking from her lips when she hid a grin, “You wanna get coffee later? Taylor brought me tea and I’m dying for the good stuff,” 

Spencer nodded with a small smile, because her attitude was infectious, and selfishly thinking that Bingley couldn’t be that perfect for her because she only ever wanted tea when she felt sick, usually towards the start of the month that he guessed was in correlation with her menstrual cycle but would never ask. She wouldn’t want tea for another two weeks, and would likely take an extra shot in her cappuccino today because this was when she felt the most lethargic.  

Swivelling back around in her chair to log onto her computer, she remained completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. 

For once, Spencer wished he’d been late to work.

–

Two months. They had been dating for two fucking months. As far as Spencer could tell, from Penelope’s need to chatter about their sunshine rookie and her hot, stud muffin of a boyfriend, things had only been official for about five weeks of that time, but it hadn’t stopped Spencer from wanting to swallow glass because that would likely be less inconvenient than seeing the two of them together. 

Taylor usually brought her breakfast whenever they would get back from a case, which infuriated Spencer because he always bought her tea. She was a people pleaser, Spencer knew it before he had ever thought of her as anything other than the shiny newbie with too much joy and doe eyes he’d never seen before. But now, knowing her better than anyone else in the office did because she practically shadowed his footsteps, it was blaringly obvious to him that she had either never told him she didn’t like tea first thing in the morning, or he had never bothered to take notice. 

Spencer felt an odd puddle of smugness and fury when on more than one occasion he saw her pouring it down the drain, cold after sitting there for hours until it was unbearable and she couldn’t force herself to drink anymore. It was obvious to him, so why wasn’t it obvious to her own boyfriend? Spencer thought bitterly. But then Agent Bingley did leave a sour taste in his mouth these days.

Speaking of which, Spencer felt that pang in his chest the way he always did when the happy couple walked into the office together. Her hand was usually in his, though she seemed to simper under the weight of the team's glances; knowing and teasing as he’d take her to her desk and whip out the to-go pastries that he’d bought them that morning. 

“Morning, Spence,” She skipped past his desk, Taylor trailing behind her like a dog, though she seemed not to mind keeping him waiting a moment as she spoke to her friend, “How was Doctor Who?”

He smiled despite his grudge, because she always remembered what he said. He’d told her once that Thursdays were his evening to watch the show, and every time Friday morning rolled around, she’d bound up to lean over his computer and ask. 

“It was okay, I’m excited to see what they do with a Female Doctor, even if I’ll miss Capaldi,” He replied earnestly, and her eyes filled with glee. 

“Did they give her a new one of the doo-hickies they have?” She asked, his chest butterflying with an aching sort of affection because she seemed to remember everything he ever told her. 

“Sonic Screwdriver?” She nodded her head, even though Spencer knew she didn’t quite understand the show entirely, “Yeah, I prefer Sarah Jane’s Sonic Lipstick however,” 

“I wish I had one of those, I could reapply and save the world, how cool would that be?” She said, and they laughed together a little, before Taylor popped his head over Spencer’s computer with that dentist white beam and his excitable eyes, bluer than any sea rolling onto shore. 

“Morning, Doctor Reid,” Agent Bingley said, and the smile withered from Spencer’s face, morphing into a civil nod, his expression unreadable. 

“Morning, Agent,” He said, his eyes tracking back to his screen as he suddenly found Emily’s group email about staff room fridge etiquette invigorating. 

Taylor must have taken it as a sign the Doctor Reid was busy and finally let him have a minutes peace, that is until she took a seat at her desk and he leaned next to her, handing her a warm bagel. 

Spencer heard them chatting for about ten minutes, of which he was trying anything to tune them out, including roping Luke into their own conversation. It wasn’t until there was a lapse in the chatter that Spencer’s ears pricked up, and he heard her stand up from her desk, eyes wide as she spat a mouthful out into a tissue. 

“Does this have coconut in it?” She asked somewhat fearfully, Spencer’s head whipping around to her little corner of the bullpen. Her little self help stickers dotted around her desktop stared back at him, her reminder to ‘drink water’ almost horribly ironic the second he’d heard her question. 

His stomach dropped when Taylor frowned, “Yeah, it’s coconut and raspberry, is-is that not okay?” 

Spencer was quick to stand up out of his own seat, rifling through his satchel to dig out his water bottle, making it to her desk in just two long paces and handing it to her without another word as she looked up at him worriedly. 

“If you need to puke, it’ll probably be for the best so that you can get the traces out of your stomach. You can’t have the steroids before you hurl or it won’t work,” He soothed, and she nodded, sipping on his water with shaky hands, and Spencer was quick to catch the way her skin had a slight sheen to it that hadn’t been there before. He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to gage if she was well enough to make it to the bathroom on her own or if he would need to drive her to the ER. Either way her expression worried him. 

“I-I thought it was white chocolate,” She peeped, looking extremely sorry for herself as she dumped the chewed up brownie in her bin, and Taylor almost appeared at her side, looking entirely lost as he stroked a hand down her hair. 

“Talk to me, what’s wrong?” He asked, seafoam hues trailing down her sweating face in terror. 

“She’s allergic to coconut,” Spencer cut in, his tone a little harsher than needed, and her boyfriend’s expression wilted like a kicked puppy. 

“Shit! You never mentioned, I’m so- I’m so sorry, honey,” Taylor went pale, and she didn’t look much better as she pushed past the two of them, heading for the bathroom, Spencer a single pace behind her. 

“I got her, don’t worry,” He called over his shoulder to Agent Bingley standing there like a gaping fish, his hand running through his blonde sweep as he watched her all but running out of the office, Spencer’s long legs keeping up with her. 

“Is your skin getting prickly yet?” Spencer asked. Swouldn't go into anaphylaxis, at least not as far as they knew, but the large hives that would appear on her chest and neck and the vomiting was not ideal. She kept a tray of steroids in her desk incase an accidental cross contamination happened (and because Spencer had forced her to have some on hand), but seeing her panicked eyes as she tasted the chalky fruit had made him fawn over her like she was marked for the plague. 

“Neck is getting itchy,” She replied, tugging at her collar and pushing the door to the unisex bathrooms open, heading for the nearest stall, “You don’t have to stay for this bit, it’s not-”

He cut her off by sweeping her hair into a ponytail, as if to tell her to stop worrying about him, and he stroked a hand over her arm to let her know he was right there, because he knew she really hated anything gory and gross like that. 

He hushed her when she’d try to apologise, hand her his bottle of water in between moments where her whole body seized.

And for a minute, she thought that Spencer might be the only person who she’d ever let see her like this. Not Luke, or Garcia and certainly not Taylor. 

The thought of it kept her quiet for the rest of the morning. 

-

They seemed to move past the whole debacle quickly. Luke said Taylor had taken her to a fancy restaurant uptown to apologise, making a huge point to avoid the coconut banoffee pudding like it was an explosive. 

“You guys are so cute, you’re like Jane and he’s literally your Bingley. I swear your kids are going to be sweet enough I could drizzle them right next to ice cream,” Penelope said over the SUV console speaker, Spencer in the driving seat and her in the passenger, flicking through her files as they approached the victim’s house. 

The rookie blanched, “Woah, woah, kids?” She protested, and even Spencer felt himself nearly swerve the minute the bubbly IT geek said it. She looked shaken, awkwardly chuckling and reaching to tuck hair behind her ear, “Slow down, Garcia, we’ve not even- you know what, I think we’re talking about the wrong thing here-“ 

“You’ve not even what?” Penelope burst out, her need for the lastest gossip overwhelming the reading of the room. She swallowed heavily, shifting in her seat to face out of the window, her knees touching the door with a thud, “Have you guys not had sex yet?” 

“Penelope!” The woman screeched, her face hot and gobsmacked that she’d even said it out loud. 

But it was telling enough, and Spencer’s face whirled over the console to her, guilt written on her features. 

“I just assumed you guys had done it seeing as both of you are the hottest couple I know, I mean I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you if I was a guy-“ Penelope tried to save herself in the only way she knew how, by digging herself a deeper hole. 

Spencer’s hand shot out for the centre screen, “We’re losing you, Garcia, you’re breaking up, bye,” He pressed the end call button, and he didn’t need to look at the girl’s face to know she was the epitome of mortified. 

Spencer opened his mouth to say something, the awkward silence of the car killing him as much as he knew it was her, but he thought better of it and clamped his mouth shut. It took him a minute before he opened his mouth to speak again, if not to ask her if she wanted to stop at a drive thru for breakfast, but she beat him to it. 

“I was going to say we’ve not even said I love you yet,” She murmured, keeping her body entirely swivelled away from him, her arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to make herself smaller, as if she could just smush herself into the seat so he wouldn’t say anything. She cleared her throat, scratching her wrist nervously, “But I guess that’s also true too,” 

“Why not?” Her eyes snapped onto Spencer when he braved those two words, and he sensed he’d overstepped some sort of boundary before he realised it sounded like he’d been speaking about the latter, “Why haven’t you said it?” He clarified. 

She went quiet, her shoulders shrugging being the only sign that she’d heard him, gaze trailing back out her window. 

“He’s not said it yet either, and I don’t think I want him to. Not yet at least,” Her voice was soft, heavy as if every single one of them was coming from her heart, “Love is such a big emotion I think if he did say it, I wouldn’t know how to respond. Like, if I’m going to say it back to someone, I want to be sure I feel it otherwise it’s like I’m betraying everyone else’s version of love, you know?” 

He thought she might just be an angel bottled up and thrown into his life, and he sometimes wished he could take a look inside that head of hers because how she had protected her beautiful look on the world after seeing so much hurt staggered him. He had become cruel and cold and heavy where she looked at the lecherous shithole heading for disaster they called Earth and saw right to its soul, gave it a hug, told it she would care even when no one else would. 

He tore his eyes from the road, and took in the outline of her face, mindlessly watching the pedestrians on their daily commute to grab lunch, a dog peeing against a lamp post, a motorcyclist bobbing and weaving in between the midday traffic, her doe eyes never missing a trick.

Forcing his gaping expression back on the road, because he might just swerve and hit the damn rider off his bike if he let himself get lost in his little dreamscape that consisted of nothing but her and her face and her thoughts and her words, he cleared his throat, not sure how to add to the poetic, rose tint she seemed to see the world in.

“That’s good, that you’re taking things at your own pace, atleast,” He said, not particularly profound but at least it was something, “You shouldn’t do things just because someone else wants you to, even if you think it would make them happy,”

“But I like making people happy,” She countered, her expression troubled as she looked over at him with a quirked brow, “I like making you happy especially,”

“What makes you think I’m not happy?” Spencer asked, his mouth drying up, his stomach flipping in cartwheels when she giggled to herself like for once she was the smart one snd he was the one who needed teaching.

“It took you three and a half weeks to crack a smile when we first started working together,” His jaw clenched, because he was the one who counted the statistics. Perhaps he was rubbing off on her. “Honestly, I thought you hated me. I thought a seasoned agent like yourself probably would get frustrated teaching the dumb newbie the ABC’s, even ones that admire him. But then I thought, instead of getting so butt hurt about it all, I could just give you a reason to smile and you’d see that I’m not just a useless rookie learning to roll over for treats.”

Spencer’s throat bobbed. He’d hate himself forever for being so cruel to her those first few weeks, the clipped tones when she’d add something in a particularly chirpy voice, the way he would forget his manners sometimes when she’d bring him a coffee, because his head had been so deep in survival mode that being nice didn’t matter. Being nice had got him nowhere in Mexico, in fact it had shown his soft underbelly and drawn a target on it. 

“I never hated you,” His voice croaked out, weak and pathetic, and it's times like that he remembered ten years ago talking to her would have made him blush, pop a boner, and lose half his IQ all in one go. Coughing, his knuckles turned white at the wheel, and he avoids her gaze that feels like a pitfall trap, “It’s difficult to go back to how you used to be when you’ve got a thousand eyes on your back waiting for you to lower your guard,”

“I know, I know that now, I jus-” She floundered, worried she’d touched a nerve, but he stopped her by leaning over the console and putting a gentle hand on her kneecap.

“Relax, I know I wasn’t the most pleasant person to be around,” Spencer said, his timbre quiet but honest, “You were one of the few things I looked forward to, if I’m honest.”

“Really?” She said, agog, like she was waiting for him to turn around and say it had been a joke, “You didn’t think I’m too loud or, like, too much?”

“How can there be too much of you? If your body wasn’t in correct proportion, your organs wouldn't function-”

“Spencer,” She said, though he knew she was smiling even without having to look, “You know that’s not what I meant,”

“I know,” He replied, a smug little smile quirking on his own lips because he loved making her happy too, “No, I could never find you too much.”

She simpered under his words, his hand a stoked flame on her skin as she brought her fingers over the top of them to squeeze them together, before she changed the subject because she knew her cheeks might just explode if they heated anymore.

–

They were back from a long case, one that had made everyone tired and grumpy, especially because they needed to swing by the office for an hour of admin even Emily couldn’t wriggle them out of. 

And ofcourse, as he always was when Spencer was feeling like he was already about to strangle someone out of annoyance, Agent Bingley was right there when they entered the lobby.

She hadn’t slept well on the jet, despite Spence loaning her his jumper to use as a pillow, and she was in desperate need of coffee, the kind that Spencer and Penelope forced her to try instead of the cold caramel thing she liked. She’d even go for one of Luke’s zero sugar, zero milk atrocities right now.

“Hey guys, how was the flight?” Taylor jumped in to ask, and everyone gave some sort of variation of a groan because that was exactly how it had felt. His attention turned to her, as she pulled up the rear with Spencer attached her her hip because she had been practically sleepwalking the entire way there, “Hi honey,”

“Taylor, hi,” She said, her eyes perking up when he held out a hot take away cup for her, “You really didn’t have to,”

“Nonsense, herbal tea is supposed to alleviate headaches and help get you to sleep,” He replied, his other hand behind his back quickly whipping out to produce a bunch of flowers in front of her face.

She barely had time to flash him a grin to hide the disappointment that it was nowhere near as caffeinated as she’d like, nor that she didn’t even liked herbal tea, before a bunch of lilies were thrust her way.

“Lillies,” She said, her hand covering her chest at the touching sentiment, “Taylor, you shouldn’t have,”

“I know they’re your favourites,” The blonde replied, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and effectively putting a wall between her and Spencer, whether he meant to or not. Her expression wavered, and Spencer's eyes went straight to her, waiting for her to correct him. Because they weren’t her favourites, not even in her top five. Hyacinths were. Or Foxglove. Or Delphiniums. Not Lillies. 

She nodded wordlessly, and the three of them headed for the lift, where the rest of the team held the door for them, her expression tiptoeing between guilty and smiling, Taylor’s almost ecstatic to see her after her long few days away, and Spencer’s entirely pissed off that the sun kissed jerk couldn’t see every sign blaring in his face. 

“I might have to cut off the stamen when Ace comes over,” She queried, her eyes roving over the beautiful white petals opening towards her like a book.

“Ace? Who’s Ace?” He said, and Spencer and JJ exchanged a glance, because the whole elevator was now privy to their conversation as David pressed the six button. Taylor reached forward to push the three for himself.

“The dog I foster sometimes, the one I told you about. He helps me when I need to talk through some things. He’s a very good listener,,” She said with a dopey smile on her face, her eyes casting over her boyfriends face with a willing expression, because she knew for a fact she’d told him at lengths about the bouncy Spaniel that adored her, “He comes over for playdates, but the pollen inside lilies are poisonous to dogs,”

Taylor scrunched his nose up, “Ugh, I hate dogs, they’re so slobbery and the always seem to smell awful,” He commented, her face dropping the slightest in a way that made Spencer’s hand curl into a fist, because how dare Agent Bingley take that away from her, “I thought you were a cat person?”

“I like them both equally, but Ace is sweet. He curls up on my legs after we’ve gone for a walk,” Taylor still didn’t seem convinced, and she felt stupid for even mentioning it, well aware that the rest of her team were listening in on her childish description of the old dog that wanted nothing but love. 

“Why do you need a dog to talk anyway, babe? You have me,” Taylor said, in a way that was supposed to sound comforting but made Spencer want to shake him and tell him to listen to a damn word she was saying. Her eyes dimmed, and she looked at the lilies again, feeling entirely ungrateful for wishing they were something else, and the elevator doors opened onto the third floor. Taylor kissed her cheek and waltzed out of the lift with a quick goodbye to her team that was returned in murmurs. Turning to look at her, his body already in the anteroom of his own floor, he smiled sweetly at her, “I love you,”

JJ and Emily whipped their heads to her face, expecting to see some kind of puppy love blossom there, only to find wide-eyed panic, her smile slowly slipping. Rossi cleared his throat when she said nothing, the air turning stale as the team waited for her response, Taylor looking at her expectantly, and she wished the ground would open up then and there to swallow her whole, because that would probably be better than whatever this was.

Tara nudged her shoulder, waking her out of her daze, Luke scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and it was then after a beat more of silence that Taylor opened his mouth again, “Babe, did you hear what I-”

She leaned forward to press the close door button, her doe hues in full flight mode, her fingers only picking up the pace when her boyfriend took a step closer towards the elevator, and Emily brought a hand over her mouth in muffled laughter when the doors slammed shut in front of him, their sunshine rookie entirely spooked and needing a quick exit.

The tiny metal box went silent, Spencer watching her face meld from alarm to horror, to sheer embarrassment.

“I mean, I’ll give it to you kid, that’s one way to do it,” Rossi said, patting her on the back and she shoved her face in her hands, the stems of the dove white flowers brushing against her cheek roughly.

“Please tell me that didn’t just happen,” She groaned through her fingers, JJ chuckling as the doors to their own floor opened up.

“Oh honey,” She said, rubbing the girl’s back gently, leading her out onto the BAU carpet that felt harsher against the souls of her shoes than it ever had before, “I think what you need is a coffee and a long talk with someone who isn’t a dog,”

Spencer watched her shuffle to slump down behind her desk, her expression still rattled and lost, JJ’s eyes flicking to him every now and then in a way that urged him to be the one to do just that because it was obvious by now who she talked the most openly to in the office.

But by the time he’d braved walking over to her desk, she’d already rushed through her report, excusing herself home for the day, and he knew her well enough to know she needed some breathing room before he could approach the subject, otherwise she would shut the doors on him too.

He hated the spiteful part of him that revelled in Taylor’s expression when that metal screen had slammed in his face.

—

It was three days later, and she had enforced a strict ban on talking about that day in the office. For once she didn’t look like she was going to break her resolve either, since every time someone tried to weasel information of her she would either pretend she hadn’t heard, or would excuse herself to make her fifth coffee of the day, or even had thrown her paperwork on the floor when Luke had pushed her for an answer just for an excuse to avoid the topic.

In fact, Spencer himself had been tempted to get her alone because he knew she would crack without much pressure from him, though the thought of using her trusting nature against her seemed wicked, and so he stopped himself and settled for curiosity.

It wasn’t until they were away on a case and they were shoved in a room together that the subject of Taylor was even brought up, and even then it was entirely out of his control.

“I’ll take the couch,” Spencer said, his eyes falling on the double bed in the centre of the room, striding over the other side of the room to throw his to go bag down on the two seater sofa that would wreck his back.

“Don’t be silly, we can just share the bed.” She said, as if it was the most obvious solution, which it was, “I sleep talk a little, but just give me a shove and I’ll shut up,” 

Spencer paused, watching her fumbling around her bag for her toothbrush and paste.

“Won’t your boyfriend mind?” He asked, his palms clammy because he worried for a moment it was wrong to bring it up, and his chest butterflied when she froze, “Sorry, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, I just thought I wouldn’t like my girlfriend sharing a bed-”

“We broke up,” She said, taking pulling a large pink shirt out her bag and some strawberry printed shorts, her toiletries stuffed in her pockets, “So don’t worry about any of that stuff, we can share,”

And she waltzed into the bathroom without any more explanation, the lock clicking behind her and leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts.

They had broken up? Was it because of what happened in the elevator? Was it because of what Penelope said in the car? Was she the one to break up with him or the other way around?

Spencer felt like a gossip, even though his thoughts had gone no further than his cranium, and by the time she emerged from the bathroom, fresh faced and in her pyjamas, he had already changed himself, tucked himself under the cover in the hope she understood they didn’t need to talk about it if she didn’t want to.

She smiled at him, tucking her dirty clothes back in her bag and heading for the bed, slipping under the plush duvet with a soft ooft. 

“Light on or off?” She asked, her finger hovering over the switch beside their bed.

“On, if that’s okay?” He replied and she nodded wordlessly, shuffling down under the covers, pulling them up to just below her armpits. Crossing her arms over her stomach like she was snow white waiting to fall into a poison-laced slumber, her eyes bore holes into the ceiling, and his thoughts banged loudly against his temple. The silence of the room seemed to only turn their avoidance tactics into a cacophony they couldn’t ignore.

“If you’re going to ask questions, I might as well tell you before we get back to Quantico.” She said finally, her sigh heavy and exhausted and she looked over at him, his brunette locks splaying over the pillow in waves, his facial hair scratching against the sheet when he flicked his head over to her too. 

Hazel had never been such a pretty colour than when they sat in silence for a moment, staring at one another, almost daring the other to speak first. He swallowed, his mouth watering at how she looked, tucked under the sheets, her body lax and soft under her pyjamas, her hands skimming over her stomach nervously.

“Is it because of the day in the elevator?” Spencer asked after a few minutes, breaths suddenly becoming difficult to regulate naturally unless he forced them to be, because he was so close to her under the covers, his entire body too long and gangly for just a twin bed, he could smell her shampoo and conditioning combo in full force. Her spearmint tongue rolled words around her mouth for a minute, dropping down to his Star Wars shirt he felt childish for wearing the minute he saw her looking at it.

“Kind of, he just wanted us to move so fast, it just kinda made me nervous, but I always thought being nervous was supposed to be good, you know?” She sighed, forgetting to breathe in between her splurge of words that had been building up inside her for weeks, “Like you said the feeling of excitement and fear are almost identical so I think I just convinced myself I was being dumb and I was being a bad person for not just giving him what he wanted. I’m supposed to love him, right? Being his girlfriend and all that,”

He had said that; because scientifically that was exactly correct. The hormones released during love and during fear were, down to their core, chemical matches, and it felt funny she’d remembered that fact considering she made him feel somewhere in between too. He knew she was special, just as much as he knew the idea of tainting her with his core terrified him. Like he secreted some kind of radiation that would ruin her if she got too close for too long. But he couldn’t help it. How do you stop yourself from wanting something good? It was just science. A Pavlovian response. 

“You’re not supposed to do anything. There’s no timeline for how you feel, and you can’t force yourself to feel something any quicker or stronger than you do,” He said, shaking his head when she bit her lip, her fingertips playing with one another ontop of the sheets.

“He wanted to know when I was ready to have…” She swallowed, her cheeks heating, “Intimacy with him. A-and it’s not like I’ve not done it before, I had a boyfriend in high school, but I just felt like with him…”

“He didn’t pressure you, did he?” Spencer asked, his brows furrowing as he felt a surge of annoyance flash through his blood that she had wound herself up so much just because of some guy who couldn’t keep it in his pants for a few months. 

Her eyes widened, taking in the storm brewing in that beautiful woodland gaze of his, and she shook her head quickly, “No, no, nothing like that. This was all on me, it was all just me being dumb,”

“You’re not being dumb just because some guy didn’t like the answer you gave,” He corrected, exhaling deeply and letting his frown drop, because he knew she hated when he did that, “Why didn’t you want to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She shrugged, looking back up at the dusty lamp shade hanging from the ceiling, the cobwebs that smattered around the wooden panels.

“I don’t know, I just kind of never saw the two of us.. becoming intimate, you know?” She said, her tone sheepish like she was in confession and he was a priest sat on the other side of the divide. He looked over at her, scanning the outline of her face, but she seemed adamant on avoiding his gaze, because she knew she would spill everything the minute she looked at him. With Spencer, there were no secrets, and that was entirely the problem. 

Spencer’s lips pursed, thinking of exactly the right thing to say to such a delicate soul when she was laying herself hypothetically bare for him. 

“You don’t have to be intimate in a relationship if you don’t want to. No one who loves you should ever make you feel like there’s an expectation or like you owe them that,” Spencer explained softly, edging his pinky finger out the tiniest bit to catch the back of her hand that now lay flat on the bed, her head turning up to meet his round forest hues that looked down at her with more softness than he’d felt in a long time. 

He wished he could stay here with her forever. In the quiet of this room, they were just the two of them, not Doctor Reid and the Special Agent he had a huge hopeless crush on that was years his junior and thought she could fix everything wrong with the world. 

“I know,” She sighs, and his heart caught in his throat when her pinky raises up to meet his own, the tips of their fingers brushing against one another like they were meeting each other for a slow dance. He had touched her many times before, but there was something illicit about this time. Like their skin had become oppositely charged and was pulling the other one in with an electric crackle, “He never pressured me but I felt like I could have tried harder to want it.”

“If you don’t want it, you don’t ever have to have it. A lot of people reach your age when your frontal cortex is developed and realise they might be asexual, it’s not a bad thing-” He tried reassuring her, but she was quick to shake her head again, bashfully ripping her eyes away from him to look at their caressing fingertips. 

“No, no. It’s not that I never want to be intimate ever, I just never really felt comfortable around him enough to let myself want it. Like I couldn’t just be me with him, I was just being what he wanted me to be. Like he never really knew the real me,” She explained, and she rolled over onto her side to face him, her other finger coming up to absentmindedly trace over the prominent vein that ran up his arm, stopping just below where his old needle scars were at the crook of his elbow. If she saw them, she didn’t say a word, but Spencer felt like she was trailing a flame over his skin. He thought if she took his manhood in her hand she’d probably get the exact same response from him, because with every invisible swirl and line she drew over his skin, he felt a heat ripping through his loins. “Does that make sense? Like I didn’t think he would like the ikky parts of me so I ended up putting on a charade,” 

“Y-yeah,” He replied, and his stammer made her look up, eyes wide and innocent as she watched him all but falling apart under a single fingertip. God he was pathetic. Mid thirties and nearly finishing in his boxers over a pretty girl touching his arm. Only it wasn’t just a pretty girl. It was her. His sunshine girl. “But I don’t think you have any ikky parts, to be honest,”

Her eyes deepened into pools of awe, and he watched her trail a glance down his nose to his mouth vulnerably.

“Spencer, you’re being too kind,” She whispered, and he swore his chest lurched.

He cleared his throat, and moved to roll over towards her too, hoping to disperse some of the energy that was clogging between them, only for it to become dialled to a hundred, trapping them in a tiny box where they were looking at one another, laying on the bed they were being forced to share and almost holding hands, because committing to full thing was scary like they were ten years old in a playground. 

“Of course that makes sense. It’s much healthier to form intimate relationships with people we trust and feel safe with than rushing into things,” Spencer tried to breeze past the tension, but her breath was fanning over his face, almost tripping him over his words, because she was still looking at him like he knew all the answers. Because he usually did. Except for this time. This time, he felt like he was walking blind towards his point, “Not that one night stands should be shamed or anything, but it’s much better to engage in sexual intercourse with someone when it feels right,”

She breathed out deeply, licking her lips, and her finger movements stopped. 

“So it’s just a when you know, you know, kind of thing?” She asked, her brows pulling together in a saddened frown, “I’m not, like, broken or anything?” 

He sat up on his elbow, grabbing her wrist tight enough she would listen the minute he said it to her, because he never wanted to hear her say that again, “There is nothing wrong with you, you hear me?” She looked up at him with glassy eyes, wide and shocked to see him so desperately insistent over her, “You feeling secure is more important than any guy out there, no matter how nice they are, got it?” 

She nodded after a beat, because she thought her brain might have stopped working with the way he was leaned over her, looking down at her with a glimmer of the harshness he’d been drowning in when she first met him. These days he seemed to have mellowed out the tiniest bit, except the straightforward tone he held with everyone else who wasn’t her, or the general heavy handedness he didn’t seem to realise he was capable of. Like in the way his warm, rough hands gripped the skin of her wrist, his expression somewhat frustrated though not with her as he looked down at where she was half beneath him.

“Spence?” She whispered into the electricity between them, her eyes trailing over his nose again and ghosting over his half attempt at facial hair. They were just whisps, but they suited him embarrassingly well. He didn’t reply, just stared at her to wait for her response, “I feel safe with you, you know that?” 

He swore his heart was thumping out of his chest. She looked divine under his hand, sweet like a pudding begging him to taste, and he couldn’t help it when his thumb trailed up the side of her jaw, brushing just under her bottom lip, and she seemed to press herself further into his touch, a cat being scratched behind velvet ears.

“You’d tell me if you ever wanted me to stop, wouldn’t you?” He murmured, gooseflesh crawling up his arm when she nodded, her eyes boring holes into his soul when she looked up at him like that.  

“Always,” She answered honestly, blinking at him once, twice, before she took a deep breath for courage, “But what if I never wanted you to stop?”

Spencer nearly moaned when he crashed their lips together, and he heard her squeak in delight beneath him, his large hand cupping her jaw, weaving into her hair, tugging her closer. She felt like her was consuming her whole, and she had no qualms about it, not when she reached a hand up to his shoulder and tugged him even more on top of her, the weight of him on her chest comforting and achingly right. 

He pulled away to breathe for a moment, but she was chasing his lips, her touch maddening and he swore his brain switched off when she ran a hand up his spine, slipping under his shirt and tracing over every one of his vertebrae making him shiver. Her lips were stronger than any craving he had ever felt, the instant dopamine rush embarrassing for a man of his age, so hardened by the world reduced to putty, ready to beg for more because now he’d had a taste of her ambrosia, he didn’t think he could ever think straight again. A man sent crazy by forbidden wine.

He pushed her hair away from her face, using his long fingers to wrap around the back of her head and pull her impossibly closer to him, his other arm skirting down to her clothed waist and pressing their bodies together. She whined in his mouth, and Spencer thought he could finally die happy.

He pulled away to let her catch a gasp, her fingers carding through his long, brown curls, scratching against his scalp in a way that drew a low growl from his throat. He needed more, needed her, more than the air he gulped down ravenously and he found himself kissing at her soft neck, her head tipped back in bliss as he kissed every inch he could.

“The reason I didn’t want it with Taylor,” She choked between manic breaths, her hands holding onto him so tight he knew she didn’t have any intention of asking him to stop, “Was because it didn’t feel like this,”

Spencer wove their fingers together, pushing her hand above her head as the other came up to tilt her face towards him, looking into her bleary eyes for a second, their noses ghosting past one another, her mint breath delicious on his lips.

“It never feels like this, baby,” He whispered, their foreheads pressing together before he gave into her again and pressed his lips against hers so hard she whimpered into his mouth.

And she believed him.

--

[lnfours]

more than friends | l.n

summary: good morning, gorgeous or the one where you spend the morning together after crossing the thin line you both had been dancing around.

warnings: fluff, smut (18+ ; unprotected sex (wrap it before u tap it), oral fem!receiving, and overall kinda filthy), a pre-established friends to lovers!au, all the usual stuff. we come in w a bang with this one and i fear we don’t stop, so strap in. i also kinda hate this, idk, lemme know what u think <3

listen | masterlist

the morning sun shone in your face, stirring you awake no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. and after a while, you flipped over to your other side, smiling softly at his sleeping figure and how his cheek was pressed against the pillows cutely. how his tanned skin contrasted against the white bedsheets. the same sheets you had found yourselves tangled in the night before, right after you had finally told him how you really felt about him. the two of you diving head first into the ‘more’ category of your relationship compared to dancing along the blurry line you had been teetering against for the past few months.

you smiled at small mark underneath his collarbone that you had left in your wake the night before. you had thanked the gods above that he was on summer break, not having to worry about anyone on the paddock or at mclaren questioning him about the purple mark he wore proudly on his skin.

and after a few moments of internal debate, you couldn’t help yourself anymore. you climbed over top of him, situating your knees next to his hips, straddling him as he stirred awake.

a lazy smile played at his lips as his eyes peeked open, green orbs staring right back up at you as his hands found their home on your hips, “well, good morning, gorgeous.”

you smiled back at the boy underneath you, “good morning.”

you leaned down, giving his lips a soft kiss. he smiled against your lips, pulling you back down as you giggled into his mouth. his hand coming up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss before he rolled the two of you over so he was hovering over you and you were on your back underneath him.

you laughed softly, his lips attaching to the skin of your neck, “lando,”

he hummed against you, hiking your leg against his hip in order to situate himself comfortably between your legs. your fingers tangled into his curls, tugging gently as he pushed the material of his your shirt, revealing the soft skin of your tummy. you smiled as he worked kisses down your body, stopping once his lips reached the waistband of the pajama shorts you lazily threw on the night before.

“c’mere,” he mumbled against your skin, pulling you down the mattress. you squealed as he pulled you closer, fingers working on the waistband before he was pulling them down your legs, absentmindedly tossing them behind him. not caring about where they ended up, you’d find them later.

he pressed wet and hot kisses to the skin of the inside of your thighs, taking his time. he was in no rush, and neither were you. if this was what it was like to wake up with him in the same bed every morning, god were you ecstatic.

“so pretty,” he said, eyes meeting yours, “can’t wait to wake up next to you everyday for the rest of my life.”

his words made your heart flutter and his actions made your stomach do somersaults. his lips finally traveling down to where you needed him, his tongue flattening against your pussy. you moaned at the contact, fingers immediately treading through his hair.

he moved in slow movements, soft kitten licks to your clit as your chest heaved with need. it was a pretty sight before you, the man you loved your whole life situated between your legs as his tongue worked against you slowly. his green eyes meeting yours made you moan again, this making him pick up the pace a bit.

“lando,” his name sounded so good falling from your mouth in a panting moan, “baby.”

and so did that nickname. good fuck, he was done for. there was never going to be anyone else for him other than you.

“yeah,” he mumbled, pulling away before he teased a finger against your slit, “like this, honey?”

you nodded as he pushed a finger inside you, adding a second one shortly after. you moaned louder this time, back threatening to arch off the mattress. he climbed up the length of your body, fingers continuing to pump in and out of you before his lips met yours in a kiss. you kissed him back with just as much love and need as he put into it, moaning into his mouth when his fingers curled to hit just the right spot.

“need you,” you whispered against his lips, “please.”

the sight of you begging for him was one he was sure he’d never get used to. a moan falling from his own lips this time when you reached between your bodies and palmed him through his boxers. he nodded, gently pulling his fingers out of you before pulling his boxers down and tossing them with your shorts. he pumped his dick in his hand a few times before looking down at you.

“ready?”

you nodded, his hand grabbing at your thigh to throw it against his hip. you locked it around his waist as he gently and slowly pushed into you, the both of you moaning against each others lips as he bottomed out. he stilled for a minute, letting you adjust as he placed kisses to your face.

you smiled, catching his lips before mumbling against them, “you can move now.”

and he complied, slowly rocking his hips against yours. your fingers finding the soft skin of his back as your nails dug into the muscles there.

“fuck,” he moaned, your lips kissing against his jaw. he picked his pace up slowly, the bed softly squeaking under you but neither of you seemed to care. too caught up in the feeling of the other. how he filled you up so perfectly.

“lando,” you moaned his name, “shit-“

“yeah, baby,” he said, hand slipping between you as he placed his fingers against your clit. he drew tight circles around it, causing you to throw your head back into the plush pillows, “like that?”

you nodded, “don’t stop,”

he brought a hand up, pushing the material of the shirt up all the way. he placed kisses down the valley of your breasts, slowly taking a nipple into his mouth. you moaned again and he looked up as your mouth hung open, your eyes meeting his as he let out a moan of his own.

“gonna come?” he asked, noticing how your thigh began to shake around his waist. you nodded, unable to speak as he brought your other leg up and wrapped it around his waist. the new position letting him go deeper.

“holy shit,” you breathed, “fuck-“

“c’mon baby,” he said, “come for me.”

the coil that had slowly built up in your lower abdomen had finally snapped, your back arching into his chest. your moans and the way you clenched around him making his head drop down to your neck, his own orgasm close behind you. your fingers dug into his shoulders, lips kissing his as he moaned into your mouth. his thrusts stopped abruptly before he pulled out of you, his hands moving to pump himself as he came. warm liquid coating your stomach as he panted above you, his hair fluffy and a sheen layer of sweat covering his forehead.

he caught his breath, watching as you took your pointer finger and swiped the liquid from your skin. his breathing getting caught in his throat as you popped the digit in your mouth, his eyes turning a shade darker as they met yours.

you smiled softly as he stared at you like a deer in headlights, not even noticing you had untangled from his limbs. you stood from the bed, t-shirt falling back down to the top of your thighs. you looked over your shoulder at the man you had left awestruck.

“coming?” you nodded towards the connected bathroom. he quickly got to his feet, following you into the room before pressing you up against the glass door of the shower. you chuckled as he kissed you, fidgeting to get the door open before he led you inside, turning the water on.

“i still have clothes on!” you giggled, but you should’ve known he’d have an answer for that.

“not for long,” he smirked against your lips, his hands working to quickly get rid of the material that now clung against your body. he tossed it out of the shower, not caring how it had landed in a wet heap on the tile floor.

he grabbed at the backs of your thighs, signaling you to jump. and you did, wrapping around him as he pressed you against the glass wall. a hand coming up to pin yours above your head as his tongue explored your mouth. you moaned against him, fully smitten and aware that he was about to have his way with you.

and god, you wanted nothing more.

[ramonathinks]

BILLIONAIRE BOYS CLUB

stuck in an elevator with the three elite billionaire sons of Bruce Wayne.

tags: (18+) fingering, squirting, pet names (doll face, baby, sweetheart), dry humping, dirty talk, ripping of clothes, confided spaces, brothers who share, oral (f!receiving), making out, hickies, nipple play, kinda exhibitionism (???), foursome, mention of breeding kinks, praise

notes: i imagine reader as black but i don’t think i used any physical description [repost!]

It was a tight fit. It had you rubbing your thighs together to calm the heat and aching throbbing between your legs. Crossing your ankles together you held your purse tighter and inhaled, trying to think of anything but your three bosses — but their presence was too powerful and overwhelming in this tight and suffocating elevator. Dirty and primal lust filled the air and you swallowed hard trying to ignore it.

They were all so tall, so lean and their muscular bodies took over all of the small space that you were confined in. Awkwardly rolling your hips, trying to ease your aches without being noticed, your body trembled a bit. Your stomach folded in as the mixed aroma of their colognes entered your nose — a musky smell of pine caused you to bite your lip.

The elevator was quiet besides the occasional rumbling but you couldn’t help but feel queasy, feeling as if they all were staring you down.

Quiet yet quick shuffling was heard before you noticed a tanned hand pressing yet another button. You tried to pay no mind to it until all at once the lights flickered and a loud bang started, you gasped aloud and backed back into a hard chest.

“S-sorry,” You stammered, pushing yourself off of whoever was behind you. You tried not to memorize the feeling that your hands felt of the muscular and broadness of his chest, your face felt hot and with the sudden change of temperature it was only worst.

“It’s fine, doll face.” Came the response of the one and only Jason Todd, his voice made you shiver with delight and the ache in your core returned again. Your blazer and tights making you feel stuffy and hot, as if you were wearing too many clothes. “You okay?”

You didn’t trust anymore of your voice but you nodded. Heat pooled between your legs listening to his deep and throaty voice and the nickname he bestowed upon you. Self fanning yourself a bit you looked off to the side, seeing Dick to your side, who winked at you.

“You’re looking pretty hot there,” Dick brought himself closer to your ear and blew a bit near your neck. He chuckled when you jumped back. “I don’t bite baby, you know, unless you like that kind of thing…” His piercing dark blue eyes scanned your face before eyeing your lips.

“No need to be scared.” Tim finally spoke up. You felt a shift in the air before he grabbed at your waist and pulled you in to his chest.

That’s when it clicked for you. Jason pushed the button to halt the elevator. As if reading your expression, their laughter shook the elevator. “Finally figured it out, yeah?” Jason’s eyes were equally piercing as Dick’s but it was the smirk and the white streak of hair that was making you fold.

“She’s been here, what..? About 3 months?” Dick quirked an eyebrow to him, who you felt nod against your shoulder. “Still haven’t noticed us… our stares… our conversations that we always try to rope you in… you just gave us nothing—”

“So we had to do something to get your attention.” Jason finished, bringing his calloused yet soft hands to caress your face, rubbing at your cheeks before removing your glasses from your face.

Grinding his hips against yours, Tim kissed the sides of your neck. Your breathing quickened with every tainting kiss before his mouth opened and then you felt pure wetness dripping down your neck. His thick long tongue licking up a pattern as he grinding himself more against you, you could feel how hard he was, how thick he was and just how big.

“I… I don’t understand…” You muttered, mainly to yourself. Trying to control yourself but your hips were already rutting against Tim’s, quiet moans leaving both of your lips.

“Shh…” Dick pressed a finger to your lips. “It’s nothing for you to understand. Just know… we’ve been thinking about this for quite some time now.”

“And we plan to make you understand every inch of it, baby.” Tim panted in your ear, you could feel his hands trailing up from your waist leaving a hot trail until he landed on your breast. “Jason, mind giving me a hand?”

It was almost too quick how Jason undid the buttons to your shirt, leaving both the shirt and blazer on, he was tempted to snap a picture. Looking at the position you were in made him want you even more. “So fucking beautiful.” He blew his breath on your nipples, watching them both get hard and erect.

He was never too big on sharing. But with his brothers? It was something different.

You yelped, feeling more heat hit your now bare legs as Dick stretched and ripped the flimsy fabric thighs you were wearing. He turned to look at Jason, “You owe me.”

With hungry eyes, Jason looked between your legs and sucked his teeth. “Fuck.” He groaned. Black lacy panties.

Was it wrong for the brothers to bet what type of panties you wore? Probably. But damn did it pay off.

Bumping his nose against your clothed clit at the same time that Tim tweaked your nipples you tried to move away from them, it was too much. “W-Wait!”

Jason moved closer to you and touched your face again, “Shh. It’s okay.” He cooed before he leaned towards, keeping his eyes on yours.

Everything happened all at once. Your eyes rolled back once you felt his tongue slither inside of your mouth with no warning, his brothers feeling you up it was almost too much for you to focus on — the rhythm of Tim’s hips, Jason’s tongue swirling inside of your mouth and Dick playing with your drooling covered pussy.

Jason applied pressure to your tongue before licking the insides of your mouth, both sides of the cheeks before he sucked on your tongue. Even with your eyes closed, you knew he was still staring at you. Each moan they pulled out of you, another one added pressure.

“Oh fuck,” Feeling Dick pulling your panties to the side and hearing him moan. Your slick wetness sticking to the black Lacy panties you were wearing. “Such a pretty mess down here.” He licked his lips. “Such a pretty little pussy, fuck, you like when I say talk to you down here baby?” As if the dripping all over wasn’t enough of an answer, he smiled before dipping his head down.

You held your breath, expecting him to get straight to the point. But instead, he kissed your thighs. Trailing deep kisses up and down, getting closer and closer to your clit every time. Your breathing uneven, Jason moved from your mouth to your breast, his teeth tugging on your dark nipples, still meeting your eyes.

Dick’s muffled moan drew your eyes to him. You watched as his wet tongue tugged at your folds before slurping up the juices that spilled out of you. Your legs were trembling and if it wasn’t for Tim, you would’ve fell over.

“You like what he’s doing to you, sweetheart?” Tim whispered. “Imagine what it’ll be like when I’m cumming inside of that pussy, you hear me? Matter of fact. When we’re all cumming inside of you, gonna birth a heir to this company, aren’t you?” He sucked on your ear lobe and your pussy tightened up when Dick tried to put his tongue inside of you.

“Don’t scare her off, Tim. He’s just playing around baby.” Jason told you, kissing the valley between your aching breast.

Parting the lips of your pussy with his fingers, Dick drove his tongue inside. “Oooh, I…” You we’re babbling. Wetness dripping on his face and even on his expensive shirt as he licked and slurped, nibbling on your puffy clit.

Tim didn’t like how left out he was, the brothers could see it on his face. With another long suck on your clit enough to make you even weaker on your knees, Dick rose up.

“W-wait I didn’t get to—” He covered your mouth with his, holding the sides of your face and massaging the breast that Jason was neglecting.

A sudden intrusion inside of your pussy made you moan aloud. You were so focused that you didn’t feel Tim parting you open for his fingers. “So fucking tight, right here. Such a small pussy. Can’t wait to break her in.” He purred, moving two of his fingers faster inside of you. His hips digging into yours, Jason now sucking on your throat. The gentle fiction from Tim’s slacks driving you even more crazy since his fingers are working too. Using his thumb, he pressed on your clit and dragged his thumb up and down adding pressure each time.

You were struggling to keep your balance. Your voice was hoarse as they had their way with you. Your entire body shaking while you whimpered against them, tightening up on Tim’s fingers and he groaned, stretching them inside of you.

With clenched teeth Tim told you, “Breathe. Fuck, sweetheart. It’s just me, just open up a bit more.” It was feeling good being stretched so good while two other boys felt you up with their hands and their mouths.

You were getting so dizzy. Your orgasm attempting to push through. You didn’t know how you didn’t come yet.

Licking up the pulse on both sides of your neck, Dick and Jason shared a look. You didn’t know what it meant until they both dropped to their knees and eyed your swollen clit.

“Oh you weren’t lying. I knew she’d be pretty. But this is truly a pussy, so smooth and bare.” Jason smirked, pulling your lips open, watching his brother’s fingers dipping inside. Then he moved forward and kissed your aching clit.

Your knees buckled and you threw your head back while Tim continued to hold you up and fuck you with his fingers. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Jason did a deep groan, putting your clit in his mouth and mouthing his head back before letting your clit bounce back before doing it again.

His tongue was putting in work, licking up and down your clit. Feeling another set of wetness you thrusted your hips forward, begging for more, not realized Dick had joined in on the assault of your pussy.

The strokes of their tongues plus Tim’s fingers moving and stretching you so deep, you rode out every feeling you possessed and when Tim pushed in deeper inside of your gummy walls that held him so tight, he pressed and circled your insides until he felt you clench harder than before.

It was the hardest you ever came, your limbs snapping, body shaking hard, babbling words and your pussy squirting out a clear liquid of slick on both of the boys below up, who happily drank it up. You felt drunk as you slid down to the ground.

With wild looks in their eyes, the brothers straightened themselves out, looking over your appearance. Dick pulled your blazer over you and Jason continued to rip the rest of your tights. Tim, got the elevator back on track.

The aftershocks of your orgasm still haven’t faded, your body still twitching and shaking. You could hear them talking to each other, “She’s completely fucked out. She won’t be able to go back to work like this.” Dick said.

“Can’t take her home or Bruce will have our heads for fucking with his best assistant.” Tim replied while Jason just laughed.

“Well,” Jason picked you up as if you weighted nothing. “I can always take her back to my comfy loft.”

Tim and Dick looked at him as if he was crazy. “So you could get started without us? Ha, very funny.” Tim snorted.

“Let’s just find her address on the company—” The elevator dinged and stopped, the doors opening to the person none of you wanted to see.

With wide eyes Bruce Wayne frowned at the sight. Putting a hand over his forehead he did a deep sigh, “Do I even want to know?”

The boys all shook their heads and Tim quickly pressed the button to the company garage. “Let’s just get something to eat first.”

“Works for me.” You yawned, looking dreamily at the three boys.

[celestialprincesse]

I don’t know if you are still taking requests, so if you aren’t, please ignore this!! a little while ago I saw something where a military spouse got in trouble for giving her husband a hickey because it was a “violation of government property.” I’m imagining this with Simon LMAO that man would DIE if this happened to him and you

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Everyone knows that you and Simon are together. Although the wedding bands stay hidden snugly between the fabric of your shirts and the skin of your chests, the tan lines remain on your ring fingers, only to be noticed by those who'd been trusted enough to be invited to your intimate ceremony. The two of you had spent months on edge after he'd proposed, always haunted by the looming threat of becoming leverage, a weak spot to be exploited.

That's why you're currently sat on the other end of the common room, curled up on a worn couch with a stack of reports on your lap, trying to ignore the thought of what you and Simon were getting up to last night, blowing off some steam after a long day of pent up frustration and energy. Maybe a little too much frustration, judging by the splotches of purple on Simon's neck when his mask rides up.

"You know," Price states from behind you, a wry, knowing smile crossing his warm features as he catches you clearly off guard, making you jump. "Technically that's a destruction of government property."

"What?" You mutter back incredulously, cocking a brow in confusion as you twist in your seat to face him, trying to school your features back into neutrality.

"Whoever decided to uh," He gives you a knowing glance, looking to the splotchy dark mark in the juncture between Simon's neck and shoulder, where you'd clearly gone a little further than initially realised.

"Bang up our boy there. Could get in serious trouble for that."

If your face wasn't burning with shame, maybe you'd have laughed rather than burying your face back into the stack of reports you'd been poring over, absolutely mortified at the thought of your captain, and probably the rest of the team, being aware of you and your husband's complete disregard for government property.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

[fratttymatty]

Surfed Up

*All characters are 18 or over*

Adam decided to go to the beach with his girl best friend, Freya, Kylie, Lily, and Michaela. He was a skinny twink-ish gay guy who was dating a boy called Joseph.

They arrived and set up their towels and cooler so that they could get comfortable. Adam pulled out his phone and sent a video snap to his boyfriend.

"Oh my gosh babe we're at the beach, SOO excited to get a tan and relax!" Adam said and sent to his boyfriend. Lily went into the ocean dragging Kylie with her.

A little while later and they both came back and he decided to eat one of the ice lollies in the cooler, not knowing the girls spiked it with a little bit of their dark magic.

As he ate it his muscles started to grow, filling out his skinny build. His hair started to get blonder, decreasing his brain cells. His t-shirt was practically bursting at the sides, and a shark tooth necklace was placed round his neck.

His hair parted itself down the middle and grew out into a flowy middle part, typical of surfer boys. His teeth perfectly straightened and so did his sexuality. He could only think about dating girls and being dominant towards them. He grew a tan which made himself dumber and his voice deepened astronomically. His eyes got bluer and his mouth gained a permanent cocky grin. Finally his personality got more cocky and confident, whilst also being pretty stupid and beachy, as well as his name changing from Adam to Adrian. All he wanted to do was surf.

After his transformation ended, he let out a long "Yoooo!" solidifying his transformation. He pulled out his phone and broke up with Joseph and quickly blocking him.

A surfboard magically appeared near his towel, which he picked up.

"Soooo, which one of you sexy girls is, like, mine ya know huhuhu?!" He said in a very cocky tone. Why would he need to worry about getting a boyfriend when he had 4 sexy girls in front of him that he would probably bang one later.

"Mee!" They all say in unison.

"So that means I'll bang you all later then lol!" He said again super cockily.

He proceeded to grab his surf board and do a surfer boy run to the water to surf his old life away.

(Sorry for being gone for so long whoops!)

[usedtobecooler]

live now, think later | steve harrington x afab!reader

a/n: thank you so much in advance to everybody who takes the time to read, reblog and comment on this fic. it's the first thing i've published in close to three months and i'm honestly a little nervous, i hope i've come back with a big enough bang! title is taken from think later by tate mcrae, and a massive thank you to @trashmouth-richie for making my header+dividers for me. 7.8k words.

summary: upon your arrival in hawkins to visit your old friend, eddie munson, his first idea is to drag you down to family video — where you ‘unintentionally’ meet steve harrington. a well timed deal, a fake friend date and a few drinks later, you find yourself in steve’s downtown apartment with lowered inhibitions.

warnings: sexual content 18+ minors dni, piv sex, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, bratting, spit kink, biting, hair pulling, very poor use of the pull out method. alcohol consumption, mentions of drug dealing and public heavy petting. no use of y/n and very minimal description of reader. eddie munson being eddie munson.

Eddie is all but dragging you into Family Video by your hand, the harsh metal of his rings digging into the webbing of your fingers as he pulls you in through the door.

Eddie Munson was easily the most excitable person you’d ever met in your life, and his sudden enthusiasm to get you into the video store is going to land you in the emergency room, because if he tugs you any harder your shoulder will detach from the socket. 

The buzzer above your head rings violently in an attempt to alert the staff that somebody has come in, and a mop of beautifully styled hair attached to an equally beautiful man comes into view as you edge closer to the rental counter.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie grins, loud and unabashed, "you got that new one with Meg Ryan in it? Heard she cums at a dinner table and lady luck over here is desperate to see it." 

He's sniggering as you pull away from him and smack at his arm hard enough that he lets out an indignant yelp. Your face is burning hot with embarrassment as the boy's eyes dart back and forth between you both, confusion etched on his face.

He - Stevie, apparently - raises an eyebrow at you both, taking in the disheveled and most likely chaotic scene in front of him, "You mean 'When Harry Met Sally'?"

"Majorly concerning you know what movie it is from the description of 'Meg Ryan cums at a dinner table'," you quip, mouth running away from you before you can even stop it. Your face somehow burns even hotter, Steve crossing his arms over his chest with a small smirk.

He's in a preppy little striped polo shirt under his green embroidered work vest, and god his arms are bulging. His skin is tanned golden, a product of the heat of an Indiana summer, freckles and beauty marks prominent on his face, trailing down his neck and dipping below the collar. 

You stare for a beat too long. Taking in the man in front of you, who looks very sure of himself. 

Eddie knows you all too well, Steve is absolutely your type, which makes your first encounter all the more mortifying. 

"It's my job to know all the new releases, honey." Steve's smile grows smug, and it's breathtaking how attractive you find it, "You're both shit out of luck, it's been on rent all week. Romantic night in, is it?" 

Eddie scoffs from beside you, and it takes everything in you to not be offended by how quickly the noise escapes him, "Yeah, she wishes. She's not my type at all, Harrington. Annoying, clingy, pisses too lo-"

"God, shut the fuck up," you're mortified, covering your face with your hands, "I've been in town less than a day, are you trying to get me ousted?"

Steve looks all too amused by the encounter, struggling to hold back a chuckle. His pretty eyes never leave you as he speaks, "Munson's deflecting, I already know you rejected him and he's taking it like a dagger to the heart." 

Eddie points an accusatory finger, "Take it back, fucker. I've never been turned down in my life." 

Steve quirks a brow at him, then turns his attention back to you. You squirm under his strong gaze, "Is that true, doll? I feel like he's lying." 

"I'm not getting involved in this dick swinging contest," you hold your hands up, trying in vain to ignore the silly little pet name that really does it for you, backing away from the counter slightly, "what are we even here for, Eddie?"

"I was just making sure me and Stevie here were still on for drinks tonight." Eddie glances at Steve, who looks as confused as you feel, “You wanna join us?"

You shoot him an incredulous look, "This feels like a set up."

Eddie smirks, "Why's that? Can't three pals all go out for a drink together? I want my two best friends to get to know each other."

You narrow your eyes playfully, glancing at Steve who seems to have gotten with the program, all signs of confusion gone from his face, "I'm not sure I trust you." You huff, turning to Steve and nodding back at Eddie, "What if he's just setting us up so he can bail and I'm stuck with you all alone, Stevie?"

Eddie feigns offense, "Now why would I do that? Besides, even if I did, you're a big girl. I'm sure you could bully Steve into leaving you alone."

You smirk back at him, "Fine. But if you and Steve start getting all lovey-dovey, I'm bailing and leaving you to pay the tab."

Steve barks out a laugh, "Don’t worry about me, I can behave myself. Same can’t be said for Munson, he takes one look at the Harrington ass and loses all inhibitions.” 

“It is beautifully round.” Eddie admits in defeat, hand clinging to his own flat ass, a ridiculously deep frown etched onto his features.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face and stays firmly put as you exit the video store, every nerve in your body buzzing when Steve winks in your direction when you depart.

The black lace bodysuit you wear clings to your curves nicely, the nip of your waist accentuated by your mom jeans. Eddie had even wolf whistled when he saw you, which was his nerdy way of saying you looked really fucking good.

As you pull up to the strip, Eddie slows down to a stop outside what looks like a dive bar, "I'm gonna drop you off here and go 'round back to park up the van, 'kay sweetheart? Steve's already in there."

Your eyes narrow, "I don't trust you, Munson. This feels like a set up."

Eddie holds his hands up, "It's not, I promise. I just need to go park the van and-" he trails off, sighs and rolls his eyes, "I have to go make a deal super quick. Don't want you there for that, this guy is sketchy."

You huff out a sigh, understanding him completely, Eddie really was a good guy who wouldn't put you in harms way. He knew leaving you with Steve momentarily was safer than taking you with him to a deal, and you trusted his judgment. 

"Okay," you agree eventually, making to hop out of the van, "but I swear, Eddie, if you don't come back, I'm gonna be pissed. You'd better be dead." 

Eddie holds up his hand in a scouts honor as if he was ever in the scouts in he first place, and you roll your eyes as you shove the creaky van door open and jump out.

"I'll be back soon, kiss Steve for me, will you?" Eddie jokes, grinning maniacally.

You stick up the finger and slam the door shut deliberately, making the walk around the side of the van before he can say anything in return.

As you make your way inside the bar, your mind races. Nerves and excitement are almost getting the best of you. Steve was just so cute, Eddie knew exactly what he was doing by introducing you both. 

The place is surprisingly cosy, pool tables dimly lit by orange colored lights. It’s reminiscent of a bar from back home, all hard wood and walls covered in various pieces of movie and alcohol paraphernalia. There are people scattered here and there, in booths and at the bandits, playing games of darts and billiards.

Steve's sat at the bar on an old vintage barstool, side on to you. He's dressed in a tight black t-shirt, washed out Levi jeans clung to his muscular legs and a pair of Adidas trainers with green stripes on his feet. He looked relaxed, floppy hair falling into his eyes. 

You were a goner already. 

As you approach the bar, Steve must sense your presence, as he looks up with a grin, "Hey! Where's Eddie?"

"Parking up the van," you smile, taking the stool next to him and jumping up onto it, trying to ignore the way your tits bounce very obviously with the motion, "I wouldn't bother ordering him a drink yet, though. He's, uh, occupied."

Steve's mouth opens in an understanding 'ah'. It was no secret how Eddie made money, and you were sure Steve had to be used to this by now.

The bartender comes over and you order some fancy cocktail on the menu that consists of Coke, dark rum and cherry liqueur. It comes with a Maraschino cherry on top, and you can't hide the excitement on your face as you take your first sip.

Steve watches you with an amused grin, "You look like you're enjoying that drink."

"Oh, I absolutely am," you reply all too quickly, "a day of Eddie's shenanigans are enough to warrant a good drink." 

Steve leans in closer to you, his eyes flickering over your body none too subtly, the charm ramping up with every sip of his Bud, "I think we’ve spoken far too much about Eddie for now. Tell me a little about yourself, honey."

Honey. There's that damn nickname again, enough to make you melt in a puddle off your barstool. There was no denying that Harrington knew what he was doing.

You shrug, going for nonchalant as you lock eyes, "Nothing to tell, really. I work in a little coffee shop during the day, and at night I guess I'm still trying to figure things out."

Steve nods in understanding, "What kind of things?"

You take another sip of your drink, relishing in the way it buzzes through your body, "Where I fit in the world, I guess. What I wanna do with my life in the long term. I’ve been in a rut for a while."

"I get that. Working in a video store in my mid twenties wasn’t really the plan set out for me, either." Steve responds with a furrowed brow, brutally honest, "Has Eddie told you much about me?" 

You consider, "Not really. Just that you're a ladies man and you’re forever swiping the ‘hottest babes in Hawkins’ out from under him, but you know Eddie, he's a bit. Theatrical." 

Steve chuckles, a flush on his freckled cheeks, as he leans in closer to you, "Between you and me, he's not wrong. Just haven't found the one to settle down with yet." 

At the close proximity, you can really take in Steve. He's all tanned skin covered in gorgeous beauty marks, a strong neck with prominent veins, muscular arms but clearly on the softer side like he didn't take it too serious. He was like a Greek statue, his nose like it was carved from the same stone. 

You flush, taking another - albeit larger - sip of your drink, swirling the ice in the glass, "So, do you pick up all the chicks in Family Video?" 

Steve smirks, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "You recommend a chick flick to a girl and it's like a moth to a flame." 

You do laugh at that, rolling your eyes fondly and nudging his shoulder with your own, "That's how you knew what movie Eddie meant! Romcoms are your strong suit for flirting purposes?" 

Steve's hazel eyes run over your face softly, his soft, pink lips jutted out slightly, "Would it have worked on you, if Eddie wasn't there?" 

Your breath catches in your throat, caught off guard by Steve's question, if only momentarily. "Yeah, I think so. Y'know, if it was actually the movie I was looking for and not an excuse for Eddie to mortify me." 

Steve grins, big and wide at that. Your faces are so close together that if he leaned forward just a smidge more you could rub noses. At this distance, you find yourself being drawn into his orbit, nudging closer to him subconsciously.

"Guess Eddie's bailed on us, huh?" Steve chuckles, moving back a bit and looking at the clock above the bar, the time ticking past an hour with no sign of Eddie coming back, "Or maybe it was his plan all along?"

"He's a schemer." You hum, watching curiously as Steve flags down the bartender and orders you both another drink. You try not to panic about the lack of cash in your back pocket, hoping the drinks weren't too expensive.

As your conversation dies down, your eyes are drawn back to his neck. It's covered in an array of moles and freckles, and you find yourself becoming almost mesmerized by it as he swigs from his beer bottle.

His neck is strong and muscular, tendons protruding as he gulps down the warm beer. The dusting of week old stubble adds to the masculinity of it all. It's a beautiful feature, one that you can't help but stare at with hazy eyes, and the markings scattered across his skin just make it more attractive.

Without even realizing it, your hand lifts, drawn to the smooth skin on the right hand side. You trace your fingertips along a particular set of the moles, shaped like carved out fang bites, feeling the texture against the pads of your fingers.

Steve looks at you, his darkened eyes filled with curiosity and something else entirely. You can't help but blush as you realize what you've been doing, only to find your fingers continue to roam across the skin anyway.

"Is my neck really that fascinating?" He teases, a slight chuckle falling from his lips.

You laugh lightly, trying to play it cool as your fingertips slip from the stubble roughened skin, dancing across the open collar of his shirt playfully before falling back to your glass, "Maybe it's just a bit distracting."

Steve smirks, that look in his eyes causing your heart to rabbit in your chest, "You know, I could get used to having your hands on me."

The huskiness in his voice catches you off guard, and you subtly clench your thighs together, aware of the fluttering in your gut as he leans in closer. 

You roll your eyes playfully, trying to cover your blush by raising your cocktail glass to your lips, "You're such a flirt." 

Steve only shifts closer at that, his shoulder bumping yours gently, "And what if I am?" He asks, lips so close to your ear that you can feel his hot breath dampen the skin, "You're the one with your hands all over me, honey." 

Your breath catches in your throat, a hot spike of heady need and want coursing through your body. It's a momentary slip, one that Steve no doubt catches immediately, "I never said I wasn't enjoying it."

Your voice is barely above a whisper, Steve's close proximity somehow narrowing further as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, "Trust me, honey. I know you're enjoying it, you've had those pretty thighs of yours clamped together for a moment now. Gotta relieve that ache, huh?"

You shiver visibly, goosebumps rising across your neck and down your arms, jolts of electricity coursing through your body. As if Steve can sense it, he lets his own - unfairly, painfully large, veiny - hand run over your thigh, just above the knee. He traces the curve of your thigh through your jeans, barely touching but it's enough to make you ache for more.

Two seconds or five minutes later, who knows, he pulls away from your ear. You gawk, unsubtle, as he takes a long sip of his drink as if nothing ever happened. He smacks his lips together, those hazel eyes landing on yours again, a playful smile on his lips, "Where were we again?" 

You try to play it cool, but your body is reacting to Steve, still reeling from the feeling of his touch all over you, "Uh. Um," you start, making yourself busy by tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "we were talking about our favorite movies, I think?"

Steve's face kind of screws up into a fake 'ah-hah!' as you blindly (and wrongly) fill in the blanks for him, seemingly completely unfazed by what just happened, "Right! You said your favorite of all time was Dirty Dancing, right?"

He’s making it up right before your eyes, playing along.  And it’s painfully unfortunate that he’s right without even trying, guessing your favorite movie right out the gate. It makes your brain go a little fuzzy. 

You take a deep breath, trying to focus on the conversation at hand. Even as Steve's own godforsaken hand continues to rest casually on your leg, his thumb running circles over your inner thigh, just above the knee, "Yeah, absolutely. Patrick Swayze, he's just swoonworthy."

You say it so casually, as if Steve himself didn't look like Swayze. More James Dalton than Johnny Castle, though. The hair, the tight black shirt, the jeans hugged perfectly to the swell of his ass and the curve of his muscular thighs. You had a type, clearly.

"Don't tell anyone, but Roadhouse is my favorite movie of all time." Steve grins, as if reading your thoughts from across the way, "Patrick Swayze, huh? Your type buff guys with a soft side?" 

"I would've thought me sticking around on this ‘date’ with you was enough of a giveaway on that front." You giggle, finally finding the courage to tip the last of your drink to your lips, swallowing it down in one fluid motion. You feel Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your leg, feel his eyes on you as you pretend not to notice.

You know you should move his hand away, but you can't bring yourself to do it. The feeling of his touch more intoxicating than the rum-filled drink you'd found yourself nursing, the hot feeling in your gut growing and growing the higher Steve's hand goes.  

"And here I was, thinking it was just my natural charm keeping you stuck in that seat." Steve says with a chuckle, running circles around your inner thigh like it's not making your insides squirm.

You roll your eyes, unable to hide your tipsy smile. There's just something about Steve, something so naturally charming that draws you in - he's confident without it being too much, and the way a stormy look swarms in his hazel eyes doesn't help with the physical pull you feel towards him.

The more he touches you, the more he looks at you, the more distracted you are by him. The alcohol coursing through your veins does nothing but amplify the warmth spreading through your body at his heavy petting.

He's beautiful, and you're blissfully comfortable in his presence, comfortable enough that the lull in conversation isn't even awkward. You look at each other through heavy lids, find yourself smacking your glossed lips together prettily, leaning your chin on your palm, elbow on the bar.

Finally, you speak, "So, do you always put these moves on your customers like this? Or am I special?" You drawl, teasing.

Steve leans in, his hand skating higher up your thigh, so close to the warm heat between your legs that you squirm a little, "Only the ones who make the moves first. You started this, remember?" 

Your heart rate kicks up a little more, and for a moment you forget where you are. All you can think about is Steve's wandering hand, the bedroom eyes he's giving you like he wants to devour you in public. You want nothing more than for him to pull you in for a kiss, to lose your inhibition and get lost in the heat of the moment. 

Somebody across the room begins hollering, crashing you back to reality, and it's a sobering reminder that there are dozens of people in this bar, who can see exactly what's happening right now. You clear your throat, shuffling back on your barstool a little, regretfully.

Steve's face falls, the flirty smirk gone in an instant, his hand dropping back down to your knee. You want to throw a tantrum like a little kid, tell him that it's not him, that you want it. Want whatever he's offering, just not here.

"We should maybe call it a night?" You offer, nodding towards the door, "I've probably gotta catch the bus back home, I know it leaves soon, so..."

You trail off and Steve nods, the disappointed look still on his face but a charming smirk gracing it once again, "Of course, I'll walk you over to the stop." 

Steve pays the tab like it's nothing, throwing bills and a nice tip on the bar for the guy who served you. As you leave the bar and walk out into the cool night air, it hits you fast just how much the drinks have gone to your head. 

"Hey, you okay?" Steve asks gently, a strong arm snaking around your waist. "My apartment isn't far from here, we can walk back there and sober up a bit? I can drive you home in a few hours." 

If it weren't for the fact you knew Steve, Eddie knew Steve, and he was known for being a decent guy despite his reputation, you'd have shot it down in a heartbeat. But, the opportunity to be in his presence a little longer was something you didn't want to give up.

And, honestly, you didn’t know which bus would get you back anywhere close to the trailer park, not knowing Hawkins from Adam. This was easily the safest option. 

You look up at him, snuggling into him on instinct, "Are you sure? I don't mind catching the bus, Steve. I'm a big girl, I can look after myself."

Steve beams at that, teeth shining as he looks down at you, his eyes fixed on yours, "You might be able to, but I wanna look after you tonight. And besides, I don't think either of us are ready for this to be over yet."

You hide your small laugh into his shoulder, unable to ignore the strong smell of cedarwood and bergamot wafting from his shirt, intoxicating in its own right. The giddy feeling that erupts in you is almost juvenile.

You walk down the streets quietly, taking in the pretty sunset that dims the strip in pretty pinks and oranges. There's a comfortable tension between you both, like you're both attempting to play it cool but the attraction is too strong to stop you from pulling into each other. He never once takes his hand off your waist, and that's a revelation all on its own.

Finally, you reach Steve's apartment, a cozy little bottom floor space. It's minimalistic, like a typical guy's apartment, but it feels homely. Smells like fresh laundry and the same aftershave you'd been smelling the entire walk over. 

Steve looks regretful as he untangles himself from you, throwing his keys down on a table at the front door, "Take a seat, honey. I'll go get you something to drink." 

It's all open planned, the entryway leading straight into the living room, where a simple leather sofa and matching lazy boy sit. You throw yourself down ungracefully on the sofa, tucking yourself into the corner with a leg pulled up under your opposite thigh. 

There's two pictures on a sideboard, one of Steve and Eddie with two women you don't recognize at what looked like an outdoor gig, amongst a crowd of concertgoers. Another with the Hellfire kids, who you wouldn't know if it weren't for Eddie. The lack of family pictures are telling, though you don't dwell on it.

"Lemonade okay?" Steve asks, a pitcher in hand and a few small cups in the other, "I mean, I do have whiskey and beer if you wanna keep the party going?" 

"Lemonade's great." Your voice is fond, unable to keep the smile off your face as Steve sets them down on the coffee table in front of you, looking so domestic it makes you ache.

Your eyes trail over the broad expanse of his back, his strong shoulders in that same tight tee, the way his moles and freckles even continue past the neckline. You wonder if he's covered completely, that same dull throb between your legs returning even as you sober up.

"Stop staring, you'll give me a complex." Steve drawls, not turning to look at you as he pours the cool lemonade into the glasses. You flush warm, averting your eyes. 

He throws himself down onto the sofa right next to you, body also tilted so that you're facing each other, though your legs touch, burning hot through layers of starchy denim.

"I'm sure plenty of girls have been caught staring at you over the years, Harrington." You counter eventually, mouth dry.

"None that looked quite as hungry for it as you do right now." Steve quips, that same flirty smirk on his lips as he hands you your drink, "I didn't say I didn't like it, though." 

Heat creeps up your neck, the need to take a drink intensifying. You do just that, sipping from the glass in your hand. 

Steve's a real handful, and the longer you spend in his presence, the less you know how to handle it. Your body reacting and taking over for your brain, any playful retorts dying in your throat.

"So," Steve starts, no doubt sensing your awkwardness, "tell me. How did you meet Eddie?" 

You pause for a moment, caught off guard by the question, "How did I meet Eddie?" You laugh a little, flippant, "Before he came to Hawkins to live with Wayne, he lived in my town. He came home last Christmas break and we met at a friend's party."

Steve raises an eyebrow, "A friend's party?"

You smile. "It's not a crazy story, just a guy we both knew at different times. We just clicked I guess, we have similar interests and he just has this way of making you feel comfortable and safe. I can see why you're friends, you're so alike in that way."

It's Steve’s turn to blush, a flush of pink spreading over his nose and cheeks cutely, "What a compliment. That's cool though, so you didn't know each other before he moved?" 

You shake your head, "Nah, he's a little older so we missed each other. But, our friend - Carter, told me this hilarious story about how he got kicked out of middle school that I've got to tell you..." 

You trail off, telling the story that Steve genuinely laughs at, this booming, goofy thing that is just so goddamn endearing. 

Steve listens intently, like he's genuinely interested. His gaze locked on yours, like he's trying to memorize every single thing you're saying. You don't miss his fond looks as you talk with your hands, gesturing wildly as you tell the story. 

And then, without warning, he leans in with a strong hand on the side of your neck, fingertips sliding into your hair. 

He gives you enough time to pull back, a moment to say no that you choose not to take. His lips brush yours, soft and tender at first until you're melting into his touch, deepening the kiss with a surge of your body. 

His hand almost engulfs your neck, thumb running gently over your trachea as your chest rolls into his, desperate to get closer. The light smacking sounds of wet lips making you light headed, your hand coming out to tug at the material of Steve's shirt to steady yourself.

Steve's tongue slithers out to swipe your bottom lip and you're a goner, climbing ungracefully into his lap, knocking him back against the sofa. He lets out a startled huff, both hands coming out to bracket your waist when you allow him entry into your mouth. 

It's raw, messy and a little bit gross. Steve tastes like beer and a tang of the lemonade he'd been sipping, a hint of something else under there, a heady cinnamon. It's intoxicating, more than the drinks you'd nursed in the bar, and you find your hips rolling down into his on instinct, desperate to show him how much you wanted him.

He grunts, hands rocking you and helping you along. He's not hard yet, not at all, but the way he's moving your body is clear enough that he's into it as your tongues slip back and forth. He pulls back a little, the kiss becoming light and you let him guide you.

"Sorry, I just," Steve looks up at you with wild eyes, hair fanned out around his face where he lies back against the sofa, "I couldn't help it. You're so kissable, y'know that?"

“Don’t say sorry,” you scold playfully, smirking down at him, “you have my permission to do what you want. Anything you want.”

His hand wanders over your breast teasingly, light touches that you can barely feel through the layers of bra and shirt over your taut nipple, enough to have you arching into the touch in a silent plea for more.

Steve chuckles, deep and mischievous, clearly enjoying how your body melts under the simplest of grazes. It’s clear as day that he doesn’t give one singular fuck as to how desperate you are, pleased and satisfied taking his time with you.

Your hands entangle in his thick chestnut hair, tugging roughly at the root until Steve is moaning, hand faltering to skate down your stomach. Landing on the button of your jeans, but not moving. 

“Steve.” You groan, impatient, “Don’t frustrate me or I’ll do it myself. Please?”

Steve tsk’s, his pearly whites gleaming in the low light as he smirks at your desperation, “You don’t like it slow?” 

You roll your eyes, tugging his hair again, using it as reins to grind down into him, the heat of your cunt enough to have him grunting quietly. “Slow is boring. Slow means careful. I don’t want you to be careful with me, Steve. Show me how desperate you can be, show me how desperate you are for me.” 

Steve’s eyes flash so dark they’re near black, the sweetness still lurking vanishing in an instant. He gives you one last squeeze to your ass before he’s using both hands to practically rip the button of your jeans, fingers slipping into the tight denim and beneath the satin of your panties. 

“I’ll show you, you impatient brat,” he grunts, fingertips sliding between your folds and his eyes roll back at the feeling, “like fucking velvet, honey. You’re so wet, how long you been like this for me?”

“Somewhere between entering the bar and you touching my thigh.” You breathe, crying out when his pointer and middle finger slide into you at once, a blissful stretch that takes your goddamn breath away. 

“So easy for it.” Steve coos, and it would be offensive if it weren’t for the way he looks at you with honey swirled irises, soft at the edges despite the bite of his words. 

The hand not preoccupied with your cunt grips for your throat, thumb pressing into your pulse point as Steve surges forward to capture your lips once again. It’s rough, intimate, the graze of Steve’s stubble rubbing your chin raw as he bullies his tongue into your mouth. 

Your brain short circuits, his tongue reducing you to a bumbling, sobbing mess as you grind down into his palm, clit catching and rubbing against the dry skin in the most painfully beautiful way. 

The air is thick with sexual tension, thicker than the strands of hair you pull and tug at, thicker than the outline of his cock that you can feel digging into the fat of your inner thigh. 

“That’s it,” Steve mumbles against your lips, the pads of his fingertips rubbing against that little bump on your frontal wall that has your hips jumping forward of their own accord, “don’t hold back, honey. Let me hear you fall apart for me.”

It’s domineering. He’s fully in control and you’re letting him as you rut against the palm of his hand, sweat coating your brow as you fuck your hips against him, desperate to reach the edge. 

The plushness of his lips kiss down your jaw, to your throat where he latches on and sucks his mark into your skin. Sure to be a beautiful purple bloom in the morning, a temporary reminder that he was there. You want to beg for more. 

So you do. 

“Mark me like I’m yours.” You cry, whimper, even. Your body runs hot, goosebumps erupting on your skin as your impending orgasm starts to build. 

You swear you feel the smirk against your flushed throat. Steve latches onto you again, this time lower down, wider. You pull his hair, sighing contentedly as he suckles, nibbles at your tender flesh to produce yet another mark. 

His hips jump up against yours, a momentary slip that makes you want to plead for his cock, your brain so fuzzy with the need to rut and fuck that you’re about to give up the orgasm you’re so close to getting. 

“You’re clenching so tight around my fingers, baby,” Steve moans, kissing soothingly over the thumping ache of a bruise he’s left on your neck, “you gonna cum for me?” 

The white hot flashes of want and hunger you feel prickle up your back only intensify with his words, the end in sight as you ride against the palm of his hand feverishly, your clit sliding beautifully over the flesh. 

Your orgasm rips through you like a fucking knife to the stomach, your fingers gripping and pulling Steve’s hair so tightly that his head snaps back with the sheer force. You sob wetly, riding his fingers with jerky hips as he fucks you through it, eyes bleary but focused enough to see the hungry way he looks at you falling apart for him, soaking your panties and his fingers in the process. 

“You needed that one, huh?” Steve coos, mocking you lightheartedly as his fingers deftly slip from inside of you. You try your best to ignore the way it makes you feel empty. 

You nod dumbly after a moment, the whooshing in your ears beginning to fade out. You collapse into his chest with a small, contented sigh.

It takes only a mere few seconds for you to get with the program once more, kissing tenderly at Steve’s mole flecked neck, burying in to nip with your teeth hesitantly. Your hips move like they have a mind of their own, grinding down into the incredibly prominent bulge that rests hard against his zipper.

He grunts, hips thrusting up into yours as you move in some sort of slow, aching rhythm. His wide hands practically engulf your waist, fingertips digging into soft, supple flesh to help you rock your tired body against his own. 

It feels so fucking good, your body reacting to his in a way that was genuinely concerning, the primal need to fuck and have him inside of you taking over any kind of inhibition you previously had. He feels big, thick and hot nestled between your folds through two layers of rough denim, and the desperation ramps up.

You whine, pathetic into his salty, sweat damp skin, “Need more. Need you inside me, Steve.”

Steve groans like he’s in pain, hips jerking up involuntarily like they have a mind of their own, knocking you both out of the rhythm, “You sound so pretty when you beg. I’ll take care of you, honey. Knock you dumb just like you need.”

The sound you make is so pathetic that you instantly bury your face tighter into his skin, fingernails biting at the back of his neck. Steve’s hands are under your ass in a second, gripping to your thighs as he flips you onto your back on the sofa, muscular thighs spreading your legs impossibly wide as he buries between them.

“You need these off.” He grunts, pulling at the baggy denim of your jeans with rough fingers. You barely have the coherency to lift your ass up to help him wriggle you out of the offending material, body practically limp after the bone melting orgasm he just gave you with practiced ease.

“This too?” He asks gently, reaching for your top. You nod, lifting yourself up so he can slip it over your head, leaving you in only your bra and panties. 

You don’t wait for him to ask before you’re unclasping your bra, pulling that off so that your tits are bared too. They look great, your best feature if you did say so yourself, so it wasn’t exactly a difficult decision to make. 

He marvels at you for a second too long, taking in the sight of your body laid out below him, and those stormy eyes of his look deeper yet again – he looks hungry. Instead of it making you self conscious, it only spurs you on.

You wrap your legs around his torso, thick thighs pulling him in until he’s losing his balance and having to lean one arm out against the arm of the sofa to brace himself over you. The gold of his chain dangles close to your mouth, cooling the plumpness of your bottom lip with every gentle sway. 

“Down, girl,” Steve scolds, though that cocky smirk still graces his features and makes him look so painfully hot it makes your pussy flutter, “I gotta go get a condom.” 

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “And risk ruining the moment? You’re clean, right?”

Steve nods, that cock-sure confidence faltering for a second, “Are you?”

You nod, biting at your bottom lip, “Haven’t done this for a while, big boy. You think you have the restraint to pull out in time?” 

Steve shudders visibly at your question, a heady whimper escaping his lips, “I can try my best, but no promises, honey. I felt how tight and soaked you were around my fingers, if you feel too good I’m not responsible for the consequences.”

You let out a shaky laugh, though it cuts off into a moan when Steve lifts himself up and away from your body for long enough to stretch his arms behind his neck, pulling his shirt off from the back of his head with one fluid movement. 

He’s a marvel. The moles and beauty marks extend the entire way down his torso, even below his belt line, arms sculpted beautifully and his tummy muscular yet still soft. He’s everything, your belly flutters looking at this fucking perfect man sat between your spread thighs like some sort of Greek marble statue.

“Holy. Wow.” Your mouth is dry, your hands having a mind of their own yet again – just like in the bar – and coming out to touch and squeeze the flesh of his torso. Steve smirks, like he knows what you’re so hung up about, arching into your touch. 

He allows you the seconds of indulgence before it’s back to business, his fingers making light work of his belt and jeans as he regrettably departs his space between your naked legs to push the material down his legs and away from your bodies. 

His dick is so heavy that even though it’s fully hard, it doesn’t slap against his tummy, hanging slightly forward with its own weight. He’s big. Alarmingly big. And did you mention thick? Really thick.

God. He was going to be a stretch.

Steve grins sheepishly, settling back between your legs hesitantly. He makes to speak, but you stop him in his tracks; 

“You’ve not gotta be gentle,” you reassure, reminding him of your words before he dipped his hands into your panties just minutes ago, “fuck me like you mean it.”

Steve groans, burying his face into your neck as he lines himself up with your cunt and pushes in with one fluid motion. It knocks the breath out of the both of you for a moment, and you whimper pitifully at the gorgeous, burning ache of him stretching you out to fit him perfectly. 

“Holy shit,” He breathes, panting into your neck, “so fucking tight for me, honey.” 

You preen at Steve’s words, arching into his torso and somehow pushing him in even deeper. He had no idea just how much it stroked your ego to hear those words, no idea that it turned your insides into goo to know you were doing so good for him before it even started.

He rolls his hips into yours, the wet heat of your cunt gripping him, and you pant like an animal in heat when the subtle movement causes the coarse hair nestled in his mons to catch onto your sensitive clit. 

Your hips wriggle a little after a moment, a sign to let him know it’s okay to move, and Steve takes that subtle movement and runs with it — pulling out only to slam back in again, knocking your body up the couch.

It’s maddening. Your body runs hot with want and desperation, insides molding to the shape of his – quite frankly, annoyingly big - dick with each thrust, driving you absolutely insane in the process. The cut head rubs against that damn spot each time, and you know he’s going to tip you over for a second time all too soon.

“Fuck.” You cry, hands coming up to bury in his mane of hair once again and tug him down, “Fucking — how does it feel to be Gods favorite?”

Steve grins, mischievous and lust bitten around the edges as he sinks into your cunt with a quickening pace, “Stroke my ego baby, I love it.”

“Don’t get cocky, Stevie. Or I’ll just shut my mouth.”

The grin turns salacious, a large hand coming out to wrap along the expanse of your throat, just resting and not pushing, thumb caressing the side of your neck soothingly, “Don’t you wanna be good for me, honey? Or are you bratting so that I’ll give you what you really crave?” 

You whimper involuntarily, and that's all the confirmation Steve needs to really drive into you. Your back arches so that your torsos flush together, and he snakes a hand beneath the curve to grip onto your waist from below. 

“Oh my God!” You moan, body jolting at the change of angle. You’re turned into a babbling mess, fingernails digging into each of Steve’s biceps as he fucks you deep, rough enough to leave a mind numbing sting that you swear you feel in your damn throat. 

He’s looking at you with this wild expression, eyes wide like he’s drinking you in, watching each emotion he evokes from you with his body, “That’s it, taking me so fucking good. You like being fucked like a whore, honey?”

You nod, knocked dumb, mouth hung open like a pliant slut, a constant steady stream of whines and shuddering gasps falling from parted lips with each deep slide of his cock inside of you.

“You trust me?” He whispers, lips hovering just mere centimeters from your own, and you nod again, going cross eyed. 

A drop of saliva hangs from Steve’s pursed lips, sliding down into your open mouth and onto your tongue. You cry out, pathetic and desperate as you swallow down the spit like it’s cool water on a hot summers day. 

Steve shudders against you, hips slamming into you as his thrusts become erratic. You pray his apartment is somewhat soundproof, for all you can hear is the wet slap of skin on skin mixed with dirty moaning and pitiful cries.

“You’re perfect,” Steve mutters, sloppily kissing your lips before moving back to your jaw, worrying the flesh between his teeth like he can’t help it, “a fucking dream, honey. See how you’re ruining me?” 

You don’t get a chance to reply before he’s dropping your body back onto the sofa, his thumb swiping over your clit in a desperate attempt to get you there before he does.

It’s all too much. Your body runs hot, static surging up your back, hot in your gut as he works you over. You have to clench your eyes shut, painfully aware of his sculpted body gleaming with sweat, the swivel of his hips as his cock buries deep into you. 

Your second orgasm hits you just as hard as your first, your legs shaking and cunt clenching sporadically as it washes over you like a fiery inferno, gasps and wet cries of Steve’s name and other incoherent nonsense spewing from your lips. 

“Oh shit, holy fuck, baby you feel so – so good, god I’m gonna cum,” Steve shallowly fucks into you, jerky and desperate, “where do you want me to– fuck!” 

You open your eyes within enough time to see Steve pull out of you, sloppily tugging at his cock two, three times before he’s spilling all over your stomach. Hot spurts of it cover you from your belly button the whole way to your chest, and you swear you’ve never seen a man cum so much in your damn life.

It’s so hot. Being branded by ropes of cooling semen, sparking over finger bitten skin and bruises made by warm and heavy lips. 

There’s a long second afterwards, where Steve sags heavily against the couch as his dick softens, both of you panting and trying to catch a breath. 

“I’ll be right back,” Steve’s voice shocks you out of the contented post-orgasm haze, his hand squeezing your inner thigh gently as he gets up from where he’s perched, off in search of what you don’t know.

He reappears with a wet washcloth, and it’s all very domesticated as he wipes you down gently with the cool towel, fingers gentle against your sore skin in a stark contrast to just moments earlier.

You’re both completely naked still. This should be strange, but it doesn’t feel that way. Steve makes you feel painfully at ease and that’s something your orgasm fogged brain can’t comprehend or bear to think about right now.

“This might be a bit presumptuous, but,” Steve hums, inspecting your body to make sure he’s cleaned you down good enough for his liking, smirking as you squirm under his gaze, “do you wanna stay the night? It’s really late and, uh, well I don’t wanna kick you out after that. It was a bit intense.”

Your eyes are bleary. Fuck. He’s going to ruin you for anybody else.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Your voice is soft, quiet as you rise from the soiled sofa to sit up properly, “You’ll need to call Eddie, let him know I’m okay.”

“I think he knows you’re all good,” Steve grins sheepishly, helping you to your feet and tugging you close as soon as you’re up, “I might’ve called him when I was in the kitchen earlier, let him know you were here to sober up.” 

You roll your eyes with a small smile, leaning into him with a heavy sigh, “You better have a comfy bed.”

“The comfiest.” Steve confirms, dragging you gently towards the door, “I also have a really big shower, and really good water pressure, so…” 

“Oh my God, I’m never leaving.” You mumble into his chest, giggling playfully when he lifts you up ever so slightly with his muscular arms and knocks the bedroom door shut behind you. 

part 2?

[tetsuskei]

notes: a repost of my fave fic for my fave freckled faced boy ♡

“stay still.”

you playfully pinch ace’s side before reaching back up to focus on what you are doing.

“ow,” he whines, feigning pain. he tilts his head back, looking up at you with a small pout and puppy eyes, “that hurt.”

you only laugh at his dramatics, grabbing his jaw before tilting his head back to level. “i said stay still. or you’ll end up with a ridiculous bob, dummy.”

the scissors in your hands carefully move through his black locks, snipping away dead ends and restoring health back into his hair.

“you wouldn’t dare.” he warns, glaring at you in the mirror.

a smirk crosses your face, “and maybe i would.”

this is routine for both of you, cutting ace’s hair. you try to keep up with it frequently (he has surprisingly fast growing hair). a lot of times he’d go however, not really caring about it and doing whatever (meaning nothing). but you’re always able to recognize when his locks are getting a little too shaggy.

it never really bothers you to do it. in a way, it’s small intimacy time for the both of you.

it’s a rare sight — ace without his hat on or necklace fresh after a bath as he sits—more so squirms—on a stool. his wavy locks are slightly damp from washing. you get to peak at his broad, tanned shoulders. they’re decorated with all kinds of freckles, like little jewels on his skin.

ace is thankful. never used to having someone care for him in this way. he feels pampered. his brown eyes are always large and filled with admiration when he watches you cut his hair, your face cute in concentration.

he’s never afraid or shy of any physical contact with you, but when you get close up to him, holding his face in your hand to trim his bangs just right, he feels a little skittish in his tummy. he’s already a naturally hot running person, so he feels he must be scalding when this happens.

this game you two play is cunning. you always pretend not to notice his staring, while he is vying for your attention, chasing after your glances when your eyes happen to meet a few times.

if there’s one thing about fire fist, he’s competitive. he won’t stop till he’s won.

“can i kiss you?” he blurts, gaze intense.

a shocked look appears on your face before you laugh, “what’s gotten into you?”

“you just…look so pretty when you’re concentrating…and i can’t help it. not any longer at least.” he admits sheepishly.

you feel heat in your cheeks but recover from his words, “tell you what, if you let me finish what i’m doing, i’ll let you kiss me.” you offer.

“i’m your boyfriend, why do i have to wait?” ace whines and complains, but you only poke his cheeks before smooshing them between your hand.

“listen you stubborn fool, i promise i’m almost done. i think you can manage till then.”

“fyne,” he grumbles, cheeks still puffed.

you resume your work, but it’s not long before his hands dance on your waist, fingers tracing your skin and marveling over the softness of it.

the snipping pauses, “ace, what are you doing?”

“you didn’t say i couldn’t touch you.” he argues, sniffing.

you don’t say anything and just shake your head. he’s lucky he’s really cute.

eventually you find yourself being near wrestled by the commander as he progressively pulls you into his grasp. you’re finishing up his bangs by this point. practically on his lap with a hand on his shoulder as you steady yourself.

ace is glad you don’t tease him for being a blushing mess. but at the same time he feels like he’s going to die. he’s going to implode if he doesn’t get your full attention in the next several seconds.

“…and done.” you say, snipping the last lock.

“finally.” he sighs, crushing you into his arms impossibly closer to him. you yelp when the scissors fall out of your hands.

“a-are you even going to look at my final work?” you huff, feeling him pepper kisses on your cheeks, chin, nose—anywhere he can reach. you can barely move.

“don’t need to. you did wonderful, babe.” he responds, chuckling.

admittedly you did do good. really good. he doesn’t look so boyish now. more grown up. mature. his hair is only a tad bit shorter but shows all his best features that were hidden away. the apples of his cheeks decorated by freckles, his sharp, defined jaw, and his brown eyes you love so much can all be seen with ease.

ace has always been pretty and you don’t know if he’s well aware of that. so you turn his face towards the bathroom mirror.

he protests once his lips miss your cheek, almost looking like a fish with the way they pucker. he doesn’t have a chance to ask anything when your next words stop him.

“look how beautiful you are, ace,” you say, beaming, “you look so handsome.”

the man turns from pink to absolutely beat red, not expecting your words so suddenly. he curses under his breath since he can’t hide behind his hat. “wha—why are you…?”

when his eyes meet yours in the mirror he sees the soft twinkle in your eyes that you give only him, no one else. like he’s put up the stars in the sky for you. like he’s built you an entire empire by hand.

he’s silent, knowing you’re not lying about your words.

“…thank you.” he finally says, burying his face in your neck. his voice is small with vulnerability that only you have seen and heard. there’s a thousand things he wants to say right now, but the words won’t come out.

“you don’t need to thank me for loving you.” you respond, bumping noses with him before finally kissing him on the lips.

and it’s times like these where he figures life is something he’s meant to be living.

[luckyroll3]

Save a Horse; Ride a Cowboy

Summary: On a month-long sabbatical from your stressful New York life, you escape to a remote Australian cattle station, only to meet Chan—a cocky, womanizing cowboy with no interest in commitment. The chemistry is instant, and soon you’re swept into a wild, no-strings-attached fling. He’s charming, carefree, and exactly the distraction you’re looking for. As your time on the ranch draws to a close, so does your steamy affair, leaving you refreshed… but will you be able to leave him behind? You’re not so sure.

Fuck Boy Bang Chan x Reader (f); Fling, Smut

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, smut, etc.

The first-class seat envelopes you like a cocoon as you sip champagne and watch the clouds drift by, miles from the suffocating bustle of New York City and the endless briefs, contracts, suits and other things you deal with as a corporate lawyer for a Fortune 500 company. You let out a long exhale, the stress already beginning to melt away. An eternity later, the Sydney airport materializes below, and you step into the blinding Australian sun, squinting as you make your way to the rental car. 

The GPS guides you into the heart of the outback, red dirt and scrubby bush stretching endlessly on either side. Sweat beads on your forehead as the AC sputters its last breath. Suddenly, the engine lets out a prolonged groan and the car rolls to a stop, steam billowing from the hood. 

"No, no, no..." You bang on the steering wheel before getting out of the car to pop the hood. You tap frantically at your phone. No service. Of course there’s no fucking service, you think to yourself as you toss the phone back into your bag. According to the GPS, the ranch is still 15 miles away. 

You sit on the scorching trunk, the heat of the metal dampened through your jeans, scanning the shimmering horizon for any sign of life. One hour passes, then two. Your mouth feels like sandpaper, your water bottle long since drained. As the sun climbs higher, a figure appears in the distance, barely a speck against the vast blue sky. It grows larger, taking the shape of a horse and rider. The horse canters closer until it towers above you, its coat glistening with sweat. Your eyes travel up the muscular legs of the rider, past slim hips and a broad chest, to settle on a face that makes your breath catch. 

You hear him say your name, watching as his pink, full lips form each syllable. His Australian accent makes the pronunciation sound sexy. 

“That’s me,” you answer. “And you are?” You use your palm as a make-shift visor to block the blinding glare cast by the bright ass sun as you look up at him, your eyes taking in his features. Those gorgeous pouty lips are accompanied by a strong jawline, a broad nose, and beautiful deep brown eyes that stand out against his tan skin. The face shaded beneath the wide-brimmed cowboy hat is absolutely breathtaking.

He swings down from the saddle in one smooth motion. "I'm Chan, the foreman," he says with a vibrant, dimpled grin. "We were getting worried when you didn't show up on time." 

His gaze rakes over you, taking in your flushed cheeks and the way your tank top clings to your curves. You feel stripped bare under his appraisal, heat rising under your skin that had nothing to do with the relentless sun. There is a glint in his eye, a confidence bordering on arrogance, that both unnerved and thrilled you.

"Car trouble," you reply, struggling to keep your voice even as you state the obvious. "I don't suppose you could give me a ride?"

Chan's lips quirk. "I think I can manage that." He holds out a hand, pulling you up off the car with surprising strength. "Ever ridden before?"

"Oh, I’ve ridden before,” you joke with a smirk, “just not a horse.” You swing your backpack onto your shoulders as the sound of Chan’s hearty laugh echoes through the air, his head thrown back in amusement. 

“Okay, then. Let’s get you on.” He gives you a quick lesson on how to mount the horse, instructing you where to place your hands and guiding your foot into the stirrup. With his strong hands grasping your waist firmly and steering you, you mount the horse. The leather of the saddle creaks under your thighs. After checking to make sure you are situated and comfortable, he effortlessly hops onto the horse directly in front of you. "Hold on tight then," he instructs as he throws a wink over his shoulder. "And enjoy the view."

You tentatively wrap your arms around his waist, fingertips brushing against the hard planes of his abdomen. As the horse lurches forward, you instinctively tighten your grip, your chest pressing against Chan's back. Even through his shirt, you can feel the heat of his skin, the flex of muscles as he nudges the horse forward. The rocking motion of the gallop jostles you against him in a way that feels almost indecent. You try to create some space between your bodies but Chan only chuckles, the vibration rumbling through you. 

"Relax, city girl. We've got a ways to go." He readjusts your arms around his body, bringing you back to the position you were in initially before you tried to distance yourself. 

His words held a suggestion that makes your pulse quicken. The scrubland blurs into streaks of ocher and sage as you surrender to the rhythm, to the solid warmth of Chan's body against yours. By the time the ranch comes into view, nestled in the shadow of a rust-colored mesa, your thighs ache and an unfamiliar tension coils in your core. Chan swings down and reaches up to help you dismount, his hands firm on your waist. For a charged moment, you are suspended against him, close enough to see the golden flecks in his eyes, to feel his breath ghost across your lips. Then your feet hit the ground, and the spell is broken.

"Welcome to Wandalla Station," Chan says, his voice husky. "Let me show you around." 

As he leads you past the weathered barns and corrals, you can't shake the feeling that you’d signed up for more than you bargained for. But as you sneak a glance at Chan's profile, the way his shirt stretches across his shoulders, the way his jeans cling to his round ass, the way he walks with a certain swagger, you find yourself craving the adventure. New York and its pressures feel worlds away. Here, under the endless outback sky, anything seems possible.

He leads you down a gravel path towards a small cottage. “I’ve sent someone with the tow truck to get the car and I’ll call a mechanic in the morning. You should have your luggage within the hour, but if there’s anything you need in the meantime, let me know.”

“I should be fine. Thanks.”

“This is you. There’s cold water and fizzy drinks in the refrigerator.” 

You nod as you set your backpack on the table. “Thanks for the rescue.”

“Not a problem. I’m looking forward to having you with us over the next month.” He flashes his smile again before heading back out. “Dinner’s at 7:00,” he calls over his shoulder as the door shuts behind him. 

***

Over the next week, you try to throw yourself into ranch life, eager to embrace the change of pace. But it quickly becomes clear that your city skills are of little use here. The first time Chan takes you out to muster cattle, you can barely stay in the saddle. The horse seems to sense your inexperience, tossing her head and sidestepping skittishly. You’re pretty sure she gives you a side-eye. 

"Easy there, city girl," Chan calls, reining his mount effortlessly beside you. "You've got to show her who's boss."

His tone is teasing, but there's a glint in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine. 

“I’m pretty sure she knows she’s the boss.” Chan smirks at your joke. 

You grip the reins tighter, determined to prove yourself. Chan reaches over, his hand covering yours.

"Like this," he murmurs, guiding your hands. His touch is electric, lingering a beat longer than necessary. "You'll get the hang of it soon."

And slowly, you do. The days take on a rhythm of their own - early mornings, the scent of eucalyptus on the breeze, the lowing of cattle. You learn to appreciate the burn of your muscles after a long day, the satisfaction of a job well done. 

And always, there's Chan. 

He's never far, his presence a constant pull. He flirts as easily as he breathes, his charm as natural as the landscape. You watch him joke with the jackaroos, see the way the station hands, male and female, hang on his every word. And when his gaze finds yours across the paddock, you feel the heat of it like a brand.

"Looking good out there," he says one afternoon, leaning against the fence as you brush down your horse. It’s taken the entire week, but she’s finally come around to liking you, just a little bit. But you’ll take what you can get. "You might make a proper jillaroo yet."

You roll your eyes, but you can't suppress a smile. "I thought I was just a ‘city girl’."

Chan grins, slow and devastating. "Oh, you are. But I've got a feeling about you. I think you might be fun."

Fun? you say to yourself, wondering how he’s defining the word, wondering what actually constitutes being fun in his eyes.

He saunters closer, reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers graze your cheek and your breath catches. For a suspended moment, you're caught in his orbit, drowning in the depths of his eyes and dimples. 

Then he steps back, the spell broken. He picks up the saddle and begins walking towards the barn. "Drink later?” he asks over his shoulder. “The crew's heading to the pub. I'll save you a dance?" His eyes meet yours.

You nod, not trusting your voice. As he walks away, you breathe out slowly, your skin tingling where he touched you. 

You know you're playing with fire. Chan's reputation precedes him - the love 'em and leave 'em type, a heartbreaker with a trail of conquests, a literal fuck boy. But out here, with the red dirt beneath your feet and the vastness of the sky above, consequences feel far away. 

That night at the pub, the crowd is lively; there are workers from the ranch as well as locals from town. You perch at the bar, watching Chan work the room. He's magnetic, laughter trailing in his wake. When he catches you looking, he winks, that damnable dimple flashing. 

As the live band plays, you watch Chan dance with a few girls. As he thanks one girl and she walks away, another swoops in to take her spot. He sways with each of them, their bodies grinding against his as he guides them expertly through the moves. He’s a great dancer. Your body aches to be next to him, to feel his touch.

Eventually, he finds his way over to you, leaning casually against the bar in front of your stool. 

“How’s your night going?”

You take a sip of your beer, savoring the cool liquid as it slides down your throat. "Not bad. Though I think I'm still adjusting to outback nightlife." 

Chan chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "What, this isn't like your fancy New York clubs?" 

"Not quite," you laugh. The pub is crowded and noisy, music blaring from the speakers now that the band is packing up. The air is thick with the scent of beer and sweat. She hasn’t been to a place like this since law school. "But it has its charms." 

"Oh yeah?" Chan leans in closer, his voice dropping low. "And what might those be?" 

Your eyes meet his, and the intensity you find there makes you clear your throat. You're suddenly aware of how close he is, the heat radiating from his body. "Well," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady, "Good music. Cold beer. And…the company's not bad either." 

Chan's grin widens. “Well good then.” He finishes his beer and turns to face the bar. “Lia honey?” You turn to see he’s referring to the pretty brunette bartender at the other end of the bar, currently handing off two full pitchers or beer. 

“Another one?” she asks as she walks to the register to deposit the cash she was just handed. 

“Yes, ma’am. And I’m covering her tab,” he points his thumb in my direction.

“Got it.”

Chan returns his gaze to me. “Anything you want, it’s on me.”

“Thanks. So do you do this for all the ranch guests.”

“Not at all.” He leans in to whisper in my ear. “Just the ones I find incredibly sexy.”

“Here you go, Chris.” Lia slides him another bottle of beer. 

“Thanks, mate,” he says without breaking his eye contact with you. 

“I guess I’ll take that as a complement,” you respond when Lia walks away. 

“You should. You are incredibly hot, city girl.” He brings the bottle to his lips, taking a large gulp. He licks beer from his lips before another devastating grin crosses his face. 

You try to think of a response, but you’re a bit flustered. Instead of speaking, you sip your beer. Chan notices and chuckles at the effect he’s having on you. 

“Channie!” someone calls from the pool table. “You’re holding up the fucking game. Are you coming or do you need more time to flirt?”

“I’m coming, ya cunt!” he yells, before turning his gaze back to you. “Talk more later, yeah?” You nod. “Great!” 

While Chan and his friends play pool, you continue to watch him. As Chan lines up his cue, muscles flexing beneath his tight black t-shirt, you lean against the back of the stool and take a sip of your beer, your eyes focused on him as he shoots. He notices you watching and grins when you don’t avert your gaze. The game continues, but your eyes keep drifting back to him, each time meeting his gaze. A small smile creeps across your lips as you both share a moment of silent understanding before he takes his next shot.

"He's trouble, that one," a voice says beside you. You turn to see the bartender leaning against her forearms on the bar, her smile knowing. "Chan Christopher Bahng, breaking hearts across the Outback."

"You know him well?" you ask, trying to keep your tone casual.

She laughs. "Everyone knows Chan. I'm Lia, by the way.” You introduce yourself and shake her hand. “He and I go way back. We’ve been friends since the first day of Kinder."

“What's his deal?” you ask, intrigued. 

“His deal?” Lia repeats, raising an eyebrow. “Chan’s a good bloke, don’t get me wrong. But when it comes to women…. He’s a notorious flirt. He manages to have a fling with every new woman who moves to town and every tourist who passes through the ranch. He can’t help himself.”

You take another sip of your beer, contemplating her words. So, he’s a smooth-talking player, you think to yourself. I can work with that. But men that looked and acted like him often had small dicks or were bad in bed. You were willing to find out though.

“And despite him always telling them he’s not interested in anything serious or something more, they always fall for him…then have their hearts broken.”

“You too?” You hope she doesn’t think you’re being forward or nosy. 

“Eew, gross.” She makes a face like she’s dry heaving and that causes you to laugh. “Fuck no! He’s like my brother. Where you ladies see hot guy, I see a dirt eating, hair pulling, crybaby.”

“Heh! Sorry, I was just curious.”

“No worries. Can I get you another? Or something more expensive since Channie’s paying?” She wiggles her eyebrows and chuckles.

“Oh Lia, you and I will be great friends,” you say with a laugh. “I’ll just do another beer.”

As you watch Chan flirt and charm, you can't help but imagine his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The wanting is a physical ache, a pull low in your belly. 

Later, alone in your bed, you let your hands wander, tracing your fingers over your body. You imagine Chan above you, his eyes dark with desire. You feel his hands exploring every inch of you, his touch feather-light, and the heat of his breath against your ear as you sink your fingers into your core. As you pump your digits in and out, and alternate with rubbing your clit, you can’t help but to moan. When you cum, his name is a whisper on your lips. 

In the stillness after, you stare at the shadows on the ceiling. You know this is dangerous territory. You came here to escape complications, not to create new ones. But as sleep claims you, it's his face you see, that roguish grin inviting you to take a chance.

***

Your second week is going much better. You’ve learned a lot and are already showing signs of improvement. And the tasks you initially found annoying and tedious are now calming and meditative.

The sound of footsteps echoes through the stables, jolting you from your thoughts. You've been cleaning tack for the better part of an hour, the monotonous task giving your mind ample time to wander—to him. 

"Working hard or hardly working?" His voice is a lazy drawl, sending a shiver down your spine.

You turn to find Chan leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, that ever-present smirk playing on his lips. "Some of us take our jobs seriously," you retort, but there's no real bite to your words.

He saunters closer, invading your space. The air feels electric, charged with the tension that's been building between the two of you. "And some of us know how to have a little fun."

You roll your eyes, feigning nonchalance even as your heart races. "Is that what you call it? Fun?"

His hand reaches out, brushing a straw of grass from your shoulder. His touch lingers, trailing across your shoulder and down your arm. "You telling me you don't want to have fun with me, city girl?” His eyes lock on yours for a second before he leans down to whisper in your ear. “How long are you gonna play hard to get?" He pulls back to resume looking at you.

Your breath hitches. This close, you can see the faint scar above his brow. You can smell the scent of him—leather, vanilla, and sweat. 

"I'm not looking for complications," you manage, your voice shakier than you'd like.

His grin widens. "Who said anything about complications? I'm a simple man, sweetheart. I see something I want, I ask for it. I see something I like, I go for it."

And there it is, laid bare. The offer, the temptation. No pretenses, no promises. Just raw, unbridled desire.

Your eyes drop to his mouth. Those full, sensual lips that have starred in countless of your late-night fantasies. "And what is it you like? What is it that you want?" Your gaze flits back up to his eyes. You can be just as direct when you want to.

He leans in again, his breath hot against your ear. "I think you know."

Something snaps inside you, the last of your reservations crumbling. You surge forward, capturing his mouth with yours. He responds instantly, his lips fierce and demanding. It's a clash of teeth and tongues, a kiss that's more battle than caress.

His hands grip your waist, lifting you onto the workbench. Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer. You can feel him, hard and insistent, pressing against you. The two of you make out furiously while Chan rubs his contained, hard cock against your crotch. 

When he brings his hand to your belt buckle, you hesitate. "Wait," you gasp, breaking away. "Not here."

His eyes are dark, pupils blown with lust. "Then where?"

You shoot him a coy smile. "Tonight, after dinner. My cabin." He brings his lips back to yours and kisses you slowly, deeply for another minute.

“Tonight. After dinner. Your cabin,” he repeats, each phrase punctuated with a kiss. 

Later that evening, in the privacy of your cabin, you discover just how talented Chan's hands and mouth can be. He plays your body like an instrument, coaxing out symphonies of pleasure. His mouth moves from your lips down your neck. He leaves no part of you untouched - hot breath against sweaty skin, teeth and tongue tracing every curve along your collarbone, then moving to your breasts. He sucks a nipple into his mouth, tugging, biting, teasing, before lavishing the same attention on the other breast. His lips continue their journey across your body, stopping briefly to kiss your belly button, then landing between your legs. 

He spreads your legs wide and buries his face between them, inhaling your scent deeply. His stubble scratches against your thighs as he teases you with gentle licks and nips. His tongue finds your clit and sucks gently, sending shocks outward. Then he slips several fingers inside you. You arch your back, moaning softly. "Chan...", you whisper, amazed at how good this feels. Your hips buckle up to match his movements, desperate for more. His fingers delve deeper, finding your G-spot and dragging against it rhythmically. You keep reaching down to tug at his hair, telling him how good he is without words. He groans against your clit, a mix of satisfaction and desire. The resulting vibrations teasing you more. You lose track of time, caught in the haze of pleasure. You're on the brink of coming but you want this to last forever. As you push him away, he looks up at you and grins. 

“Come here,” you whisper, and he is all too happy to oblige. He slowly climbs up your body and captures your lips, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue.

He positions his dick at your entrance, inserting just the tip before pausing. “Tell me you want it,” he demands, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“I want it,” you reply, staring into his eyes, 

When he finally sinks his hard cock into you, it's with a completeness that steals your breath. He’s huge; the girth fills you up and stretches you out, making you ache for more. His hips push into yours, rocking you against his shaft.

“Oh god,” you moan as his thick length slides in and out of you, grazing against your sweet spot with precision on each pass. You lose yourself in his intoxicating rhythm, in the slick slide of skin on skin. His touch is everywhere—bruising, worshiping, consuming. His mouth claims yours, adoration and lust mingling in the messiest of kisses. 

Your hands explore his broad shoulders as he positions himself deeper within you, pumping in and out of your wet heat. You dig your nails into his shoulders, leaving marks that will likely fade but that you hope will remain a reminder of this moment between the two of you for days to come.

Your climax is again building quickly, the waves of heat starting to pulsate outwards from your pussy. He murmurs dirty things in your ear that only serve to heighten the sensations. It simultaneously pulls you back to reality and causes you to lose yourself all in one breathless moment. 

"Almost there," he growls against your neck before biting lightly. You aren’t sure if it is a statement or a question. Your sharp intake of breath only fuels him, driving him harder into you as he pulls out to slam back in with a force that makes stars explode behind your eyes.

And when you shatter, it's with his name on your lips, coupled with praise and expletives escaping in a burst of raw pleasure. You come hard against him, writhing underneath him as a guttural sound escapes from somewhere deep within your soul—a mix between pain and ecstasy and pure bliss—the kind that only comes from being truly fucked well. And if you’re being honest with yourself, you can’t even remember the last time you got fucked, much less the last time you were fucked like this. Fucked into the stratosphere.

He groans loudly, too, at feeling how wet you are when your walls compress around him, thrusting himself faster within you as cum explodes from his tip into the condom. He buries himself inside with one last hard thrust before collapsing beside you. 

In the afterglow, as you lie tangled in sweat-dampened sheets, Chan trails idle fingers along your spine. "Not bad for a city girl," he teases.

You swat at him playfully. "You're not so bad yourself, cowboy." You were impressed and he’d already proved you wrong. Big dick and good in bed. What more could a girl want?

He grins, that boyish, carefree grin that first drew you in. "Oh, sweetheart, you ain't seen nothing yet."

And as he rolls you beneath him, his mouth hot on your neck, you know he's right. This is just the beginning. The start of something reckless and wild and utterly intoxicating.

In the days that follow, you find yourself in Chan's bed more often than your own. Stolen moments between chores, frenzied couplings in the hush of night. Each touch, each kiss, is a brand, a claim. 

He takes you apart with expert hands, learning your body, your desires, the right combination of buttons to push. He whispers filthy promises in your ear, telling you all the wicked things he plans to do. And he makes good on every single one. He also always makes sure you cum every single time.

It's a haze of lust and sweat and pleasure so intense it borders on pain. You've never been so thoroughly ravaged, so completely consumed. Chan is insatiable, and you match him, hunger for hunger.

But it's more than just the sex. It's the way he makes you laugh, the easy banter that flows between you. It's the unexpected moments of tenderness—a brush of his hand, a soft look when he thinks you're not watching.

You remind yourself that this is temporary. That you're both just in it for fun. But in the quiet moments, when he's draped around you, one hand playing in your hair, the other hand tracing shapes into your hip, his heartbeat steady against your back, you can almost let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is something real, something lasting.

You know it's foolish. Chan is a wildfire, burning bright and hot. And you? You're just the kindling, destined to be consumed. But as he pulls you closer, his lips finding yours in the dark, you can't bring yourself to care. For now, in this moment, you let yourself burn. Let yourself drown in his flames.

The days blur together in a haze of stolen glances, teasing touches, and searing encounters that leave you aching for more. Chan is an addiction, one you can't seem to shake. Every time you tell yourself to pull back, to remember that this is just a fling, he's there with that cocky grin, those bulging muscles, and those skilled hands, drawing you back in.

"You're thinking too hard again," he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear as he comes up behind you in the stables. "I can practically hear the gears turning."

You lean back into him, savoring the solid warmth of his chest. "Maybe I like thinking."

He chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "I can think of much better things for you to be doing."

His hands skim your sides, teasing, promising. His mouth sucks on your neck. You bite your lip, desire warring with doubt. "Chan..."

"Shh." He turns you to face him, his eyes dark with want. "Stop overthinking. Just feel."

And then he's kissing you, deep and demanding, stealing the breath from your lungs. You cling to him, lost in the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours. Nothing exists but this, but him.

It's Lia who finally pulls you back to reality. Over drinks at the local bar, she fixes you with a knowing look. "You're falling for him."

You startle, nearly choking on your beer. "What? No. It's not like that. We're just having fun."

She arches a brow. "Honey, I've seen this story play out a hundred times. Girl comes to ranch, falls for Chan's charm, thinks she can change him. It never ends well."

Your cheeks burn, shame and indignation blooming in your chest. "I'm not trying to change him.” And you weren’t. Chan had been very clear about what this was and what it wasn’t. You had also agreed to not make it a thing. “I know what this is. It’s short-term fun. In less than 10 days, I’ll be back on the other side of the world, back to my life, and Chan will be a distant memory. A lovely memory, but a memory all the same. There will be no declarations of love or pleas for change." It sounded convincing. You just hoped you actually believed it yourself.

Lia's expression softens. "I hope so. Chan's a good guy, but he's not the settling down type. I'd hate to see you get hurt. I kinda like you."

“I appreciate that. But you don’t need to worry.” You smile at her before taking another sip of beer.

Her words echo in your head over the next few days. You try to distance yourself, to rebuild the walls Chan so easily tore down, in an attempt to maintain the casualness of your relationship. But he's always there, drawing you in with a look, a touch, a filthy whisper in the dark.

It comes to a head one evening. You're in the stables, brushing down your favorite horse, when you hear a familiar giggle. Your heart clenches as you peer around the corner to see Chan leaning close to one of the new ranch hands, his grin wide and flirtatious. You recognize that look, that pose, that tone.

Jealousy claws at your throat, bitter and choking. You know you have no right, no claim on him. But the sight still stings, a harsh reminder of what you are. What you aren't.

You avoid Chan for the rest of the day, throwing yourself into your work, and using the time to remember and recommit to the original purpose of your entanglements with him. But he finds you that night, concern etched on his handsome face.

"Hey, have I done something wrong?" he asks, reaching for you.

You step back, crossing your arms over your chest. "No. I just... I thought you might want some space. To spend time with... other people. I feel like I’ve been monopolizing your time." You uncross your arms, hoping to seem less closed off.

Understanding dawns in his eyes. "Is this about Jess? We were just talking."

"I know." You swallow hard, hating the quaver in your voice. "I just don't want to crowd you, or cramp your style."

Chan frowns, stepping closer. "Is that what you think? That I'm tired of you?"

You shrug, looking away. "I wouldn't blame you if you were. I'm sure you want some variety."

Strong fingers grip your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I want you." His voice is low, intense. "I'm having the time of my life with you. I'm not ready for this to end."

Butterflies flutter in your chest. "You're not?"

"Hell no." He grins, that familiar cocky tilt of his lips. "I mean to have you every way I can, as many times as I can, before you go back to your real life and forget all about little old me."

"I could never forget you," you whisper, the truth of it aching in your bones.

His eyes soften, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Then let me give you some more memories to take with you."

He kisses you then, deep and slow, his hands sliding under your shirt. You melt into him, into the heat of his touch, the promise of his words. For tonight, for the next week, he's yours. 

And you plan to make every second count.

The days of your final week blur together in a haze of passion and pleasure, stolen moments and heated glances. You work side by side during the day, the sun beating down on your skin, sweat dripping down your spine. But every brush of Chan's hand against yours, every smoldering look, promises a replay of the previous night's ecstasy.

And oh, how he delivers on that promise.

Each night, he takes you to new heights, exploring your body with a dedication that borders on worship. He learns every curve, every sensitive spot, playing you like a finely tuned instrument until you're singing his name in breathless gasps and pleas.

But it's not just physical. In the quiet moments after, when you're tangled together, spent and sated, he makes you laugh with his wild stories and shameless flirting. He listens intently as you share your own tales, offering bits of wisdom wrapped in his signature cheekiness.

You try to memorize every detail - the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the rumble of his laugh against your ear, the shape of his dimples, the feel of his calloused hands on your skin. You etch them into your brain, a bittersweet collection to carry back to the life you left behind.

And then, suddenly, your last night is upon you.

There's a heaviness in the air as you walk into Chan's cottage, a sense of finality that weighs on your chest. He feels it too, you can see it in the set of his shoulders, the flicker of something raw in his eyes.

"So this is it, huh?" His voice is light, but there's an undercurrent of emotion he can't quite hide.

"I guess so." You aim for a smile, but it wobbles at the edges. "Time for me to turn back into a pumpkin."

"Nah," he steps into you, hands settling on your hips. "You're a goddess, remember? Whether you're here or in New York."

Your heart clenches, affection and sorrow twisting together. You'll miss this, miss him, more than you ever expected. But you know this is how it has to be.

You wind your arms around his neck, fingers threading into his hair. "Then take me to bed. Give me something to remember you by."

His grin is slow, wicked, sending heat spiraling through your veins. "Oh, baby. When I'm done with you, you won't be able to think of anything else."

And then he's kissing you, deep and desperate, like he wants to crawl inside you and never leave. You answer in kind, pouring every ounce of passion, every unspoken feeling, into the press of your lips, the slide of your tongue.

Clothes hit the floor in a flurry of impatient hands, the need to feel skin on skin overwhelming in its intensity. He walks you back to the bed, lays you down like you're something precious, something to be cherished.

And then he sets about making good on his promise.

He worships every inch of you with hands and lips and tongue, bringing you to the brink again and again only to pull back, to tease, to prolong the sweet agony of your desire. He whispers filthy praise into your skin, telling you how good you feel, how perfect you are, how he's going to make this a night you'll never forget.

When he finally sinks into you, it's with a groan that sounds like it's been punched out of him, raw and harsh and so unbearably sexy. He starts to move, deep, rolling thrusts that light you up from the inside, sparking along your nerve endings like wildfire.

You match him stroke for stroke, hips rising to meet his, nails raking down his back. He hisses as you scrape his skin. You're lost in him, in the motion of your bodies, the mingled sounds of your gasps and moans, the searing heat building in your core.

It's both too much and not enough, this feeling, this moment. You want to stay here forever, suspended in this blissful torment, this excruciating ecstasy. But you can feel your orgasm approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter, demanding release.

"Chan..." It's a plea, a prayer, a benediction. 

He knows, he always knows. "I've got you," he rasps, his rhythm increasing, driving into you with a force that steals your breath. "Let go. Cum for me."

And you do, his name a broken cry on your lips as rapture crashes over you, through you, exploding in dazzling bursts of light behind your eyelids. He follows a heartbeat later, your name a reverent groan as he spills himself inside the condom, his face a mask of exquisite agony.

You cling to each other as you both come down, sweat-slicked and trembling, exchanging soft, sipping kisses that slowly bank the fire still smoldering in your veins. There's an ache in your chest, a looming sense of loss, but you push it away. This isn't the time for sorrow.

This is a time for gratitude, for celebration. For the joy and freedom and unbridled passion you found in his arms, in this wild Outback that now feels more like home than any place you've ever known.

You fall asleep wrapped around each other, your head on his chest, his heartbeat a steady drum beneath your ear. In the morning, you'll untangle your limbs, share a final, lingering kiss. You'll drive away with a smile on your face and an unfamiliar lightness in your soul, ready to face whatever comes next.

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, in this perfect, shining moment, there is only Chan, and the blissful afterglow of being thoroughly, wonderfully, unforgettably fucked.

You wake a few hours later, surprised to see it’s still dark out. As you slowly open your eyes, the warmth of Chan’s body next to you envelops you. His peaceful expression makes your heart flutter. His thick, full lips call to you and you kiss them gently, causing him to stir awake.

“Mmmm,” he murmurs. “What a nice way to wake up.” He pulls you on top of him and deepens the kiss, his growing erection pressing against your folds. Your own body responds, as you involuntarily begin to grind your crotch against him resulting in him quickly growing harder beneath you. “Shit,” he whispers as his cock springs to attention. “The things you do to me….”

“Well, I’m about to do it one last time.” You take his bottom lip in between your teeth and pull gently before letting go and kissing it. 

Without a word, he reaches over to the nightstand to pull a condom from the decorative glass jar he uses to hold them.

But you quickly grab his arm, shaking your head in protest. "No," you say softly but firmly.

“No?” His eyes narrow to slits as he examines your face.

“No.” You move your hand to his cock, gently massaging it with slow strokes up and down. You make sure to run your palm over the tip each time you reach the top, eliciting soft moans from him. “I want to feel all of you against my walls,” you whisper, biting your lip seductively. Your crotch has not slowed its delicious grind against the base of his shaft. “If that’s okay.”

He can’t contain the wide grin that spreads across his face, his excitement evident at the prospect of fucking you raw. “Is that so?” he asks amused, the pronunciation of the last word heavy with his Australian drawl. You nod. He chuckles before continuing in a soft voice. “Whatever you want, love.” 

You lift your hips to position yourself over his cock before slowly sliding yourself down, allowing your head to roll back as you revel in each inch and savor every sensation as you take him all the way in.

Your body moves with a fluid grace as you ride Chan's length, the muscles of your thighs clenching and releasing in perfect rhythm with your hips. His hands find their way to your waist, gripping it tightly as he watches you. You bring your hands to his chest, stabilizing yourself on top of him. 

The bed springs creak in harmony with your movements as you continue to grind against him, feeling his cock hit every spot that needs hitting. You bite your bottom lip, trying to hold back a moan at the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body.

As you pick up speed, Chan's grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he helps to guide your hips back and forth as he thrusts upwards. Each thrust makes you feel both vulnerable and powerful at once. You look down at him, taking in the sheer desire etched on his face, and it ignites a fire within you. You quicken your pace even more, loving the way his eyes roll back into his head with pleasure.

You lean down, capturing his mouth in a hungry kiss that leaves you both panting for air. You break the kiss and let out a low growl, nipping at his jawline before looking at him again. "You like that?" you ask breathlessly.

His response is a groan mixed with another moan as he nods, his eyes still closed tightly. "God yes."

Encouraged by his response, you speed up once more, your movements becoming more frenzied as you grind against Chan with renewed intensity while you chase your final release. 

"Fuck, you feel so good," Chan groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. “Why do you feel so good?”

You lean down, pressing your chest against his as you kiss him deeply. The change in angle causes him to hit even deeper inside you, making you gasp against his lips. Chan takes advantage, his tongue sliding against yours as he thrusts up to meet your movements.

You can feel yourself getting close, that familiar tension building. Chan seems to sense it too. One of his hands slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. He rubs tight circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves, and it's like a match to gasoline.

Suddenly, your body goes taut, and your inner walls clench rhythmically around Chan’s cock as you cry out, “Ahhhh!” The sight, sound, and feel of you coming undone pushes Chan over the edge. He groans your name. 

You rest your forehead against his as the two of you try to catch your breaths. You feel the sticky mess start to slide out of you. You don’t mind though, instead feeling a sense of contentment. Apparently neither does he; he is just as lost in the moment, his eyes closed and lips parted, as you breathe in each other’s air. Neither of you feel compelled to move and separate from each other to clean up the evidence of what was surely a poor decision on both of your parts. Absolutely fucking reckless; you both know better. Yet, in this moment, it doesn’t matter. The need for more was undeniable, and rational thinking be damned. 

The bad decisions always feel so right, don’t they.

He breaks the silence first. “That’s certainly one way to say goodbye,” he says with a grin against your lips. 

You chuckle and press a kiss on them. “Didn’t I tell you I could ride?” you whisper. 

His laughter rings out in the room as he wraps his arms tightly around you. 

***

The sun is high and hot as Chan loads your bags into the rental car, the red dirt of the Outback stretching out behind him. There's a bittersweet tinge to the air, a sense of an ending, but also of a new beginning.

You lean against the car, watching him, trying to memorize the lines of his face, the play of muscles under his bronzed skin. He catches you looking and flashes that familiar, cocky grin.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," he teases, closing the trunk with a decisive thud.

"Don't tempt me," you shoot back. "I might just wallpaper my apartment with them."

He laughs, sauntering over to you. "I'll send you some nudes to add to the collection."

"You do that." The banter is easy, familiar; it soothes the ache of leaving. "Just don't be surprised if they end up on a billboard in Times Square."

"Mate, I'd be proud." He settles his hands on your hips, his touch igniting sparks under your skin despite the layers between you. "I'll show those city boys what they're missing."

Your chuckle is a little wobbly, emotion welling up in your throat. "I'm going to miss you," you confess softly. "Miss this."

His eyes gentle, one hand coming up to cup your cheek. "Me too," he murmurs. "More than you know." He stares deeply into your eyes. “Think you might ever return? Cause I certainly wouldn’t mind if you did,” he says softly.

You turn your head to press a kiss to his palm. “If I did, I’d need luxury accommodations next time.” You say, only half-joking. “I don’t know that I could rough it again!” You grin.

He snorts. “Ha! I thought you handled it well enough, city girl. Five-star accommodations can be arranged, if necessary.”

“That would be much appreciated. And if you’re ever in Manhattan, you should give me a ring.”

"Tempting." His thumb strokes your cheekbone, his gaze turning thoughtful. “New York City might be a bit too posh for a bushman like me. But if I ever make it there, you’ll be my first call." 

"I'll hold you to that," you whisper. 

Silence stretches between the two of you as you stare into his eyes. And then he’s kissing you, soft and sweet and full of unspoken emotion.

It ends too soon, as all good things must. 

He leans in, rests his forehead against yours. "This doesn't have to be the end, if we don't want it to be," he whispers. 

You pull away from him and raise an eyebrow. “Oh wooooow,” you say in a singsong voice. “Did someone catch feelings?”

A blush starts at his neck and travels up his face to his ears as he runs his fingers through his hair. He smirks and responds, “Maybe just a little.” He leans in and lowers his voice. “But don’t tell anyone; it could ruin my rep.”

You laugh and push him away playfully. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

Before you know it, you're behind the wheel, the engine humming beneath you. Chan leans in the window, his smile soft around the edges.

"Drive safe," he says quietly. "And don't forget about me when you're back in your fancy office, bossing people around."

You swallow hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "Never," you vow. 

And then you're pulling away, the ranch and the man getting smaller in your rearview mirror. You watch until you can't see him anymore, until the Outback swallows him up like a mirage; there one moment and gone the next.

But he's not gone, not really. He's there in the ache of your muscles, the bruises on your ass, the bite marks on your neck, the delicious soreness between your thighs. He's seared into your skin, imprinted on your soul. 

The drive to the airport passes in a haze of memories, snapshots of stolen moments and heated encounters flashing through your mind. The curve of his smile, the roughness of his hands, the way he made you feel alive, desired, free. It was a fantasy come to life, and now it's time to return to reality.

Check-in and security are a blur, and then you're settling into your first-class seat, the plush leather cradling your weary body. As the plane lifts off, you gaze out the window, watching the harsh, beautiful landscape fall away below you.

Despite the melancholy tugging at your heart, you feel lighter somehow, unburdened. The weight of expectation, of obligation, seems to have disappeared somewhere in the red dirt and endless skies of the Outback.

You came looking for escape, for distraction, and you found so much more. Freedom. Passion. A piece of yourself you hadn't even realized was missing.

And Chan... The thought of him brings a small, secret smile to your lips. He'd been everything you needed and nothing you expected. A friend, a lover, a safe place to land. Not a forever thing, but a perfect interlude.

As the plane carries you back to your life, to the bustle and pressure of the city, you close your eyes and let yourself drift, savoring the last vestiges of this stolen time.

You don't know what the future holds, if your paths will ever cross again. But you know you'll carry a piece of him, of this wild, perfect dreamtime, with you always. A reminder of who you are, of who you can be, when you strip away the masks and expectations.

After all, you muse, smiling to yourself as the clouds engulf you, that's the beauty of a fling. It's fleeting, but it's forever a bright flash of light against the darkness, a memory to hold onto when the real world intrudes.

And as for Chan... well, the Outback will always be there, waiting, if you ever need to find yourself again. And maybe, just maybe, so will he.

With that thought, you chug the rest of your champagne, then let yourself sink into sleep, dreaming of red dirt and strong hands, of laughter and passion beneath a sea of stars, as the miles unspool behind you, carrying you forward, carrying you home.

[imyourbratzdoll]

pls pls write Luke Danes smut with a petite reader. size difference and stomach bulge pls. also praising if you want to

hi, wow it feels like I haven't written anything in forever and I hope I brought your request to life!

summary - growing up small came with some disadvantages but not when it came to having luke in your life.

warning - smut, swearing, creampie, dirty talk, praising, stomach bulge.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by the user on my other stories who I think sadly deactivated.

You were tiny compared to everyone else, you had been since high school where you would always be constantly teased. The one highlight though was having a somewhat protector, a boy older than you by the name of Luke Danes would always stand up for you and fight those who’d make you cry. The sad part was catching feelings for him and knowing he’d never return them. 

So, a few years later. All grown up (but still ridiculously small), you head towards the diner. The only way to start your day was with one of Luke’s coffees, you just didn’t know how different the day would end. The little bell went off, signalling that you had entered, causing Luke to look in your direction. His eyes brush over you before turning back to a customer, until his head whips around and he glares at your shirt. You give him a soft smile before practically skipping over to one of the free stools, pouting slightly as it feels as though you must climb it just to sit on it.

After Luke is done with the customer, he storms over and behind the counter before leaning over, his face nearly touching yours as he growls and glares. “What do you think you’re doing walking out in public wearing a shirt like that?!” 

You frown, not understanding what he’s talking about until you look down and realise the shirt you had thrown on. There you sit, wearing a small denim skirt and a tight pink shirt that reads ‘I bet she bangs like a fairy on acid.’ You look back up at Luke and pout, “I didn’t mean to… This was the only clean shirt I could find, a–and…” You huff, wondering why you felt the need to explain yourself to him, you were a grown woman but the way he towered over you caused all your brain cells to fly out the window. Your arms cross over your chest, “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You aren’t my father!” 

Luke rolls his eyes before walking around the counter and practically lifting you from your seat, his beefy tanned arms bulging slightly as he carries you past the curtain and up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I’m not your father, but I’m sure as hell not going to let you walk around dressed like a slut.” You gape at him, wondering why you could feel yourself clench around nothing, tingles set aflame on your puffy clit. He places you down gently after you both enter his place, before walking over to his closet and pulling out one of his flannel shirts. “You are going to put this on, and I don’t want to hear a peep from you about it, understood?” His glare causes your thighs to squeeze together, and you know he’s noticed it. 

You squeak as you back into the door, Luke slowly making his way over to you. Each step, each thud his footsteps make cause your pussy to clench, slick gathering between your thighs. He looks like a predator, and you are his prey. “Are you seriously getting turned on by this?” You let out a whimper, lashes batting up at him as he towers over you again. His hand grips your jaw gently, making sure all your attention is on him and unknowingly causing your knees to buckle. “I knew you were a little slut ever since I stood up for you. You couldn’t hide the way you felt.” He leans closer. “You want to know how I know?” 

You whine, nodding and looking up at him with hooded eyes. “Because I walked in on you during the game, you thought everyone was too busy watching, but I had taken a short break. Imagine my surprise when I hear your soft little whimpers, and an even bigger one. You kept calling out my name, while you gripped one of my shirts and humped your pretty little hand.” You gasp when you feel him pressed himself against you, your eyes widening when you imagine how you are possibly supposed to take him. You squeal when you are suddenly lifted from the ground, flung like a ragdoll onto the bed, too dazed to notice him crawling on top of you. 

“Are you going to be a good little girl for me?” His bulge rubs against you while his hand moves up to grip your chin. You blink, his words sound as though they are underwater because all you can focus on is the tingles running throughout your body and how pretty his eyes look. You feel yourself clench as he slaps your cheek softly, repeating himself causing you to nod. A dumb look accompanying your face. 

Everything moves so fast, or it could’ve happened slow… You didn’t know, everything felt good and fuzzy. One second you had clothes on and the next you were completely naked in front of your crush, your mind was exploding. Luke groans, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the tip through your folds. “You’re so wet already, baby. You think you can take me?” You nod, need erupts throughout your body as your dream is finally coming true.

“P–please, Luke.” You whine, wiggling your hips as you try and press yourself closer to him. Your walls becoming slicker at the sheer size you feel against you. “I’ll be good!” Your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching off the bed as Luke slowly pushes in. Groans fall from his lips as he thrusts through your tight hole, your walls gripping him and pulling him deeper. 

“Holy fuck…” His eyes rest upon your stomach, noticing how your stomach bulges from how deep he is. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re such a good girl.” His hands grip your hips as he begins to thrust hard and fast, splitting you open and fucking you dumb. “My good girl. So good you’ll wobble back down to the diner with my cum dripping down your legs.” He growls, lying flat against you as his hips frantically move. 

“U–uhhh, mmm.” You try to speak but can’t. Your mind feels a thousand miles away and the only thing you can think about is how good Luke feels thrusting in and out of you. You can feel the veins on his cock throb with each movement, his thick tip pounding into your sweet spot. Your hands fly up and grip onto him, burying your face into his neck as you feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast. 

“You going to cum, little baby?” His thick voice rumbles throughout your body, sending shivers directly to your core causing you to clench around him. “Fuck. Be a good girl and cum for me.” Your eyes disappear as he fucks into you, causing your orgasm to rip out of you, covering him. Luke groans, his head rolling back as his cock throbs and twitches, balls tightening before he releases deep inside of you, thick ropes of cum covering your tiny walls until he softens. He moves slowly, making sure not to harm you as he pulls out and receives a cloth that he uses to clean you with. “You, okay?”

You hum, eyes slipping closed as your body tingles. Luke smiles as he watches you before lying next to you. Screw the diner, Caesar can take care of it for now. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[thirteenthdoor]

So you know the thing about Chinese women who change their hairstyles when they get married?

Spirealm spoilers nearly all the way to the end beneath the cut.

Ruan Lanzhu

As Baijie, he starts out with full bangs inside the Snow Village Door, a frumpy style he briefly keeps even outside of the door. It's fine when it's a bit scruffy and rakish, I guess? But it does his face no favors.

As soon as we get to Fitcher's Bird, though, he's started parting his bangs over his right eye -- not a full different hairstyle, just a little change to indicate his interest. This look, he keeps both in and out of the door through the Sister Drum and its immediate aftermath.

In that same episode that they leave the Sister Drum world, though, he switches to this severe style where most of his hair is brushed back, except for the weird little tuft over his left eye. This is the one of the two hairstyles he keeps for the rest of the show.

The other is the softer version of that same style, where he's got soft little bangs on both sides of his forehead, but still with a pretty big part between them. This one is mostly in and around the Psychiatric Hospital and the Lady in Rain doors, and then he's back to the more severe option.

So yeah, they get out of the Sister Drum door, Ling Jiushi and Ruan Lanzhu have a little conversation about how Ling Jiushi needs to recover, and by the time Ling Jiushi is recovered enough to come down and pet animals, Ruan Lanzhu has rolled out a whole new look! ...One that Ling Jiushi promptly does not notice. You know Lanzhu is about to explode. He needs his beloved to compliment him on his new style! But no, his beloved is too busy squeezing a corgi butt.

Ling Jiushi

Unlike Ruan Lanzhu, who falls pretty much immediately, Ling Jiushi hangs on to his initial hairstyle for a long time. Like, for 28 whole episodes, he maintains pretty much the same sweet little bangs-forward haircut he's had since his school days. Sometimes it's a little fluffier, sometimes it's more combed back, but it's the same hairstyle.

After the River God door, Li Dongyuan dies, Ling Jiushi goes through his whole backstory, he and Ruan Lanzhu protect Zhuang Rujiao, they visit Xiong Qi in the hospital again -- and in the very next scene, he's suddenly got his hair parted over his right eye. It's not not like Ruan Lanzhu's second hairstyle. He wears this style for the Sunny Doll door and everything that happens after with Tan Zaozao.

The very first scene after Zaozao's video, though, Ling Jiushi shows up with a significantly different hairstyle, one that he keeps for the rest of the show. He is again following Ruan Lanzhu's lead, parting his hair on his right side and exposing most of his forehead, with only a little flop down over his right eye. It looks way more casual than Ruan Lanzhu's version does, but the structure is similar.

...And in the book, the aftermath of her death is when those disaster boys finally hook up. I'd be willing to chalk this just one of those random costume change things, except that the timing is so specific it's hard to ignore. A change has happened in his young man's life, and he is ready to let the world both in and out of the doors know about it.

Anyway, they're married now. I don't make the rules; I'm not an NPC.

[yeoandmoon]

cowboy take me away ( mingi x reader )

as the child of a long forgotten freedom fighter, and a long time informant of kim hongjoong, you've been entangled in the bloody history & politics of strickland for as long as you could remember. when an invitation shows up at your door in the form of a familiar gunman, you find yourself grappling with the idea of gaining freedom & love in your harsh world or sticking in the comfort of your shadows.

smut + angst, ateezverse, outlaw!mingi & librarian!reader, afab reader, right person wrong lifetime, mentions of war & corruption, mingi is covered in blood, breeding kink, unprotected sex, dirty talk, fingering, thigh riding, wc is 4.7k

NOTE: takes place almost directly after the events of the bouncy music video ( a whole comeback and a half late, but i think it's what cowboy mingi would want )! this fic was written across 2 provinces, 1 state, 2 continents and 3 countries its a world traveller <3 title is from cowboy take me away by the chicks. if you like this please consider reblogging or leaving a comment / an ask :)

BANG! BANG! BANG!

You hear the banging before anything else. You’re quick to get up, nearly tossing your book to the floor in your haste.

The clock on the stove reads 21:37, and you know exactly who awaits you on the other side of the front door. The news reports of the bombings of The Prestige Academy had been live for nearly three hours, and it was only a matter of time before they came knocking.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Another bang rings out through your apartment, shaking the wooden door and the small ornaments that hung around it - good luck charms, your mother had once told you.

It was silly of you to keep them up. You knew it was silly to still believe the bedtime stories of a broken down revolutionary, and the childhood she wanted so badly for you.

Yet, here they remain - framing your door in an arch of wooden dolls, and nearly forgotten symbols.

Everything you’d witnessed with The Eight; all the history that could’ve been and should have been of your world laid out right in front of you by a scary little man and his little hourglass wasn’t enough for you to pull them down. You told yourself it’d be disrespecting your mother’s memory by doing that.

Hongjoong and his boys made you believe in the stories of your mother, and the world she wanted.

It’s while staring at the smallest doll in the arch that you take another deep breath, and finally steal a glance at the shadows that are casted under the door. You can see the person shuffle in place, almost nervously. 

You know who it is, and what they want from you.

You almost want to be upset by the uninvited visitor. You want to throw the door open, and scream at him; you want to tell him how he ruined your life. You want to tell him how you should’ve called the Guardians when you saw them walk into your library that day; how you regret letting them pull you into this world you watched tear your mother apart.

But - you’re not really upset. The thought of them makes your palms sweat, and your cheeks flush and you don’t want them to go. You want him to come inside and hold you; you want him to stay here, and despite your threats, you could never call the Guardians on him… on any of them. 

You look back up at the small doll that smiles down at you, and try not to let visions of soft pink hair and gummy smiles invade your mind. You try to forget the feeling of rough hands against your skin, and his lips kissing your tummy. You want to push those to the back of your mind, and simply ignore the cowboy on the other side of your door.

BANG!

A final resounding bang rings out, and you finally grip the door handle before ripping the door open.

As if summoned by your inner complaining & contemplation, there is a man in a cowboy hat on the other side of your door. His hat sits low over his face, and a rifle hangs at his side; you could just see the blood splattered on his leathers and his cheek.

You try not to stare at the way the tan vest hugs his toned torso; or how the deep red blood speckles his neck and chest. Your knuckles turn white as they tighten on the doorframe.

Your lips kiss along his neck, while your hands are tight against his hips. You pull him closer to you and revel in the soft whimpers that fall from his swollen lips. His hands are warm, but you know he runs hot and you soak in the warmth.

“Y/N.” His deep voice breaks through the silence, as if slashing a knife through your daydream.

You give him a brief nod, “Mingi.”

There’s a smile growing on the outlaw’s face, “Were you hoping I would leave if you ignored me enough?” Mingi asks, gently pushing you to the side as he steps into your apartment.

You sigh before closing the door behind him, making sure the locks and deadbolts are tight before turning to him. You don’t answer, but your mind continues to linger on his comment and just how wrong it truly is. 

The last thing you want is for him to leave - for him to leave you.

“Hongjoong called you.”

You nod, and your eyes flicker to the drawer where your small burner phone sits in the kitchen. There’s a coded voicemail from Kim Hongjoong in the inbox, and you had listened to it enough times that you could probably recite it for Mingi.

Hongjoong and his boys wanted you to join the revolution - officially. You had been content hiding in the background of it; feeding information to Hongjoong in cryptic messages & sneaky meetings, and then letting them take the credit, but Hongjoong wanted you at the forefront now.

There was a reason, of course. You knew why he wanted you, of all people.

“I’m not my mother, Mingi.” Your voice breaks as you finally look up at the man in front of you.

Mingi looks down at you. His short pink hair is messy under the cowboy hat, and his brows are furrowed in frustration. As you look back at him, all you can think of is the wanted posters plastered through the city center, and how you wish the artists could see the vision you see.

His voice is soft as he finally speaks, “You’ve gotten comfortable, Y/N.” Mingi moves the rifle from his shoulder and onto your kitchen counter, careful to place the barrel and silencer facing the wall.

“You’re comfortable surrounded by your books, and letting Hongjoong take all the credit for your work. You should’ve been there tonight.”

You lean back against the door, right under the arch of dolls as you contemplate Mingi’s words. He’s mirroring you - standing under the arch of your kitchen door, but your apartment is so small that you can just feel the warmth of his body against yours. A part of your mind thinks you’re imagining it, but you know if you were to reach your arm out, you could take the outlaw’s rough hand into your own.

You almost do, too. You begin to reach your hand out when Mingi moves to speak again, “She’d want you to be there, you know.”

His words slam into you like a ton of bricks. Your hand falls back against your side while Mingi’s statement immediately fills your eyes with tears, and the vision of the bloodied man in front of you begins to blur. You look down to hide your tears from him, but you still find yourself nodding in agreement. He’s right. He’s right, and it makes you so angry just how right he is.

“But I don’t want to be there,” You finally say, “It’s not the place for me. I’m not like her. I’m not like Joong. I want what they wanted… what they want, but I’m better off behind you.”

Mingi shuffles closer to you, and his hand moves to hold your wrist. You blink, and tears begin to fall down your cheeks when you feel his nimble fingers against your pulse point. His body gently pushes you back against the front door.

“Would it change anything if I told you: I want you to be there? I want you to be there, right next to us? Next to me?”

When you look up at him, you see his dark brown eyes have softened. His face is still shadowed by the cowboy hat, and you reach your free hand up to gently push the hat off, letting it hit the floor in a soft thud. The warm light of your apartment immediately illuminates Mingi’s harsh features, revealing a sad smile as he meets your teary eyes.

You push his hair out of his face before cupping his cheek, and you revel in the way he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

“I’ve watched this world tear people apart, Min. I don’t want to watch it break you too.” You tell him, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek, “I don’t want it to break me.”

You felt selfish as the words left your lips. Maybe you were being selfish, but you cared about him too much. You care about him enough that it’s dangerous - for both of you. You both knew your time together was limited and scarce, and soon all the work you’ve both done would finally culminate with Hongjoong’s plans.

Yet, here you stand - wrapped in a bloodied cowboy’s arms, half naked and crying, unsure if this will be the last time you see each other.

“I’m not going to break, Y/N.” His hand maneuvers from your wrist, and onto your bare thigh, just brushing under the hem of the night shirt you have on, “You wouldn’t, either. We wouldn’t let you.”

You stay silent, but you wrap your arms around Mingi’s neck and pull him into a tight hug. Mingi immediately reacts, with his own arms moving to wrap around you and his head falling into your neck. You can feel his lips ghost against your neck while one of your hands moves through his hair, almost holding him in place against you.

There’s things you could say; things you want to say to him (don’t die. come back. i love you.), but you don’t say any of that. Those are foolish thoughts for your situation, and dreams neither of you can afford right now.

Instead, you gently push him away so you can see him, both your hands coming up to cup his cheeks, “Does Joong know you’re here?”

Mingi shakes his head, and you notice his own tears beginning to fall down his face. You keep your eyes on him as you nod, while one of your thumbs gently runs over his bottom lip.

“We don’t have much time then?” Your voice is hardly a whisper.

Mingi kisses your thumb before taking your hand in his, entwining your fingers and kissing your palm, “We’re leaving at midnight.” He finally says.

It takes a moment of contemplation before you surge forward in Mingi’s hold, leaning up to capture his lips in a harsh kiss. His arm around your waist tightens its grip before he kisses back, and you feel his other hand drop your own before beginning to move into your hair.

You pull away after a moment, leaning back against the door as you settle in Mingi’s arms. You look up at him - taking in the way his cheeks have blushed, and his pupils are nearly blown out. Your eyes glance over the now-smudged blood on his cheek and neck, and you have to think he’s doing it on purpose. He’d come to you after doing Hongjoong’s dirty work before, bloody & wrecked and he’d always laugh when he saw how wet your panties had become after seeing him like that.

“Take the jacket off, Mingi.” Your voice cuts through the silence you two had created. 

There’s a small smile playing at your lips when Mingi jumps before nodding, unhooking his arm from around you to pull the heavy leather coat off. Your eyes follow it as he unceremoniously drops it on your foyer floor.

His hands move to his vest, and your eyes are quick to follow as he begins slowly unbuttoning the leather.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You narrow your eyes at him.

Mingi’s cheeky smile and the way his eyes glance up at you confirms all you need to know. You fake a gasp as one of your hands reaches out to grasp his, and you tug him back closer to you.

“You’re a tease,” you tell him as you kiss him again. 

He smiles into the kiss, while one of his hands moves to cradle your head and tilts you to gain easier access to your lips, “Am I?”

You begin to unbutton the remaining buttons on the vest, just as Mingi crowds you back against the door. He presses a kiss to your cheek, and you melt into the way he deepens the kiss while his thigh moves between your own, pressing up against your soaked core.

You groan at the feeling of his jeans against your clothed pussy, “Am I going to come here?”

Another cheeky smile flashes at you, “I am a tease, aren’t I?” He hums.

Mingi pushes you down against his thigh as he speaks, with his hands holding your hips. The drag of your clit along his thigh rendered you speechless and hot, and you let yourself fall back against the door in your bliss.

You’re standing on your toes as you rock against him when one of his arms hooks around your waist. 

“Go on, baby.” He leans down to kiss your temple, “Use me to make yourself feel good.”

His other hand tugs at the hem of your night shirt, slowly inching it up to reveal your body to him. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes you feel wanted and sticky, and you can’t help it when your hands move to grasp at the vest to steady yourself. Mingi’s free hand moves to your chest, his fingers gently begin thumbing at your nipple until it hardens. 

You let out a sharp gasp at the feeling, relishing in the way his touch fuels the warmth that grows within you - it’s a warmth that truly only burns for the Gunman, and part of you worries it might never burn for anyone else.

Your hands move into Mingi’s hair when he leans down to take your nipple in his mouth, and the whimpers that come from the man as you tug brings another wave of arousal that goes straight to your core (and the sticky mess that you’re sure are ruining your panties and Mingi’s jeans). You can feel the bulge in his tight jeans each time you rock your hips; it matches the hunger you saw in his eyes as he kissed up your neck, letting your shirt fall back down as one of his hands moved to cup your pussy.

You reach out to palm the bulge in his jeans, and a sleepy grin graces your lips when Mingi lets out a beautiful sound. He groans your name, his free hand gripping your wrist while you push against him.

He pulls your hand away, “Don’t worry ‘bout me,” He tuts.

“You sound pretty.”

Mingi’s thumb pressed into your clit in reply, and the action brought a near scream out of you. Your hips stutter against his hand, and you grip his vest tighter as you begin to lose your balance. Mingi’s hand around your waist moves to pick you up, using the imbalance as an excuse to pull you closer to him.

“Mingi…” Your voice is strained and full of neediness.

He hums into your skin, nipping at your collarbone, “I know, Y/N.”

His thumb presses circles into your clit, and your thighs shake as you wrap your legs around Mingi. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hips rock into his hand, urging him to move faster and harder.

You kiss him, messy and rough when he brushes his finger over your entrance, pushing you over the edge to your orgasm. You tremble against him, and he kisses away your cries and whimpers, holding you impossibly close in his arms.

Mingi’s thumb slows its movements as you ride out your climax. He presses a kiss to your hair, and you know he’s talking to you, but you can hardly hear him. You can hardly guess what he might even be saying against the quiet of your apartment and the blood rushing in your ears.

“We’re going to bed now, baby.” He whispers to you, kissing your cheek and finally moving away from under the arched doorway.

You laugh into his shoulder, “Are you going to fuck me?”

He doesn’t answer on the short walk to your bedroom, but you don’t need an answer. You know how tonight will go. You always know with Mingi.

Mingi softly drops you onto your bed, untangling your legs from around his waist before quickly beginning to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on him as you pull your soaked panties off, haphazardly kicking them to the floor while you watch Mingi undo his jeans, leaving them open as he turns his attention back to you.

He looks positively wrecked, and all he’s done is made you come. This causes an undeniable high to begin racing through your veins, and the high only grows when you feel Mingi’s fingers dancing along your inner thigh leading right up to your soaked core.

“‘Gonna open you up, baby,” Mingi grunts, while he gently pushes you back against the bed and shoves your legs open so he can comfortably kneel between them, “We gotta make sure I fit, yeah?”

You gasp at the combination of his words and the feeling of his thumb against your clit so soon, but when you glance up, he’s smiling down at you. Your fingers tightened in the sheets and you wanted to curse Mingi. You were so wet from your previous orgasm that you knew you could probably take him with minimal prep - it wasn’t anything you hadn’t done before.

But no; Mingi wanted to watch you writhe on the sheets as you took his fingers, nice and slow.

He gripped your thigh as he pushed two of his long fingers into you, and he chuckled when you threw your head back, a moan of his name escaping your lips.

“Min, please,” You bucked your hips up to meet the thrust of his fingers, “Just fuck me!”

Mingi kisses your knee in response, “We got some time,” He hums, but you could hear his voice waver as he adds another finger, and watches you grind yourself against them.

The short walk to your bedroom had hardly been enough time to recover from the orgasm you’d had against the door, and all you could do was soak up the increasing pleasure as you rode Mingi’s fingers. Although your bedroom was usually a quiet spot, it was soon overtaken by the sound of your soft cries and Mingi’s fingers thrusting into your weeping hole.

You let your head push back against the mattress as you whined in frustration and arousal. Your thighs were burning from Mingi holding them open to accommodate his large frame, and all you truly wanted to do was come on his cock.

Maybe you were made to ride his cock, a sneaky part of your arousal corrupted brain squeaked. Usually, you’d push those thoughts out of your mind but right now… You looked up at the man who sat over you. Mingi’s hair was a mess from you tugging on it earlier, with his vest hung open to expose his blood splattered chest and arms to you; leather string necklaces and chains hung from his neck, and it didn’t take long for you to pick out a pendant you had gifted him months earlier. His unbuttoned jeans stretched over his thick thighs, and hung low on his hips, exposing just enough skin that it made your mouth water.

Right now, you had no choice but to agree with the little voice that just maybe, you were made to ride Song Mingi’s cock.

You let out another whine at the revelation, bucking your hips into his hand as you reached for Mingi with a sweaty hand, “Min, I-I need you to fuck me now, please.”

Mingi takes your hand, using it as leverage to pull himself down and crush his lips into yours, “My baby needs my cock?”

His palm grinds against your clit, and the pressure is enough to turn any answer you might have for him into a broken moan. You kiss him harder, squeezing Mingi’s hand tightly in yours as you push your hips up to gain any kind of friction against him.

You wouldn’t even put it past yourself to begin grinding on his thigh wedged between your legs again - like some kind of bitch in heat.

The coil in your lower half begins to burn again, timing itself with the harsh thrusts of Mingi’s fingers and the way he kisses you, hard & unforgiving. When you move out of the kiss to place soft kisses and bites along his jaw, a broken whine escapes Mingi and it nearly topples you hard over the edge.

You buck your hips hard into his hand and kiss his neck, “I’m g-going to come,” You tell Mingi, who swears before kissing your cheek.

Hardly a second flashes before you, then the hand between your thighs is ripped away, along with it is the pleasure that you so desperately crave.

“Mingi!” You whine, trying to reach for him as he pulls his hand from your cunt, dodging your grabby hands and begins to move off of your bed, already tearing the vest off his body.

“‘think you should be good now,” Mingi gives you a teasing smile, beginning to push his jeans and boxers the rest of the way down his thighs.

He keeps his gaze on you as he begins to crawl back onto the bed, and you can see the fire that’s present in his eyes. He moves to settle between your thighs, though you can’t help but let your vision wander down his body.

A gruff laugh comes from Mingi as you feel one of his warm hands rest on your thigh. His other hand reaches for you, gently resting on your cheek as he moves over you, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”

You want to laugh at his bluntness, but he kisses you so hard that you can hardly react. His hand moves from your thigh to sit heavy on your hip as he pushes into you, and all you can do is whimper into the kiss.

Despite the prep (and your inner insistence that you could take him unprepared), Mingi is big, and you could hardly remember the last time you felt so full. It’s a euphoric feeling as he thrusts into you, holding you down against your mattress and pushing any non Song Mingi related thoughts out of your mind.

Your hands move as if they have a mind of their own; one of them moves to tangle back in Mingi’s hair, and Mingi groans before pressing a kiss to your neck.

“Min, it feels so good.” The hand on your hip squeezes, pressing you harder into the mattress.

He smiles against your skin, and presses a kiss to your throat, “I’m not sure how long I’m going to last,” His voice is weak, and laced with wanton pleasure.

Mingi had been restraining himself all night - that much you knew. You had felt the change in his energy the moment he propped you up on his thigh in your living room, but he still took his time. He took his time teasing you, and drinking in everything you could give him, but you knew wanted more. Mingi wanted every last drop he could get from you, and you wanted him to have it.

You nod at his words, and try to pull Mingi closer to you. The incoming familiar waves of pleasure were already tugging at your strings, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before you would find yourself over the edge again.

You’d like to think it was the pleasure that spoke the next sentence that fell from your lips; or, maybe even the Mingi corrupted part of your brain, but you knew that you meant the following stuttered request with every ounce of your being.

“I wan’ you to come in me.”

Mingi’s hips stutter and he swears, “If I knock you up, you’d have to come with me.” He gives a hard thrust, as if proving a point, and seems to revel in the way it makes you gasp and clench around him, “Then, I might just knock you up again - for good measure.”

You can hardly contain the broken moan that falls from your lips, “Mingi… fuck, Joong would kill us.” You grip his arm, your nails digging into the flesh as he thrusts harder into your heat. You’d never admit (especially not to Hongjoong), but the idea Mingi proposed erupted a fire within you, and it burnt from head to toe.

A low growl escapes from his lips, as he presses another kiss into your sweaty skin, “Nah, Hongjoong would kill me. He could never hurt you, baby.”

He continues his kisses along your neck, and you feel the hand on your hip slowly move over your soft tummy before you feel his fingers graze over your clit again. He presses down on the sensitive nub as you mewl, pushing your hips up to meet his thrusts. The new angle presses his cock deeper into you, and you can feel the tendrils of euphoria begin to wrack through your body with every movement of Mingi’s hips and nimble fingers.

In that moment, you’re not sure how anyone will ever make you feel how Mingi does; how anyone will fuck you like this, or just simply look at you the way the tall gunman does.

Mingi’s hips stutter again as he gently nudges your cheek with his nose, “Y/N…”

You grip his arms harder; hard enough that you’re sure it’ll leave bruises for Hongjoong and the others to find in the morning, but for now you just nod, “Mingi, come in me.” You repeat the demand.

Mingi presses a kiss on your collarbone as he moans, a breath of your name leaving his lips before he comes. The feeling of his seed spilling into you, and the warm hands on your body is enough to set off your own undoing, pushing you hard over the cliff.

Stars take over your vision, and your back arches as you ride out your orgasm against Mingi, trying to pull him closer into your orbit. You vaguely feel his hand take yours, and you begin to slowly recover while he presses soft kisses against your wrist and palm. He’s sweaty above you, and you can see the flush that overtakes his cheeks while he comes down from his own climax.

“Do you have to leave now?” You manage to croak out, scared to look at the clock next to your bed.

Mingi glances at the clock, and a frown crosses his face - just for a moment. He shakes his head though, “No, not yet.”

His voice is soft, and you know he’s lying to you. He’s still holding your hand as he moves to lie next to you on your bed. The bed is small enough that he crowds you against the wall, but you two had done this enough times that you expect it; in fact, you almost welcome the crowding that comes from having Song Mingi in your bed.

You’d take anything to spend more time with him, but for now you settle with the soft kisses he’s placing on your hand.

“You know what to say if they come looking for us?”

You nod.

“I’m sorry,” Guilt racks his voice, and you’re not sure what he’s sorry for. Maybe he’s saying it for Hongjoong, who pulled you back into this, or maybe he’s sorry for leaving.

Maybe he’s sorry for loving you, when neither of you could afford to be loved.

You don’t want an answer though, and instead you pull him back into your orbit and settle for slotting your lips against his one last time.

—

When you wake alone in the morning, you can’t help but notice the small doll in the arch around your door is gone - only the blank wallpaper behind it remains.

As your hand moves to touch the mouth-shaped bruise on your throat, you somehow find comfort in the broken arch of charms.

[kuoukyeee]

Hello!! I like how you write. Could I ask you NSFW headcanons of saw paing with wife reader please

AAAHH THANK YOUUU

Also Saw Paing is best boy!!! I hope I did him justice, as its my first time writing about him🙏

This is also my first time writing nsfw, so feedback is GREATLY appreciated. Please pop me a message if you feel like something needs improvement!!!

Nsfw

Afab reader in mind, but not really specified

First of all, you need to have trust and a genuine bond with him, as he's not the type to sleep with strangers. He likes to feel a loving connection and believes that sex is something which brings people together. So you guys are most likely in a long term relationship or married.

The banging would happen in more private places, where nobody can see you two. At home, in a forest, in the fighters waiting room etc..

As to when it happend, it would probably be when he is excited e.g. after a match or an achievement. It would be very 'hard' to get a sad Saw Paing in the mood.

He's not very dominant, but most of the time you find yourself under him, as he gets excited and just jumps on you.

He's 50/50 when it comes to noise.

When you guys have sex under normal conditions hes loud and excited, shouting praises into your ear, telling you how good youre making him feel and how special you are to him. Holding you in his strong grip, and pounding into you at a swift pace. Albeit his thrusts are quite shallow, teasing your g spot, which makes you go crazy. When he cums he drastically picks up his pace, squeezing you even harder and passionately kissing you as he releases his load.

When he's more serious/frustrated hes actually very quiet, only slight continuous whimpers and groans in your ear. His pace is slow and his thrusts are deeper. He holds eye contact with you, his eyes missing that cheerful glow of his, instead his gaze is determined, almost burning holes into you. When he cums he will grind his hips into you, letting out a weak groan, his muscles spasm as he nuzzles his face into your neck.

He really wants to make you feel as good as possible. He's keeping his eyes and ears peeled and also makes sure to ask you during and after what to improve.

I don't think he's that hairy, but I do believe every once in a while he'd get it removed. He's a fighter after all.

His favourite positions are the ones where you guys are face to face, like missionary and lotus. To him it feels more intimate and loving.

Imo his dick is just slightly above average, but its quite thick. He's probs uncircumcised, and his tan tip flushes when hes hard.

He's decent at aftercare, though sometimes you have to remind him to do it.

He would pick you up and place you in bed, if you're not already on it, clean you up a bit and just cuddle and smooch you all over. Sometimes you guys have full conversations if one of you doesn't fall asleep. He really makes you feel loved and seen.